Category Archives: sadness

NoThanks – Day Twenty

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Today I’m thankful for…

I’m not exactly sure. Oh, there’s plenty I’m extremely grateful for. It’s not like I can’t think of anything. It’s just that I’m so hopping furious right now it’s hard to land on something good.

You see, I have this friend. In fact, I have these two friends. They’re a mother and a daughter and I’m very partial to them both. They are a mother and grandmother of a middle school girl who is not only one of the cutest, but one of the kindest, sweetest, coolest kids I know. And it’s no wonder when you consider her mom and grandmom.

This bright, funny, totally awesome chick is being bullied. Bullied by a couple of girls who can only hope to be half as wonderful as she is. By girls who post sexy, slutty pictures of themselves on Facebook. These are children!

I want to scream and punch something and, if I’m honest, I want to smack these girls hard across the face and shout, “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Do you really think this makes you cool? Do you honestly think it’s funny? Do you have any idea what kind of damage you could be causing?? Do you care that this type of behavior is what causes some kids to kill themselves? Do you understand that that would make you a murderer?”

But I don’t want to stop there. I want to smack the parents, too, and yell, “Do you really have no idea what your girls are doing? I know you’ve seen the pictures they’ve taken and posted on Facebook because you took some of them! Are you truly that stupid? And where did they learn such evil and hatred?”

My heart breaks for my friends and especially for this young girl that I adore. And as enraged as I am, my heart is a little bit sore for these selfish, broken bullies who somehow think this asinine behavior makes them cool. I have to believe their parents don’t know what these girls are doing and I just wonder how they will feel when they find out. And make no mistake, they will find out.

As a mother I would be absolutely devastated to learn that my child was treating another child this way. It would not go well for my offspring and they knew this from a very early age. I’ve always been a fairly laid back mom, but there are some things that are absolutely unacceptable, no exceptions, and I am very confident that my kids never had any doubt about this particular subject.

I guess if I’m going to find something to be thankful for in all of this it’s that our young friend has insinuated herself in so many hearts. She is surrounded by a family who loves her tremendously and a community of people who feel the same way about her, including several high school girls (which is kind of a big deal to middle school girls). And even though that love doesn’t insulate her from this ugliness, my prayer is that it will keep her focused on the truth. That she is NOT what a couple of stupid girls say she is. She is what the majority of us KNOW her to be. And that is a beautiful, smart, talented, funny and sweet girl made absolutely perfect by an absolutely perfect God.

Spoons and Forks Only

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I’m struggling a little bit with this phase of my life. For twenty years I’ve been a mom. That’s been my thing. And I’m a pretty good one, too. Not perfect. Not great. But pretty good. I mean, my kids have made it to 17 and 20 with a minimum of mental and/or emotional scarring so that must say something.

It is easily the best and most fulfilling thing I’ve ever done. But now, all of a sudden it seems, my services are no longer as necessary. Sure, I’ll always be their mom. That will never change. And sure, they’ll always need me to some extent. But they have their own lives now. Taylor just started his third year of college yesterday. And while he still technically lives at home, he was only here for a very short time this past summer because he was off being a young adult in another city. And I may be jumping the gun where Katie is concerned, but she gets so busy with school, work, church, singing, friends, etc., that she’s hardly ever home either. And in another year there’s no telling where she’ll be.

I’m glad for them. I’m proud of them. I want this for them. This independence. This making their own way in the big world. This cutting of the apron strings…

Okay. So the apron strings aren’t completely cut yet. But they are being sawed on with a table knife. Slowly but surely, each thread of the string is being severed and I’m helpless to stop it. And I don’t necessarily want to stop it. Except I really, really want to stop it. Just for a little while longer. I’d like to take away the knife and hand it back when I’m ready.

And nobody ever told me that the apron strings keep a mother’s heart afloat. With each thread that snaps I feel my heart sink just the teensiest bit. I suppose, though, that it’s the selfless love of a mother that keeps the heart from plummeting completely. The love that motivates my desire for my children to become the adults that God wants them to be. Even if that means that someday they will not just go to college far from home, but may actually live far from me.

I recently told them both that I demand they always live within three hours of me and have at least two, three would be better, but four would be preferable, children once they are married and settled. They both said okay, but I get the feeling they thought I was joshing. Maybe because I don’t have a great track record as a daughter where those demands are concerned. (FYI – my mother never placed that demand on me.)

A friend of mine had a very premature baby a couple of months ago and he was finally able to come home for the first time about a week or so ago. It was very questionable for a while as to whether or not he would even survive. Thankfully he did survive and is doing quite well now. This is her first child and she made a comment to me that I’ve heard several other women make about a child that they could have lost in infancy. She said (paraphrased greatly), “I think I love him even more than most new moms because I almost lost him.” Not to belittle the horror and then profound relief of her or any other mother’s similar situation, but I disagree. Didn’t we all feel like nobody could have ever loved their child as much as we love ours? A mother’s love is a fierce and unimpenetrable force. There is nothing to be done against it.

So why am I so surprised at how hard all this is on me? Between this and everything going with my dad I feel like there’s always a little bit of sadness just under the surface. I don’t like it. I don’t do sad well.

And here’s the funny thing. I didn’t even start out writing this post! I was going to talk about how I don’t have my kids to play with anymore so now I’m going to play with my friends this afternoon and go kayaking, but this is what came out. Which is why I’ve been so bad about blogging. It’s always a little maudlin so I delete it. I guess I’ll just leave it be – apparently I needed to get it out.

Hopefully I’ll have a much more Jensteresque post after my kayaking adventure with Tina this afternoon!

This Week in Review

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No, I have not received my new computer yet. No, I am not typing this on my phone. I’ve hijacked Katie’s computer until I get my new one next week. Shhh.

I have a full plate today, but thought I might throw a few words up on the page while I have a minute or two. Taylor came home for spring break last Saturday. It’s been an enjoyable visit. I even took Wednesday off just so I could hang out with him for a bit. It was a glorious day and he and I went on a walkabout on one of our local trails. It was a beautiful walk and we just chatted and chatted and before we realized it, we’d been walking nearly an hour. One way. Which meant we had to walk back that same distance. All said and done we were on the trail about an hour and a half and our round trip mileage was somewhere between 8 and 9 miles. THAT translated into 7 Weight Watchers activities points so I had pie that night! All around great day.

Yesterday he drove about 2 hours to Carlilse where he met up with his girlfriend, Shelby, and her grandmother. She lives in Pittsburg and is spending the rest of the break with us. Shelby. Not her grandmother. Todd and I spent an enjoyable morning with them, getting to know Shelby a little better and drinking coffee. Not in that order.

Today they’ve gone into Philadelphia and tomorrow they’ll head back down to Lynchburg. And then Sunday I’ll be wishing it was closer to Easter so we could go down there and see him again.

Speaking of Weight Watchers activities points and all that, I am continuing to go down. Slowly, but surely, and that will work for me. I even pulled a pair of pants out of the back of the closet this morning just to see if they might almost fit. Guess what! They fit!! Perfectly!! Except they’re too short. But I’m okay with that. With spring trying to spring I now have a new/old pair of crop jeans!

On a sad note, my mother’s brother, better known to me and my sisters as Uncle Del, passed away earlier this week. He lived in Fresno with my Aunt Thea and I remember how excited I would get when they would come visit us in Southern California or when we would go visit them. They have two sons so Uncle Del was a bit protective of me and my sisters. The first time he met Todd he told him he couldn’t date me until I was 30 and asked if he had a problem with that. Todd probably said, “No, Sir” (with no intention of not dating me – smart man) and then we spent the evening playing Hearts with Del, Thea and my parents. Much laughter ensued. Of course, Uncle Del kept up the no dating thing throughout.

Here’s a picture that his grandson, Brian, scanned and posted on my Facebook Wall. It was taken in 2004 on a family get together in Durango, Colorado, which was the last time I saw Uncle Del. It’s now one of my favorite pictures. The man with the beard is my dad and the other man is Uncle Del. Brothers-in-law for nearly 59 years and two of my most favorite men. Don’t they both just say “huggable”?

As sad as it is to lose someone you love, I’m thankful he is at peace and breathing easy now. I also know I’ll catch up with him some day. Maybe we’ll play a rousing game of Hearts for old time’s sake. I would take this a step further and say maybe Jesus would play, too, but I think he probably has an unfair advantage. You know, being the Christ and all.

I’ve Got Something To Say

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I hate rocking the boat. I just want everybody to get along. There are some people who thrive on arguing but I’m definitely not one of them. I like serene, not confrontational. But sometimes I just can’t keep my mouth shut. I try. Oh boy do I try. I slap both hands over my mouth and tightly squeeze my eyes shut and try to avert the bomb that’s getting ready to disengage.

This whole Susan G. Komen/Planned Parenthood debacle is one of those times. I’ve stayed quiet (mostly) but the myriad of comments I have read these last few days have distressed me to the point that I cannot remain silent any longer.

There has been so much vitriol spewed by both sides of the fight that the important stuff has gotten lost. If you are pro-choice you can’t begin to understand someone who is pro-life. If you are pro-life you can’t fathom why someone thinks that abortion is okay. And this has clouded everything.

These fiery feelings have lead to false statements and ridiculous accusations and a lot of hate. It all makes me tired and frustrated and sad that people who were at one time part of a common goal (breast cancer issues) are now divided and hurling hurtful and caustic abuse at each other.

Below are just some of the comments I’ve read from both sides of the debate that make me want to scream. I have countered with what I believe to be rational, factual responses with maybe a little bit of opinion thrown in here or there for good measure.

Let me make this clear. I AM NOT PROMOTING SUSAN G. KOMEN OR PLANNED PARENTHOOD.

This is despicable, and I’m going to silently curse every time I see one of those stupid pink ribbons. Whatever they may have meant in the past, they now stand for “Let ‘Em Die.”

Why? That’s one of the most ignorant statements I’ve heard. Pink ribbons do NOT represent Susan G. Komen. Pink ribbons represent breast cancer. Orange ribbons represent leukemia. Teal ribbons represent ovarian cancer. You get the idea.

I find this statement hurtful and terribly offensive. While it’s true that I have become weary of all the pink hype, the ribbon still means something to me and to my family. It serves as a reminder to women that they need to be aware and proactive; it serves to inspire hope in those newly diagnosed; it serves as a badge of honor for those who have fought the fight; it stands as a memorial for those we’ve lost – and we’ve lost too many. And to me personally it represents thankfulness that research has come as far as it has and gratitude to all the people who have made that possible with their financial support and the organizations who have advocated for that research.

If SGK will no longer give grants to PP then I will give my donations directly to PP.

You can give to whatever charity you want. That’s your business. But here are a few of my thoughts:

1. Donations to SGK are specifically related to breast cancer. The funds are then divided into six separate categories: administration, fundraising, research, education, treatment, and screening. When you give money to SGK you have no idea what your money specifically is going to, but you do know that it has something to do with breast cancer. By the same token, if you redirect your donations from SGK to PP you have no idea if it will be used for breast cancer screenings. My point here is, if you have been donating specifically for breast cancer something and you’re disenchanted with SGK then donate to a different breast cancer organization or a local facility.
2. PP is not the only organization who gives free breast cancer screenings. In fact there are probably better options simply for the fact that PP offers only breast exams and not further diagnostics such as mammogram and ultrasound. Which means if a woman has a breast exam at PP and something is found, she’s going to have to go somewhere else from there anyway. There are any number of programs for uninsured and underinsured women who offer both screening and diagnostic testing.
3. Just like it’s your right to give your money to whichever charity you want to, it’s an organizations right to give their grant money to whichever research or community health agency they want to.

I will not donate to SGK anymore because they now pay for abortions.
They don’t pay for abortions. They provide funding so a woman with no insurance and no money can get a possibly life saving breast exam. Unless there has been a misappropriation of funds (and I know all about the investigations), grant money is never used for abortions. There is nothing to actually suggest this has ever happened at PP.

That said, if you’re uncomfortable donating to SGK because there’s a chance your donation will help fund abortions, then by all means, donate somewhere else. But please don’t accuse SGK of funding abortions.

I thought SGK was in the business of saving women’s lives, yet they’re partnering with PP and abortions cause breast cancer.
Forget pink. This one makes me see red. There is no scientific evidence to support that claim. Here’s a link to the American Cancer Society which, unless you’re a conspiracy theorist, is in the business of cancer facts. FACTS. http://www.cancer.org/Cancer/BreastCancer/MoreInformation/is-abortion-linked-to-breast-cancer. It’s true there are studies out there which claim to show a link, but their stats are unreliable due to a whole host of reasons which are explained in the ACS link.

This is a real hot topic button for me because when my mother shared that I had been diagnosed with breast cancer with a long time family friend, the first thing she asked was if I had had an abortion. Understandably this floored my mom. When I learned about it I was enraged. First – because it’s the height of rude tackiness. Second – because abortion does NOT cause breast cancer.

If we could find a cure for polio, we can find a cure for cancer.
That is the hope, but to compare polio and cancer is like comparing apples and orangutans. Polio is one virus. One as in singular. Cancer is a mutation of cells and the reasons, causes, triggers, etc. are different for each type and subtype. Not to minimize polio, but it was one cure. Cancer is not that cut and dried.

There’s a cure for cancer. It’s just being kept secret by the pharmaceutical companies, government and organizations like SGK because cancer is such a big money maker.
Really?

SGK’s administrators take too much in compensation. All they care about is making money.
Well… It kind of seems that way to me, too. A friend of mine pointed this out to me, however:

Just an FYI – most directors of big charities get paid big bucks. When charities reach the size like Komen, they are incredibly difficult to administer, not to mention the compliance required to maintain its non-profit status. When you think about all the different tax jurisdictions where Komen has a presence, just making sure all the ‘i’s’ are dotted and ‘t’s crossed to prevent having the 501(c)(3) designation from being pulled is a huge job. The person in charge really needs to be a non-profit expert in compliance. This is highly specialized and demands high pay. Another thing to consider is that certain people get paid highly because they are able to use their connections to bring in many more dollars than otherwise would have been received by the charity.

I think what it comes down to is this – to the average person their salaries are over the top. However, that is an opinion and is relative to each person. Eddie pointed out further:

You will hard-pressed to find CEO’s at companies the size of Komen making less than a million dollars. And, not-for-profits have all the issues that for-profits have PLUS all the non-profit compliance issues.

Only 40%/28%/12% of the donations go to actual charity. The rest goes for administrative costs.
I’m not sure where people were coming up with these numbers, but they’re very inconsistent and way off. According to Charity Navigating (an objective third party who rates charities), 80.5% of what they bring in goes to research, education, screening or treatment. That might not sound like a lot, but when you look at other charities of a similar size that’s pretty much on par.

Planned Parenthood’s PRIMARY mission is to provide low cost/no cost abortions. 75% of its funding goes to this exact purpose.
Not true. Regardless of your position on abortion, Planned Parenthood does provide other services – good services – and abortion is only a small portion of what they do. If you are opposed to Planned Parenthood that’s your business. But don’t skew the statistics.

There were other statements that I took issue with, but writing this post has exhausted me, taken all day, and I’m just done. As I said above, I am not endorsing or promoting either Planned Parenthood or Susan G. Komen and have actually kept my personal opinions regarding the two to myself.

Comments? Great! All I ask is that they be respectful.

Heart Like a Balloon

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Last night as I sat down to see what was new with my Facebook friends I whooped it up when I saw my friend, Shelley, hit her five year no cancer goal. I’ve known Shelley for what feels like forever. She’s the little sister of my junior high, high school, matron of honor, etc. partner in crime friend, Cathy. Two memories of Shelley from back in the day: 1. She could recite pretty much all of 16 Candles; and 2. She could do the entire “Thriller” dance.

I know exactly how she felt yesterday. You get breast cancer, you have surgery and go through treatment, you slowly get better and each time you have an oncology appointment you come away happy to know you’re not showing any evidence of disease. And then you hit that five year mark and your chances of recurrence or metastasis dramatically drop. You can see many more wedding anniversaries and children’s milestones far into your future. And, even though you hadn’t really been worried about it, you’re relieved and excited and happy and feel like celebrating. I’m pretty sure champagne was involved on the West Coast last night.

My heart soared.

As I continued to peruse the statuses I came upon one from a Mothers with Cancer associate. That’s when I found out another one of our writers, Judy, had been admitted to hospice. Judy was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer in December of 2007 and determined in remission the following year. Nearly two years later, November of 2010, she was found to have a recurrence and she fought it with everything in her. And there was a lot in her! A lot of faith, a lot of courage, a lot of strength and she wrote about her experience with so much raw vulnerability and authenticity that you couldn’t help but know, admire and love her. She also wrote about the fear and the pain and the sadness and her desire to be a mom to her young son and a wife to her loving husband.

My soaring heart plummeted.

This morning I found out that she passed away last night. I never met this woman in person and yet I feel such a strong connection to the women of Mothers with Cancer. Every time we lose one it’s like losing a part of myself and I daresay it’s the same with the other contributors. She leaves behind a devoted husband and a 10-year-old son – probably the biggest fear of a Mother with Cancer.

My heart now feels deflated.

Guilty Pleasure

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My heart was still very heavy this morning. How could it not be?

Not only because of my last post, but also because some good friends of ours are going through a horrible time. I want so much to wave my magic wand and make everything all better RIGHT NOW. This problem, though, is kind of unimaginable and is going to take a whole lot more than just a wave of that wand.

And then yesterday we all woke to news of a horrible earthquake and deadly tsunami in Japan, more than 1,000 known dead at this time, possible radiation leaks from a nuclear reactor… it all sounds like another one of those epic apocalyptic movies that have been so popular in the last few years. It’s hard to wrap my mind around so much devastation on such a grand scale.

But I had plans yesterday. A part of me felt almost like I should cancel my plans because it wouldn’t be right to enjoy myself when so much heartache is going on around us. That guilt didn’t win, however, and I’m so glad. Instead, I had one of the best days I ever remember having. Taylor and I went to Lancaster for the day – just the two of us. We went to the cannery and to Kitchen Kettle Village and ate whoopie pies and drank coffee and tasted jams and peanut butters and dips and just talked. He even went into a craft store with me and I dare say he enjoyed it!

Sometimes I miss my babies to the point of hurting. How I long for those days when I was their everything and they would sit on my lap and snuggle with me and want to be with me all the time. Don’t get me wrong. I remember thinking “Please just leave me alone for 10 minutes. That’s all I ask.” But now he’s off at college doing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing and Katie’s busy being a 16-year-old and doing exactly what she’s supposed to be doing. And that brings me an inordinate amount of joy. What a blessing to see what they’re becoming. And they’re becoming these incredible people that I’m so proud of.

But yesterday was just me and my boy. I wish I could express in words just how wonderful it was. “Delightful”? “Pleasant”? “Enjoyable”? I don’t think any of those words do it justice. My heart and my soul were near to bursting yesterday with the joy of just hanging out with my boy. And though I miss those days when they were young and their worlds revolved around me, I wouldn’t trade yesterday’s excursion for anything.

Tomorrow he goes back to school and I’ll miss him. But I’m also glad for him. He loves school and he loves the kids he’s gotten to become friends with. Our lives will get back to normal and things will go on as usual. But yesterday – and today – I had to put off mourning the external things that make me sad so I could just focus on something that makes me overjoyed.

Goodness Among So Much Sadness

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There has been so much sadness among the overlapping circles of my community the last few weeks.

***

It started when Kristi, a young pregnant woman from church, saw her doctor for what they thought was bronchitis. Her oxygen levels were very low so they took her twins about 8 weeks early. The beautiful baby girls were born healthy, both over 4 pounds and are continuing to grow just as they should. But after the delivery they admitted Kristi to ICU due to the bronchitis turning into pneumonia. While there she went into cardiac arrest and she was med-flighted to University of Pennsylvania Hospital in Philly where it was confirmed she actually had myocarditis and postpartum cardiomyopathy caused by Influenza A. She was put on a heart/lung machine to do all the work so her heart and lungs could rest and heal.

***

A few days later my friend, Laura, unexpectedly lost her father to a heart attack.

***

This past Saturday a young man in Katie’s graduating class at school succumbed to his fight with brain cancer. He was only in the 10th grade. I didn’t know the boy, but I cried for his loss Sunday night. I cried for all the kids who did know him and are heartbroken right now. And I cried for his parents because I can’t begin to imagine that pain and I selfishly pray I never will.

***

There’s the sadness. Where’s the goodness?

***

Sunday afternoon the youth pastor at our church posted on Facebook that part of that night’s service would be devoted to praying for the family and friends of Conor. Word spread like wildfire and 200 kids came to honor their peer. Teenagers from every different social group and even religious beliefs came together for a united purpose. What a testament to this young man’s very short life. There were a lot of tears and hurt in that room, but there was also comfort for all those kids in knowing they weren’t hurting alone.

***

When word spread that Laura’s dad had passed away the troops rallied to take care of her and her family. I’ve said before how much I love this neighborhood and these past two weeks have just cemented that. I’m beyond glad that I live among these women and that we could help ease Laura’s stress just the teensiest bit. I wish we could do more for her, but she knows she only has to say the word and we’re there.

***

The outpouring of love and concern for Kristi has been unbelievable. It’s incredible to see hundreds of people come forward to help the family in so many different ways. Kristi is the kind of person who is so easy to like. She has such an infectious smile and a twinkle in her eyes and she’s just genuinely kind. It’s obvious people love her and her whole family.

I am so happy to say that Kristi improves a little bit every day. They are slowly reducing her off the machine and have been able to reduce her sedation as well. Today she was able to see pictures of her children (she has two daughters in addition to the twin girls she just had) and was assured all four of the girls are doing well. She’s going to have a long road ahead of her, but it’s good to know she has an extraordinary support system.

***

Obviously I wish none of these things ever happened, but they did. Life isn’t always fair and it certainly isn’t always good. But it’s in those bad times that you find out there really is goodness in the world.

Just Another Oncology Appointment

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This coming Wednesday I’m going to see my wonderful oncologist, otherwise known as The White Russian, for my 6 month check up. I’m pretty sure I know how it will pan out. I’ll sit in the waiting room happily reading until the nurse calls my name. She and I will walk back to the nurse’s station while she blames me for the weight she’s gained because I happened to tell her about Hope’s Cookies and now she can’t ever drive by there without stopping. Then, just to be spiteful I’m sure, she’ll make ME stand on the scale (at which time I’ll tell her again that I’ll be a good 30 pounds less the next time she sees me) and drain a couple vials of blood from my arm.

Once I get to the examination room I’ll be depressed about the weight she just recorded for all of eternity and The White Russian will walk in, disturbing my lamentations, and say how great it is to see a healthy person. Then I’ll feel bad about my whining when I would take every single ounce and then some if it meant not having cancer anymore.

He will ask how my summer was and what my family did. I’ll tell him we drove to Arkansas for a week to visit friends and family and how we didn’t get to see half the people we would have liked to. Then I’ll tell him how I flew to Seattle the following week to spend some time in a beach house with four other women. We’ll also talk about the tight, tingling, almost painful pressure my left arm feels whenever I fly or even ride in the car for any length of time without any support and he’ll look for signs of lymphedema. Thankfully he won’t find any unusual swelling and I’ll be told to keep wearing the compression sleeve when I fly and hopefully we’ll dodge this particular bullet.

After that we’ll discuss the stiffness in my joints and other bodily aches and we’ll decide that since it’s not debilitating pain I’ll just remain on the Arimidex for another 15 months. This is when I’ll realize I’m only little more than a year out from my 5-year goal and that will make me happy.

Most likely The White Russian will order a bone density scan because the combination of no ovaries and the Arimidex make for early onset osteoporosis. He’ll also probably decide I should have a colonoscopy because I haven’t had one yet and colon cancer is somehow closely related to breast cancer. Not only that, but there is a history of colon cancer in my family.

We will also look at my blood work which will no doubt look good except for my white count and other immune system related values. They might be within normal limits, but I can tell you right now they’re going to be low. How do I know this? Well for one thing they’re always on the low side of normal. In the nearly four years I’ve been finished with chemo they have never gotten very far above the line. But I’ve also managed to wear myself down which always results in a thick and swollen tongue, my own personal telltale sign of a low WBC. When it’s really bad, like it was after my trip to Seattle, minor cuts and blisters won’t heal and I’ll get a funky feeling that I just can’t describe so I’m not even going to try.

Thrown in between all this clinical stuff he’ll ask about my kids. When I tell him Taylor is now a senior in high school he’ll ask about his desired major and college. He’ll also ask how Katie likes high school and what do I think about being on this end of parenting. The White Russian will tell me a little about his family and their summer and before I know it my visit will be over.

I’ll then get to Peggy’s desk and we’ll chat for a moment and schedule my next appointment for sometime around March or so. And while I’m so happy I don’t have to make weekly or even monthly visits to the oncologist anymore, I’ll be just the teensiest bit sad that I don’t get to see these people for another six months. But then I’ll stop at Starbuck’s on my way home for a Venti White Chocolate Mocha with whip (Weight Watcher’s points don’t count on oncology days) and all will be right with the world.

I do wish I hadn’t gained all this weight (which I blame all on the various treatments I’ve been through since diagnosis) and I would love it if my body would be more cooperative and less stiff and achy. I’m very conscious about the possibility of lymphedema and I’m a little angry about the whole osteoporosis thing. The thing that bothers me the most right now is the white counts and the swollen tongue. How weird is that? It’s always swollen, but it gets worse when I’m feeling bad or overly tired and it gets in the way when I’m trying to talk and I’m always biting the sides with my sharp carnivorous molars.

Nobody ever tells you about all the stuff you have to deal with AFTER treatment, even if you don’t have any more cancer. But I’ll take all of it just to get to my 5-year goal and hear those magic words, “No Evidence of Disease”. And as I’m driving home I’ll start relaxing, even though I didn’t realize just how tense I was. I always expect a good report, but somewhere in the far reaches of my mind I suppose I fear the worst.

Finally, I’ll start thinking about those I know who don’t get to hear those words that I’m sure to. The women who are dealing with a recurrence or a metastasis, those who seem to be losing their fight, and especially those we’ve had to say goodbye to. My joy at another good report will be dimmed by the sadness for those who are not as fortunate and I’ll be reminded just how horrific cancer is.

And in six months I’ll do it all again.

Cross-posted at Mothers With Cancer

I Can’t Be Depressed. I’m A Christian.

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WARNING: The following post may be lengthy, convoluted, angsty and just plain lousy.

I have always been a pretty happy person. Things never really bothered me, I got along well with just about everybody, I was usually good for a smile or a laugh. I’m still that same person, but something has changed over the last couple of years.

Depression is just not something I’ve ever had to deal with. Oh sure, I’ve been sad – I suppose I’ve had situational depression. I would guess everybody has that at one time or another. But I’ve never suffered from clinical depression. Even when I was diagnosed with cancer; even when I was going through chemotherapy; even when Todd was living 1200 miles away – I don’t think I was clinically depressed.

Now? I’m not so sure. Not ever having experienced it before I’m not positive what I’m going through. The word depression has flitted through my conscience, but I dismiss it as soon as it shows up. I’m hesitant to go see my doctor about this because I fear he’ll take the easy way out and say, “Yeah, you’re depressed. Take a happy pill once a day and you’ll be fine.” Now I’m not opposed to that if it’s what I truly need, but I want to be sure before I start popping pretty colored capsules on a regular basis.

A friend of mine used to suffer from severe clinical depression complete with feelings of hopelessness and suicidal thoughts. She fought professional help because she had been told one time or another that good Christians didn’t suffer from depression. She also tried to kill herself. Thankfully she has since gotten the help she needs and today she is a happy, thriving, GOOD CHRISTIAN, who manages her condition with medication and counseling. I remember feeling so angry on her behalf that she would have such baggage. Real depression is a physical condition, not a weakness of the mind.

What I’m struggling with in no way mirrors my friend’s struggles and yet I find myself thinking, “If I was just closer to God I wouldn’t be feeling this way.” Makes me want to smack me. Now don’t get me wrong. I wholeheartedly believe Jesus keeps me stabilized. In fact, I KNOW Jesus keeps me stabilized. I’m sure my emotions would be even messier without Him! But there’s definitely something else going on that hasn’t before.

So what IS going on? Is it because my hormones have been totally out of whack for the last few years? I suppose it could be. I’ve also read (but I can’t remember where so I don’t know how reliable this source is) that chemotherapy can cause the chemical imbalance which, in turn, causes depression. I know it’s not a thyroid issue (which can cause similar symptoms) because I get that checked every six months.

But I’m always tired and run down. We missed a party last weekend because by 4:00 my head felt like it would explode and I just wanted to sleep. We made it to a different party this past Friday, but as much as I wanted to go (and did have a great time), I would have been content to stay at home and chill on the sofa. Today I was going to go into Philadelphia with a friend of mine for fun and a free photography lesson (she’s an awesome photographer). I had to back out because I’ve been “too tired and distracted” to finish up something I’d committed to do a while go and it needs to be done by tomorrow.

My house is a wreck and I hate it like this. I’ve never been an exceptional housekeeper, but neither have I ever been as bad as I am now. I care and yet I don’t care. I want it to be clean and tidy but the effort is too much. For a while I just figured my cleaning skills were stagnant from being waited on so much during treatment. That was over three years ago, however, so that excuse has gotten pretty thin. I’m just plain lazy. Except I was never this lazy before.

Most of the time I don’t feel sad so I can’t be depressed, right? I’m just always tired. Unless I’m busy doing something. I love my job and I don’t seem to have the lazy or tired problem there. But when I get home I’m too exhausted to do much of anything. If only I would eat better; exercise regularly; pray and or study my Bible more I would feel like I used to, right? If I would lose weight I would feel better about myself. If my house was clean I would feel better about myself. If I would accomplish something worthwhile I would feel better about myself.

This morning as we were getting ready for church I complained to Todd about having a headache and being tired even though I had a good 8 hours or so of sleep last night. Very cautiously he said, “I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you to get defensive. I just want you to think about it. You might be depressed.” Instead of getting defensive or thinking about it I told him I thought he might be right.

We talked about it more this evening and I’ve decided to call my doctor tomorrow morning. Todd came right out and said I’ve not been the same for a while. The funny thing is I was fine during the year from hell. So why am I not fine now? Who knows? I suppose I don’t have to know.

There’s a part of me – a fairly large part of me – who hopes I am depressed. It would explain so much of my behavior that I don’t like at all. My laziness, my lack of concentration, my inability to stick to any type of exercise regime or eating plan – things I never had problems with before. Gosh! Maybe that’s why I don’t read like I used to. If there is a medication that I could take temporarily and would help me straighten out my wonkiness that would be great!

But here’s my fear. From the minute I was diagnosed nearly four years ago I became the sole object of Todd’s focus. He treated me like a queen, doting on me every second. When I had my mastectomy the following week he would hardly let anyone near me. He emptied my drains, bathed me, Veeted my legs, brought me food, set me up in the chair or in bed, made sure I was comfortable — you name it, he did it. I worried that as soon as he was left alone and given time to think about our situation he would have a breakdown. Ten days after my surgery he got in his truck and left for the 1200 mile drive.

The first day was fine and he drove to Bristol, Virginia. The next morning after about an hour or so of driving he ended up in an ambulance on his way to a hospital with heart attack symptoms. It all caught up to him and he was put on an antianxiety and an antidepressant. After we were reunited as a family and everything was good again he tried to go off the antidepressant. Turns out the withdrawals from this particular medication are as bad as the original symptoms. So he’s on this drug indefinitely and he hates it. I’m afraid of that happening.

I hope this post hasn’t given the impression that I’m always sad or mopey or distraught. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m not severely depressed – I don’t feel hopeless and I’m not having suicidal tendencies AT ALL. It doesn’t effect my job or my marriage or my parenting (I don’t think, anyway). I would guess most people I know have no idea I’ve been having these struggles, though there were a couple people at church this morning who could tell something wasn’t right. But that’s because all of this came to a head today.

So why tell you all this? I’m not sure. Maybe for some wise words from those of you who have similar struggles. Maybe for prayers. Maybe because writing all this down is good therapy. Or maybe just to say that even a good Christian can be depressed.

A Heavy Heart

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Some very special friends of ours are going through something horrendous right now. Todd and I have both shed tears today at the thought of their circumstances and the difficult decisions they’re facing. “Difficult” seems too benign a word. Sometimes recipes are “difficult”. Sometimes people are “difficult”. Parking a landboat in a crowded lot is “difficult”. What they’re experiencing right now goes so far beyond “difficult”, but I don’t know what other word to use.

The one shining light in all this? I can’t elaborate, but these friends are more extraordinary than we ever realized and it is a blessing to see how God is at work in their lives even through this mess. At how they’re ALLOWING God to be at work in their lives even through this mess.

This is only the beginning of what will be a terrible season of their lives. My heart is breaking for them and if I hurt this much, how much more do they hurt? Please pray for them. You don’t need to know the details. God knows exactly who you’re thinking of.