This morning, for the first time since Friday of last week, I woke up without pain.
And the angels sang.
Who did too much on vacation? This girl did. For the last several days, I've had aches and pains in places that haven't hurt since mid-July. But it appears that a steady schedule of sitting on my couch and watching TV for the last two days, combined with sleeping in my actual bed (and not lying on the floor/ground) have helped my body recoup.
I could not be more thrilled.
This is a red letter day. No pain, AND I have another round of Thank You notes going out today. (I tell you what, I feel so accomplished when I have a bundle of envelopes to drop in the mail box!)
Today, I am mailing cards to:
New Jersey
Wisconsin
Illinois
Texas
Idaho
Utah
My own hometown and the greater Phoenix area
Last week, I sent cards to:
Rhode Island
Texas
Pennsylvania
Utah
Idaho
England
Australia
Russia
Again, my own hometown and the greater Phoenix area (I heart my fellow Arizonans. A lot!)
I'm halfway through my fifth book of stamps (since mid-July), and I often feel like I'll never be able to say thank you enough, or to all the people I want to say it to. It is astonishing to me, when I think of the acts of service and love that have been shown me in the last three months, quantified by how many stamps it has taken to start to get a leg-up on thanking the world for having loved me. (And I can only send cards to the people who I know have contributed or helped me. So very many have stayed in the shadows, given cash that's untraceable and performed service behind closed doors.)
I am, once again, so far beyond grateful that I have to wonder how this happened to my life. Thank you, all of you, for doing whatever it was that you did. The last twelve weeks of my life have been tremulous at times, but they have also been filled with so much love that I cannot wrap my head around it.
Thank you, to all of you in the www... Thank you for having had enough love in your heart to help me in any way that you could; for remembering me, for praying for me and for taking the time to let me know that you were aware of what was happening in my life. I will never, ever be able to say it enough, but I'll say it one more time. Thank you. So much.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
September 4
So, I went to Utah last week. It was awesome! (Seriously. Awesome. Only in a basement bedroom in Utah could I sleep a full ten hours, under a heavy quilt, in August...) Here's a breakdown:
* Flew in Wednesday night. (Ate a Caesar salad at the airport and didn't get sick. Viva la return of salad dressing to my life!)
* Visited with my cousins Rachel and Julie at the same time Thursday morning. (I'd slept in that day, and had just woken up as I heard Julie ring the doorbell. I hurriedly got dressed, so I could join them in the family room. ... One of my favorite moments of the whole weekend was hearing snatches of their conversation and thinking "That's so funny... I can hear different elements of my voice, and my laugh, coming from the other room." Genetics are awesome.)
* Spent Thursday-day with Julie, running errands (dropping by the BYU Bookstore to get me some chocolate milk among them) and hanging out. Thursday-night, my Olettie Colettie came to get me and we went to dinner at The Spaghetti Factory. We laughed, we cried, I ate Mizithra cheese, and she introduced me to the most delicious chocolate drink on the planet. It was a little bit of heaven.
* Friday morning, I spent time with Mark and Rachel. (I love them!) Julie came to get me mid-morning and I went home with her to whip up a batch of sugar cookie frosting, then she dropped me at (drum roll, please) Burgers Supreme for lunch with Jenni and Trev. After I ate a bacon cheeseburger literally dripping mustard and fry sauce mixed with ketchup (thank you, Stomach, for coming back to me ... on some levels, anyway), Jen took me back to Julie's, where I frosted a few dozen cookies while Julie entertained more than a handful of children at Pari's birthday party. (Don't feel sorry for me, frosting the cookies. Julie's job was waaaaaaay harder than mine!) Friday night, Kathy the Younger came for me and took me to the most delightful little place in Orem, where we drank the most delicious passion fruit Arnold Palmer, ate the most divine food (gnocchi with mustard seeds and cream for me, and a roasted corn, pablano chile and goat cheese pizza for her) and talked the night away.
* Saturday morning, I was picked up by former FB-only friends and we quickly became actual friends who share a love of syrup, Monte Cristos, Disney parks, donuts and good humor. They dropped me at the church for Pari's baptism, where I was privileged to sit and sing congregational hymns with my cousins, and I was able to meet my mother's cousin, David, who I'd been emailing off and on this summer. (I heart family. So much.) In the afternoon, we went back to Julie's neighborhood for a luncheon. I was able to talk - and laugh - with my cousins. I even got to hold a baby! (For five minutes, until he started wiggling and he hurt me, at which point I handed him back to his mom, but I did get to hold him!) We ate and we made merry, late into the evening.
* Sunday, my good friend Mich came over to the house and we sprawled across the bed in the apartment, talking (off and on) with Rach until 2:00 or so, at which time we left for the airport, by way of Wendy's so I could get some chicken nuggets and a baked potato. (You know me, always a connoisseur of the finer foods...) I flew back in Sunday night, tired-er than tired, but so grateful for the time I'd been able to spend with some of my favorite people in the whole, wide world!
* Spaghetti is no longer the enemy. (Halle-freakin-lujah!)
* Cafe Rio is not my friend. (Specifically, the jalapeno ranch salad dressing and I are friends-off.)
* Grape Jelly frosted donuts are way (WAY!) better than they sound.
* I can only drink half a bottle of BYU Creamery chocolate milk at a time. (Tragic!)
* There are ladies (plural) who frequent the Orem public library who read my blog. I'm talking, strangers. AKA: people who've never met me. They've talked to my friend Kathy U. (who does know me) about the blog and my story. I am astonished. (And feel a little bit like a celebrity. ... Does this put me on near-equal grounds with Nathan, do you think? I hope so! It's about time that he realized that we have a heck of a lot in common and he needs to fall in love with me and marry me, already!)
* Pumpkin pancakes + buttermilk syrup (and candied bacon) is a heck of a way to start a Saturday!
* Three words: Roasted. Cocoa. Beans. (Seriously. They have these coffee-store-esque chocolate shops in Utah. Roasted cocoa beans that are then ground and brewed like coffee.) Three more words: Best. Thing. Ever.
* Paper products do not last forever. (I stayed with my cousin Rachel et al, who live in our grandparents' home. Rachel and Mark found some circa 1978 toilet paper in storage and thought they'd make my day by putting it in the apartment bathroom. ... It did, in fact, make my day, in that I laughed OUT LOUD when I saw the MD TP packaging from my childhood. It did not make my day so much when I unwrapped (and used) said TP, and then could not get it to flush. It appears that there is a chemical change in TP when it's left in storage for 20+ years. Not only was it thinner and scratchier than the cheapest 1-ply tissue should ever be, but it would not flush. Seriously, I'd have to let it sit and soak for a good 15-30 minutes so it could get wet all the way through before it would go down the hatch. A little bit disgusting, I know... but it was a lot hilarious, so I had to share.)
* "Your blog made me laugh out loud." (High praise from a former stranger. I am flattered beyond words. ... Also, I am happy to know that people who haven't ever met me can read my blog and think I am funny, and not a complete and utter - oversharing - lunatic with an unreasonable affinity for parenthetical comments.)
* "You are the best story-teller I know." (Thank you, Colette. This is in my Top Three Favorite Compliments of All Time. - The other two being "you're so funny" and "you are beautiful", in case anyone wondered.)
* "You look so much better than I was expecting you to!" (Seriously, I heard this from almost every single person I came into contact with. Apparently, this kind of comment is what comes of having posted pics of myself to the blog when I was still in my no-make-up surgical recovery stage.)
* "I love you!" (Currently, these three words are tied with "roasted cocoa beans" for being my favorite words in the English language.)
* "Thank you!" (To so many people, for so many things.)
* "I love you!" (To so many people, for so many reasons. Over and over again, and I meant it every time.)
And now... a short photo essay.
And this is me with Cousin David and his lovely wife, Georgia. (Okay, he's technically my mother's cousin, but I believe in calling all relations of a cousinly nature by the title of Cousin, with a capital C, whenever appropriate.)
A big, fat "THANK YOU!" goes out to my family for letting me stay with them and eat their food. A further thank you goes out to the many people who chauffeured me about Provo. I don't know who or where I'd be without my family and my friends. You all have made me who I am today, and you give my life value that it wouldn't have without you.
** Also, a thank you - and an apology - to readers who may not be related to me or have an interest in what I did, and who I did it with, whilst on vaca in Utah County. Please stay tuned for some seriously shorter posts in the near future.
Stuff I did:
* Flew in Wednesday night. (Ate a Caesar salad at the airport and didn't get sick. Viva la return of salad dressing to my life!)
* Visited with my cousins Rachel and Julie at the same time Thursday morning. (I'd slept in that day, and had just woken up as I heard Julie ring the doorbell. I hurriedly got dressed, so I could join them in the family room. ... One of my favorite moments of the whole weekend was hearing snatches of their conversation and thinking "That's so funny... I can hear different elements of my voice, and my laugh, coming from the other room." Genetics are awesome.)
* Spent Thursday-day with Julie, running errands (dropping by the BYU Bookstore to get me some chocolate milk among them) and hanging out. Thursday-night, my Olettie Colettie came to get me and we went to dinner at The Spaghetti Factory. We laughed, we cried, I ate Mizithra cheese, and she introduced me to the most delicious chocolate drink on the planet. It was a little bit of heaven.
* Friday morning, I spent time with Mark and Rachel. (I love them!) Julie came to get me mid-morning and I went home with her to whip up a batch of sugar cookie frosting, then she dropped me at (drum roll, please) Burgers Supreme for lunch with Jenni and Trev. After I ate a bacon cheeseburger literally dripping mustard and fry sauce mixed with ketchup (thank you, Stomach, for coming back to me ... on some levels, anyway), Jen took me back to Julie's, where I frosted a few dozen cookies while Julie entertained more than a handful of children at Pari's birthday party. (Don't feel sorry for me, frosting the cookies. Julie's job was waaaaaaay harder than mine!) Friday night, Kathy the Younger came for me and took me to the most delightful little place in Orem, where we drank the most delicious passion fruit Arnold Palmer, ate the most divine food (gnocchi with mustard seeds and cream for me, and a roasted corn, pablano chile and goat cheese pizza for her) and talked the night away.
* Saturday morning, I was picked up by former FB-only friends and we quickly became actual friends who share a love of syrup, Monte Cristos, Disney parks, donuts and good humor. They dropped me at the church for Pari's baptism, where I was privileged to sit and sing congregational hymns with my cousins, and I was able to meet my mother's cousin, David, who I'd been emailing off and on this summer. (I heart family. So much.) In the afternoon, we went back to Julie's neighborhood for a luncheon. I was able to talk - and laugh - with my cousins. I even got to hold a baby! (For five minutes, until he started wiggling and he hurt me, at which point I handed him back to his mom, but I did get to hold him!) We ate and we made merry, late into the evening.
* Sunday, my good friend Mich came over to the house and we sprawled across the bed in the apartment, talking (off and on) with Rach until 2:00 or so, at which time we left for the airport, by way of Wendy's so I could get some chicken nuggets and a baked potato. (You know me, always a connoisseur of the finer foods...) I flew back in Sunday night, tired-er than tired, but so grateful for the time I'd been able to spend with some of my favorite people in the whole, wide world!
Stuff I learned:
* Spaghetti is no longer the enemy. (Halle-freakin-lujah!)
* Cafe Rio is not my friend. (Specifically, the jalapeno ranch salad dressing and I are friends-off.)
* Grape Jelly frosted donuts are way (WAY!) better than they sound.
* I can only drink half a bottle of BYU Creamery chocolate milk at a time. (Tragic!)
* There are ladies (plural) who frequent the Orem public library who read my blog. I'm talking, strangers. AKA: people who've never met me. They've talked to my friend Kathy U. (who does know me) about the blog and my story. I am astonished. (And feel a little bit like a celebrity. ... Does this put me on near-equal grounds with Nathan, do you think? I hope so! It's about time that he realized that we have a heck of a lot in common and he needs to fall in love with me and marry me, already!)
* Pumpkin pancakes + buttermilk syrup (and candied bacon) is a heck of a way to start a Saturday!
* Three words: Roasted. Cocoa. Beans. (Seriously. They have these coffee-store-esque chocolate shops in Utah. Roasted cocoa beans that are then ground and brewed like coffee.) Three more words: Best. Thing. Ever.
* Paper products do not last forever. (I stayed with my cousin Rachel et al, who live in our grandparents' home. Rachel and Mark found some circa 1978 toilet paper in storage and thought they'd make my day by putting it in the apartment bathroom. ... It did, in fact, make my day, in that I laughed OUT LOUD when I saw the MD TP packaging from my childhood. It did not make my day so much when I unwrapped (and used) said TP, and then could not get it to flush. It appears that there is a chemical change in TP when it's left in storage for 20+ years. Not only was it thinner and scratchier than the cheapest 1-ply tissue should ever be, but it would not flush. Seriously, I'd have to let it sit and soak for a good 15-30 minutes so it could get wet all the way through before it would go down the hatch. A little bit disgusting, I know... but it was a lot hilarious, so I had to share.)
Stuff I heard:
* "Your blog made me laugh out loud." (High praise from a former stranger. I am flattered beyond words. ... Also, I am happy to know that people who haven't ever met me can read my blog and think I am funny, and not a complete and utter - oversharing - lunatic with an unreasonable affinity for parenthetical comments.)
* "You are the best story-teller I know." (Thank you, Colette. This is in my Top Three Favorite Compliments of All Time. - The other two being "you're so funny" and "you are beautiful", in case anyone wondered.)
* "You look so much better than I was expecting you to!" (Seriously, I heard this from almost every single person I came into contact with. Apparently, this kind of comment is what comes of having posted pics of myself to the blog when I was still in my no-make-up surgical recovery stage.)
* "I love you!" (Currently, these three words are tied with "roasted cocoa beans" for being my favorite words in the English language.)
Stuff I said:
* "Thank you!" (To so many people, for so many things.)
* "I love you!" (To so many people, for so many reasons. Over and over again, and I meant it every time.)
And now... a short photo essay.
Look, Mom, it's your mom's old vacuum!
And how can I tell that it's Grammy's old vacuum (and not yours)?
Because it has a Grandad Special label on it. (Also, possibly dust left over from 1997. In retrospect, I should have grabbed a rag and wiped the thing down before I took its picture. We're gonna pretend that the dust adds to the charm of this photo.)
Look, it's me with the youngest Ball baby!
I love him and his fuzzy little head. Cutest. Baby. Ever.
And here I am with my cousin Julie and a whole lot of greenery. (Don't get me wrong. I am not complaining about living in the desert, in the summer... But HOLY MOLY, look at all that green!)
This is me with the Mangums.
I love them and their donut-buying ways!
And this is me with Cousin David and his lovely wife, Georgia. (Okay, he's technically my mother's cousin, but I believe in calling all relations of a cousinly nature by the title of Cousin, with a capital C, whenever appropriate.)
Doesn't he look like Uncle Dick?! I love it!
And, okay... one more. This is not a great pic of me, uh..... stomach-wise, but I'm going to blame that little pooch on all the yards of extra skin I have about my mid-section. (If and when I ever have to have surgery again, I really am going to talk to the surgeon about taking some of that with any/everything else he takes from me while I'm under.)
Robin snapped this while Julie and I were talking (and, clearly, laughing) in the back yard. I love that Jule's bent over in a laugh and I'm smiling up at her. One of her girls saw this pic and said "You really are the best cousins!" Yes, yes we are.
A big, fat "THANK YOU!" goes out to my family for letting me stay with them and eat their food. A further thank you goes out to the many people who chauffeured me about Provo. I don't know who or where I'd be without my family and my friends. You all have made me who I am today, and you give my life value that it wouldn't have without you.
** Also, a thank you - and an apology - to readers who may not be related to me or have an interest in what I did, and who I did it with, whilst on vaca in Utah County. Please stay tuned for some seriously shorter posts in the near future.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
August 30
Conversations with a 5 year old
In the kitchen this morning:
Meg: Laurie, do you want to watch a scary movie with me?
Me: No, thank you. But you can watch it by yourself if you want to.
Meg: But....
Me: I don't really like scary movies, is why.
Meg: But moms don't get scared.
Me: I'm not a mom, so I still get scared.
Meg: What?
Me: I'm not a mom.
Meg: Yes you are.
Me: No, I'm not. You have to have kids to be a mom and I don't have kids.
Meg: YOU DON'T HAVE KIDS?!
Me: Nope.
Meg: Why not?
Me: Because I don't. I never have. ... I don't have a husband, either.
Meg: I don't understand this.
Sitting in chairs at the bookstore while Julie was in line for customer service:
Meg, leaning into me, running her hand over my upper arm: This is squishy.
Me: I know. I'm squishy everywhere. See? (As I poked into my squishy stomach, squishy arms and squishy legs. ... Meg's mom is rail thin, so the child has no concept of squishy women.)
Meg: Wow
Me: I know! Come here, and hug me.
She came over and leaned into my chest, wrapped her arms around my middle and squeezed. I pushed against her hands so she could feel how squishy my sides and back are. She giggled and hugged me tighter, and then, pulling away...
Meg: It's okay that you're squishy, because you're so beautiful.
At the store, after spending ten minutes trying on shirts while Julie checked out:
Meg: You were right, I like to go to the store now.
Me: Because we got to try on shoes and clothes?
Meg: Because Laurie is here.
I love this child! (And not only because she keeps telling me how pretty I am, usually while she's running her finger over the moles on my chin. Silly girl.)
Family, specifically my little cousins, make me happy.
Wednesday, August 29, 2012
August 29
I want to send a Thank You card to all the world.
I'm not kidding. I want to. I need to. ... It is the only thing that I can do that comes anywhere near expressing the gratitude that I feel towards you. And you. And you.
I lead a charmed life. I always have. I have always been close to my family, both immediate and extended. I have always had dear friends who have blessed my life. I have been so lucky to have known so many good people in every town/city I have ever lived in, and I have been fortunate in that I've been able to keep and maintain so very many of the relationships I've made over the years.
People have always been the most important commodity in my life. My friends have defined me for the past 30+ years. But this summer, you have saved me.
Thank you.
Thank you, to my friends. And to the friends of my friends. Your kindness, your generosity, your hard work in fundraisers, your donations and ceaseless emails, texts and FB posts have saved me. Your love has changed me, and I will be indebted to you for the rest of my life.
Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart. I love you.
I'm not kidding. I want to. I need to. ... It is the only thing that I can do that comes anywhere near expressing the gratitude that I feel towards you. And you. And you.
I lead a charmed life. I always have. I have always been close to my family, both immediate and extended. I have always had dear friends who have blessed my life. I have been so lucky to have known so many good people in every town/city I have ever lived in, and I have been fortunate in that I've been able to keep and maintain so very many of the relationships I've made over the years.
People have always been the most important commodity in my life. My friends have defined me for the past 30+ years. But this summer, you have saved me.
Thank you.
Thank you, to my friends. And to the friends of my friends. Your kindness, your generosity, your hard work in fundraisers, your donations and ceaseless emails, texts and FB posts have saved me. Your love has changed me, and I will be indebted to you for the rest of my life.
Thank you, from the very bottom of my heart. I love you.
Monday, August 27, 2012
August 27 - Late
One of my very best and favorite childhood friends posted this picture on her Facebook profile tonight. It spoke volumes to me.
I love the vibrant colors. I love the encouragement to be grateful, to appreciate every good thing, to live life. Every day.
Today was a physical therapy day.
Which you know means that my arm/shoulder is killing me now. (Seriously, you should hear my shoulder blade crackle as I lift my right arm above my head. The good news is that my shoulder appears to be in working order. Now, I'm working on the muscles along, under and across my shoulder blade. We're hoping that my next PT appt will be my last PT appt. How awesome would that be?!)
Also, if you're any kind of a regular reader, you know that a PT day is an MD Anderson day. And as much as I don't love the sensation of having Lee pull my arm out of my socket and across my body to stretch my tendons out, I do so love that I have the opportunity to go to physical therapy. I'm so grateful that there are ways to fix broken and tired bodies. I'm so grateful for the opportunity I have had to get treatment in such a beautiful facility, with such excellent staff.
I am so grateful for my own poor health. It may not be perfect scenario, but it's sure not worst scenario, either.
I made two new friends at MD today, while we were waiting for the receptionist to finish her paperwork so she could check us in. (The cute and little one who walked with a cane complimented me on my purse. You know that endeared me to her, right off!) My two new friends are both in their sixties. One of them is a breast cancer survivor, 16 years out. (I can hardly wait 15 years and 10 months so I can say the same thing!) Her step-daughter and two grandchildren have died of complications of fibroid tumors. She has a granddaughter, not two years old, who has a tumor growing behind her eye. They aren't sure yet if it will kill her. ... I cannot imagine what that sweet woman is going through. My other new friend is dying. Her cancer started in her throat. They thought they got it all, but it metastasized to her colon and then spread to her lungs and now it's in her brain. I just wanted to hug her, because she is happy. She is a kindred spirit, because she noticed my purse and commented on the patent leather. I love her. I love both of them. We talked before my treatment for a while, and then afterwards, I got out at the same time they did and we walked to the elevators and down to the parking lot together. And while we walked and talked, one of them said the most interesting thing...
They felt badly for me, because I am young.
I don't feel badly for me, because I am young. My body may be a lot slower than it was a few years ago. I may hurt in places that I shouldn't hurt, and I may have digestive issues that I never would have thought possible prior to 2010, but I am young. I have time on my side, and of all the cancers in all the world to have, I happened to grow one of the very few malignant tumors that aren't likely to metastasize. Ever.
I am young. (Well, relatively. I mean, I did have a 20 year high school reunion this summer, but in the grand scheme of things, esp when I'm sitting in a cancer treatment center, I am young.) My body will heal faster than my 60, 50 or even 40 yr old counterparts will. Time is on my side, in that there may be a cure in my lifetime. (Bring on the stem cell research!) I am so blessed.
I am so blessed, in that I have always had skilled and dedicated doctors on my side. I am so blessed, in that I have had opportunities, through surgeries and treatments, to meet people whose journeys are different (and, I think, much more difficult) than my own.
I am so grateful for my new friends - for so very many cancer patients I have met along the way - because they give me perspective that I would not have had without them.
People, life is good. Even when in it is hard, and/or when The Plan seems like crap, life is good. There are good people, and good things all around us. Enjoy them. Every day.
August 27
To be read in a creepy, sing-songy voice... I'm ba-aaaack!
Did ya miss me?
My internet was out all week last week. Weird, right? It was annoying for a day, and then I adjusted. I got busy. I didn't even think to try logging on for three days in a row. It was actually kind of nice to have a vacation from my internet-based lifestyle (you know, with the blogging and/or Netflix watching, it turns out that I had been using the internet probably a little too much). And then today, I missed having a computer, so I called the nice people at Cox and got myself all fixed up.
And thus... I return to you from my six day foray into the world as it was prior to the internet. (I read a lot last week. A. Lot. As in, a book a day for multiple days. Also, I went out and had meals with actual (not virtual) friends, and spent an afternoon with my brother.) Last week was a great week. Being internet-free was excellent, in that it helped me realize that I need to literally unplug a little more often.
That being said, having the internet back is also excellent. I have my voice (that is, my fingernails clicking away on a keyboard) again. Ahhhhhhh... I do love that sound.
Of course, I don't really have a whole heck of a lot to say. But I'm gonna waste some time (both yours and mine) and type a bunch of stuff anyway. (I mean, if we're gonna get back into the swing of things here, we're gonna do it right!)
What you've missed over the last week:
Not much.
A) I've survived working part-time. (So far, that is.) Last week was easier than the first week. I'd posted about my first day of work going better than I'd thought it would or expected it to. (Wasn't that a great report? I was thrilled!) Too bad that "easier than I thought it would be" only lasted for the one day. The second day in that first week, I wanted (read: needed) to lie down before 9:00 AM. The third day, I woke up in extreme pain that didn't go away until the weekend. Awesome. The second week went a little better, in that it wasn't until the fourth day of the work week that I thought my body may have broken in my sleep. Luckily, this week is a short week (I am Utah bound tomorrow night), so I should be able to get through this week without the back pain that comes along with being mobile and productive in the mornings, specifically: sitting in a chair, clicking on a mouse and sifting through loan files that are three inches deep in paper.
B) I watched the Batman trilogy. Yup, you read that right. TRILOGY. (And it was about time, too!) I wasn't able to see The Dark Knight Rises when it first came out in the theaters, due to my inability to breathe like a normal person. I needed to wait for my respiratory system (and... uh... anxiety level) to course correct, so I could handle the theater experience. I am pleased to report that I did not have one single freakout during the entire movie (though my jaw did literally drop more than once, Kirk was with me and he can attest that this is truth). ... Of course, I still think The Dark Knight is the best of the three. (I can't help it. I freaking love that movie. - And no, I don't only love it because Bruce Wayne is a rich and pretty boy for the entirety of the second movie in the trilogy (read: no prison scenes), though that's certainly never going to hurt his cause.) Dark Knight Rises was good. I mean, it was epic, in the true sense of the "all encompassing, story coming full circle" definition of the word. But I prefer the stark dark v. light themes in Dark Knight. I love that Batman takes the fall for something he didn't do, because the city couldn't find out they'd had faith in the wrong man. I love that he can't let their faith be destroyed, because that would mean The Joker won. The Dark Knight is a thing of beauty to me, in that Bruce sacrifices everything for the good of the people and city that he loves. The "set the dogs on me" speech at the end of Dark Knight gives me the chills (and makes me cry). Every time. Without fail.
Ahhhhh... The Batman. What's not to love?! (Except, uh... maybe the prison scenes. As much as it pains me to say it, Christian Bale has some bizarre facial hair and it troubles me when he's not clean-shaven and pretty.)
And... uh, yeah. That's about it. Working four hours a day and watching Batman. That's all I do.
Now you're all caught up on what I've been doing since I was last able to write. I'll see what I can do to come up with something more lively and exciting in the next week or so... Wish me luck!
Did ya miss me?
My internet was out all week last week. Weird, right? It was annoying for a day, and then I adjusted. I got busy. I didn't even think to try logging on for three days in a row. It was actually kind of nice to have a vacation from my internet-based lifestyle (you know, with the blogging and/or Netflix watching, it turns out that I had been using the internet probably a little too much). And then today, I missed having a computer, so I called the nice people at Cox and got myself all fixed up.
And thus... I return to you from my six day foray into the world as it was prior to the internet. (I read a lot last week. A. Lot. As in, a book a day for multiple days. Also, I went out and had meals with actual (not virtual) friends, and spent an afternoon with my brother.) Last week was a great week. Being internet-free was excellent, in that it helped me realize that I need to literally unplug a little more often.
That being said, having the internet back is also excellent. I have my voice (that is, my fingernails clicking away on a keyboard) again. Ahhhhhhh... I do love that sound.
Of course, I don't really have a whole heck of a lot to say. But I'm gonna waste some time (both yours and mine) and type a bunch of stuff anyway. (I mean, if we're gonna get back into the swing of things here, we're gonna do it right!)
What you've missed over the last week:
Not much.
A) I've survived working part-time. (So far, that is.) Last week was easier than the first week. I'd posted about my first day of work going better than I'd thought it would or expected it to. (Wasn't that a great report? I was thrilled!) Too bad that "easier than I thought it would be" only lasted for the one day. The second day in that first week, I wanted (read: needed) to lie down before 9:00 AM. The third day, I woke up in extreme pain that didn't go away until the weekend. Awesome. The second week went a little better, in that it wasn't until the fourth day of the work week that I thought my body may have broken in my sleep. Luckily, this week is a short week (I am Utah bound tomorrow night), so I should be able to get through this week without the back pain that comes along with being mobile and productive in the mornings, specifically: sitting in a chair, clicking on a mouse and sifting through loan files that are three inches deep in paper.
B) I watched the Batman trilogy. Yup, you read that right. TRILOGY. (And it was about time, too!) I wasn't able to see The Dark Knight Rises when it first came out in the theaters, due to my inability to breathe like a normal person. I needed to wait for my respiratory system (and... uh... anxiety level) to course correct, so I could handle the theater experience. I am pleased to report that I did not have one single freakout during the entire movie (though my jaw did literally drop more than once, Kirk was with me and he can attest that this is truth). ... Of course, I still think The Dark Knight is the best of the three. (I can't help it. I freaking love that movie. - And no, I don't only love it because Bruce Wayne is a rich and pretty boy for the entirety of the second movie in the trilogy (read: no prison scenes), though that's certainly never going to hurt his cause.) Dark Knight Rises was good. I mean, it was epic, in the true sense of the "all encompassing, story coming full circle" definition of the word. But I prefer the stark dark v. light themes in Dark Knight. I love that Batman takes the fall for something he didn't do, because the city couldn't find out they'd had faith in the wrong man. I love that he can't let their faith be destroyed, because that would mean The Joker won. The Dark Knight is a thing of beauty to me, in that Bruce sacrifices everything for the good of the people and city that he loves. The "set the dogs on me" speech at the end of Dark Knight gives me the chills (and makes me cry). Every time. Without fail.
Ahhhhh... The Batman. What's not to love?! (Except, uh... maybe the prison scenes. As much as it pains me to say it, Christian Bale has some bizarre facial hair and it troubles me when he's not clean-shaven and pretty.)
And... uh, yeah. That's about it. Working four hours a day and watching Batman. That's all I do.
Now you're all caught up on what I've been doing since I was last able to write. I'll see what I can do to come up with something more lively and exciting in the next week or so... Wish me luck!
Sunday, August 19, 2012
August 19
I went to church today.
*Gulp.*
That's right, I am growing up, getting better and making an honest effort to re-enter the real world.
I went. I sat (in the back, by myself, keeping to my usual routine of sitting on the end of a row, and then blocking myself off by keeping an appropriately placed hymnal on the chair next to me so no one could get actually sit by me... leadership sort of hates that I isolate myself so, but I get claustrophobic in the middle of a pew and haaaaaaaate having people who I don't love like family sitting close enough to touch me). I smiled and waved (just call me Princess Di) at some friends in the congregation who had noticed I was there. I sang.
It was glorious. ... Until I started to get really tired and uncomfortable, about 30 minutes in. (Final decision made: I am out as soon as this meeting is over.)
And as soon as the meeting was over, I made a beeline for the door. Too bad a good ten women made a beeline for me at the exact same moment. I stood there with my arms up in a defensive motion, saying "No touching!". Too bad not everyone wanted to hear that and I had a couple sweet women come up from behind and glom onto me. Bless them. ... I so should have practiced talking like a prison guard more. I think maybe I need to say "NO TOUCHING" in all caps. Bother.
As it was, I got out of there with only three people having touched me, which I'm considering a colossal win.
Mind you, I still came home, clorox wiped the door knob where I'd touched it with my "church people" hands, lysoled the donation slips and envelopes I'd brought home with me and proceeded to wash my hands and face with anti-bacterial soap. Twice. ... Yes, I'm a little more OCD than usual right now. Before you judge me, just remember that I lost a spleen a couple months ago and have already seen evidence that my immune system isn't what it used to be. A girl can't be too careful. (And I happen to really, really enjoy the linen scented Lysol.)
After I'd deloused the place (by which I mean: doorknob), I ate a couple peaches (it's August... that's what I eat in August) and lied down on the couch. I was out like a light in under 30 minutes and slept for almost four hours.
I was able to go to church, see some friends, sing some songs, eat some peaches and take a nap today. I'm calling this Sunday a success!
*Gulp.*
That's right, I am growing up, getting better and making an honest effort to re-enter the real world.
I went. I sat (in the back, by myself, keeping to my usual routine of sitting on the end of a row, and then blocking myself off by keeping an appropriately placed hymnal on the chair next to me so no one could get actually sit by me... leadership sort of hates that I isolate myself so, but I get claustrophobic in the middle of a pew and haaaaaaaate having people who I don't love like family sitting close enough to touch me). I smiled and waved (just call me Princess Di) at some friends in the congregation who had noticed I was there. I sang.
It was glorious. ... Until I started to get really tired and uncomfortable, about 30 minutes in. (Final decision made: I am out as soon as this meeting is over.)
And as soon as the meeting was over, I made a beeline for the door. Too bad a good ten women made a beeline for me at the exact same moment. I stood there with my arms up in a defensive motion, saying "No touching!". Too bad not everyone wanted to hear that and I had a couple sweet women come up from behind and glom onto me. Bless them. ... I so should have practiced talking like a prison guard more. I think maybe I need to say "NO TOUCHING" in all caps. Bother.
As it was, I got out of there with only three people having touched me, which I'm considering a colossal win.
Mind you, I still came home, clorox wiped the door knob where I'd touched it with my "church people" hands, lysoled the donation slips and envelopes I'd brought home with me and proceeded to wash my hands and face with anti-bacterial soap. Twice. ... Yes, I'm a little more OCD than usual right now. Before you judge me, just remember that I lost a spleen a couple months ago and have already seen evidence that my immune system isn't what it used to be. A girl can't be too careful. (And I happen to really, really enjoy the linen scented Lysol.)
After I'd deloused the place (by which I mean: doorknob), I ate a couple peaches (it's August... that's what I eat in August) and lied down on the couch. I was out like a light in under 30 minutes and slept for almost four hours.
I was able to go to church, see some friends, sing some songs, eat some peaches and take a nap today. I'm calling this Sunday a success!
Friday, August 17, 2012
August 17
A few random thoughts I've had over the last week or so that I thought I would share with the www:
- With Dr. G having taken all the guts (and the fat) out of the left side of my body, I am now skinnier on one side than the other. (It's not obvious when I have clothes on; but when it's just me and the mirror, sometimes I have to laugh out loud.) And what with physical therapy focusing on my right arm, I realized the other night that, if I'm not careful, I'm going to end up looking like that freak in Lady in the Water. (You know, the one with a lopsided body.) So now I am lifting a can of beans with my left arm, too. I figure this way, my upper body will be the same on both sides, even if my waist isn't.
- It has occurred to me that it's very possible that Dr. H may have told me that he loves me, and even proposed, when he visited me in the hospital (twice!), and I was too drugged to respond appropriately. I should probably clarify, at my next appointment, that if this did, in fact, take place and I either continued sleeping (or worse, went off on one of my paranoid rants - pain/drug related post-surgery psychosis is no walk in the park, I tell you!), that he should say it/ask me again. I mean, just in case he's been feeling the part of a spurned lover/doctor, he should know that I wasn't in my right mind and that if he asked again, I'd say yes. (Jo agrees with me. I think she just wants him to come to Sunday dinner so she can talk to him about his homeland, but I'll take all the support I can get in my (I know, imaginary) relationship with Dr. H.)
- Cancer has taken over my brain. (Figuratively. Literally, it took over my retroperitoneum, my kidney, my spleen, part of my colon and part of my diaphragm. To my knowledge, my brain is cancer-free. It's just a little more warped that it used to be. ... And it was bad enough the way it was, thanks.) I went to the grocery store the other day and there was a ridiculously attractive bald man in the lane next to me. I looked at him. He looked back at me. And all I could think was "I wonder if it was chemo?". No "Hi... Hello... How YOU doin'?". Nope, I just stared at his beautiful bald head and wondered if he was a cancer patient. Ugh, Evans, get a grip. (I really should keep up on the flirting - or, at the very least, making polite conversation - until my plans for Nathan or Dr. H come to fruition. Honestly!)
And I've decided that's probably enough sharing of what goes on inside my head. For today, anyway. Be sure to check back tomorrow. By then, I could have very well had three (or more) very similar thoughts/experiences. ... I do what I can to keep it lively here at Cancer Girl Central.
- With Dr. G having taken all the guts (and the fat) out of the left side of my body, I am now skinnier on one side than the other. (It's not obvious when I have clothes on; but when it's just me and the mirror, sometimes I have to laugh out loud.) And what with physical therapy focusing on my right arm, I realized the other night that, if I'm not careful, I'm going to end up looking like that freak in Lady in the Water. (You know, the one with a lopsided body.) So now I am lifting a can of beans with my left arm, too. I figure this way, my upper body will be the same on both sides, even if my waist isn't.
- It has occurred to me that it's very possible that Dr. H may have told me that he loves me, and even proposed, when he visited me in the hospital (twice!), and I was too drugged to respond appropriately. I should probably clarify, at my next appointment, that if this did, in fact, take place and I either continued sleeping (or worse, went off on one of my paranoid rants - pain/drug related post-surgery psychosis is no walk in the park, I tell you!), that he should say it/ask me again. I mean, just in case he's been feeling the part of a spurned lover/doctor, he should know that I wasn't in my right mind and that if he asked again, I'd say yes. (Jo agrees with me. I think she just wants him to come to Sunday dinner so she can talk to him about his homeland, but I'll take all the support I can get in my (I know, imaginary) relationship with Dr. H.)
- Cancer has taken over my brain. (Figuratively. Literally, it took over my retroperitoneum, my kidney, my spleen, part of my colon and part of my diaphragm. To my knowledge, my brain is cancer-free. It's just a little more warped that it used to be. ... And it was bad enough the way it was, thanks.) I went to the grocery store the other day and there was a ridiculously attractive bald man in the lane next to me. I looked at him. He looked back at me. And all I could think was "I wonder if it was chemo?". No "Hi... Hello... How YOU doin'?". Nope, I just stared at his beautiful bald head and wondered if he was a cancer patient. Ugh, Evans, get a grip. (I really should keep up on the flirting - or, at the very least, making polite conversation - until my plans for Nathan or Dr. H come to fruition. Honestly!)
And I've decided that's probably enough sharing of what goes on inside my head. For today, anyway. Be sure to check back tomorrow. By then, I could have very well had three (or more) very similar thoughts/experiences. ... I do what I can to keep it lively here at Cancer Girl Central.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
August 16
My arm hurts. A lot. I will tell you why.
First things first, I went back to work this week and had to read (or... uh... scan and then promptly delete) about 1,000 emails. That's a lot of mouse clicking. I hadn't clicked a mouse in eight weeks, and it turns out that the repetitive motion of pressing down my index and/or middle finger for 2+ hours took a toll.
Another work related arm issue is the driving. My sad little arm twinges anytime that I need to turn my steering wheel, and I've gone from staying within a 3 mile radius of my house (to go to the grocery store, Chick-fil-A (I do love me some fried chicken!), and Jo's) to driving an hour or more in the round trip to work and back.
Oh, and the lifting and flipping of paper isn't helping shoulder any, either.
What I'm telling you is, my arm hurts. A lot. ... And differently than it used to.
I had my physical therapy appointment this afternoon, and it turns out that it's not just work that's making my shoulder hurt. Oh, no. It's not work. ... I mean, work (and the having to use my arm more than I have been) is a small part of what's going on, but beyond that, it seems that the swelling/post-surgery stress that's been keeping my arm stuck to my side for the last eight weeks has gone down. When I had the swelling, my shoulder couldn't move in the socket. There was a little glitch in the system, sort of a cartilage blockage that wouldn't allow the bone to move into the socket and make a full turn. ... Well, the swelling's gone down. And I've been developing and using my muscles, but I don't have full/tight muscle control. So, what I have happening now is that I can use my muscles to lift my arm, but I can't hold it up, because the bone goes into the socket, but can't stay there. It just slides right out and across the back. That's right. Bone on bone. Every time I lift my arm.
No wonder my arm hurts, right?!
Between the sore and over-worked muscles that I've been using to click on the mouse, turn my steering wheel and flip papers over vs. the bone-on-bone slippage when I force my arm over my head, my gimpy arm is gimpier than ever.
After some serious arm pulling, twisting and a deep tissue massage this afternoon by said physical therapist, I am semi-lame. The good news? She was able to work most of the clicks and gristle out of my arm with all of her pulling, pushing and twisting, and she taught me some new tricks that I can use to pull and hold my arm where it needs to go so I can get better.
I so love physical therapy, btw! (Have I mentioned that? I can't remember.) I so enjoy the therapist. She's incredibly friendly and easy going, and she gives me all kinds of information about what's going on with my body (and why). She's teaching me how to leverage my body against itself, so I can help it heal. (It is fascinating to me, how with a very simple set of tools - soup cans (as weights) and pillows (to adjust height/support) - I can strengthen both my gimpy arm and my currently non-existent core.) I love that I get a full hour of hands-on therapy. I love that she takes the time to teach me things, and can answer every question I've thrown at her about how bodies work. I love that she gives me suggestions of what I could/should be eating, so my digestive system can get used to its new life. I love that she talks to other doctors in the facility about me, so she can get the best idea of how she can best help me with my colon issues. She is super fantastic, and she has helped me so much - even (or esp) on the days that she makes me hurt.
And speaking of the hurting, my body is shooting warning signals at me that it is done with the typing for today. So, I shall stop with the typing. I think that I'll go for a walk, and then come home and lie on my left side (not my right) and watch some Leverage while I wait for my arm to return to its former glory. Or, you know, until I fall asleep. Whichever comes first.
First things first, I went back to work this week and had to read (or... uh... scan and then promptly delete) about 1,000 emails. That's a lot of mouse clicking. I hadn't clicked a mouse in eight weeks, and it turns out that the repetitive motion of pressing down my index and/or middle finger for 2+ hours took a toll.
Another work related arm issue is the driving. My sad little arm twinges anytime that I need to turn my steering wheel, and I've gone from staying within a 3 mile radius of my house (to go to the grocery store, Chick-fil-A (I do love me some fried chicken!), and Jo's) to driving an hour or more in the round trip to work and back.
Oh, and the lifting and flipping of paper isn't helping shoulder any, either.
What I'm telling you is, my arm hurts. A lot. ... And differently than it used to.
I had my physical therapy appointment this afternoon, and it turns out that it's not just work that's making my shoulder hurt. Oh, no. It's not work. ... I mean, work (and the having to use my arm more than I have been) is a small part of what's going on, but beyond that, it seems that the swelling/post-surgery stress that's been keeping my arm stuck to my side for the last eight weeks has gone down. When I had the swelling, my shoulder couldn't move in the socket. There was a little glitch in the system, sort of a cartilage blockage that wouldn't allow the bone to move into the socket and make a full turn. ... Well, the swelling's gone down. And I've been developing and using my muscles, but I don't have full/tight muscle control. So, what I have happening now is that I can use my muscles to lift my arm, but I can't hold it up, because the bone goes into the socket, but can't stay there. It just slides right out and across the back. That's right. Bone on bone. Every time I lift my arm.
No wonder my arm hurts, right?!
Between the sore and over-worked muscles that I've been using to click on the mouse, turn my steering wheel and flip papers over vs. the bone-on-bone slippage when I force my arm over my head, my gimpy arm is gimpier than ever.
After some serious arm pulling, twisting and a deep tissue massage this afternoon by said physical therapist, I am semi-lame. The good news? She was able to work most of the clicks and gristle out of my arm with all of her pulling, pushing and twisting, and she taught me some new tricks that I can use to pull and hold my arm where it needs to go so I can get better.
I so love physical therapy, btw! (Have I mentioned that? I can't remember.) I so enjoy the therapist. She's incredibly friendly and easy going, and she gives me all kinds of information about what's going on with my body (and why). She's teaching me how to leverage my body against itself, so I can help it heal. (It is fascinating to me, how with a very simple set of tools - soup cans (as weights) and pillows (to adjust height/support) - I can strengthen both my gimpy arm and my currently non-existent core.) I love that I get a full hour of hands-on therapy. I love that she takes the time to teach me things, and can answer every question I've thrown at her about how bodies work. I love that she gives me suggestions of what I could/should be eating, so my digestive system can get used to its new life. I love that she talks to other doctors in the facility about me, so she can get the best idea of how she can best help me with my colon issues. She is super fantastic, and she has helped me so much - even (or esp) on the days that she makes me hurt.
And speaking of the hurting, my body is shooting warning signals at me that it is done with the typing for today. So, I shall stop with the typing. I think that I'll go for a walk, and then come home and lie on my left side (not my right) and watch some Leverage while I wait for my arm to return to its former glory. Or, you know, until I fall asleep. Whichever comes first.
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
August 14
Today was a good day. It started with a morning walk at 6:00, during which I got to watch the sun rise. It ended with an evening walk at 7:00, during which I got to watch the sun set. (I'd like to report that I set a new personal best in time, btw. I walked a mile in 28 minutes today. ... I know that this sounds less than impressive to most of you, but I haven't been able to do that walk in under 30 minutes for over two months, so this is progress.)
Also, I went back to work today. And... (drumroll, please) it didn't kill me. It made me a little more achy, a bit more sore, and a lot more tired than sitting at home and reading has been making me, but it didn't kill me. I did really well, sitting in my chair, reading my emails and putting a loan file together, until about 11:30. That's an hour or two earlier than I usually want (read: need) to lie down, but considering that I woke up at 5:30 this morning instead of my I'm-not-working 7:00, and then went to work and did more, physically, than I have in eight weeks, I'm considering it a win. I had to pick up a prescription at the WalMart after work, and then I came home and crashed. Literally. I fell asleep on my couch, watching TV, and slept the afternoon away. ... Something I haven't been able to do since July 25th. (Yes, I keep track of that sort of thing.)
It appears that the upside of getting up early, taking a shower, putting real clothes on and going to work, sitting in a desk chair and being hunched over a loan file is that it yields the result of nap time returning to my daily life. This is a blessed relief. I think I'll go back tomorrow.
*And for any of you who may be having a freakout that I'm back at work already (a surprising number of people think that this summer has gone by really quickly and it's not possibly time that I could/should be back at work), let me put your minds at ease and say... I am back at work, but with modified hours. I'll have six weeks to ease back into my full time schedule. I'm working 4 hours a day for the first four weeks, 5 hours a day in the fifth week and 6 hours a day in week six. I'll go back full time the last week of September. (Prior to surgery, I'd talked to my doctors about how long I'd need to be out both full and part time. We'd talked about 6-8 weeks full time (and I needed all 8 weeks, because let me tell you... I was still walking with the walker in week 6 and didn't drive until week 7. I can't imagine how hard this day would have been a week or two ago) and 4-6 weeks part time after surgery. The graduated hours were a suggestion from my physical therapist,. I've had between 5-8 weeks part time after my prior surgeries, but I've always gone from half to full days at the end of the part time period, and it's been brutal. I'm quite sure that the gradual return will make the adjustment monumentally easier.)
As I said earlier, this has been a good day. I was able to spend time in nature, at my two favorite times of the day, no less. I was able to see my friends and co-workers, whom I love. I was able to re-enter my "normal" life, even if it was just for a few hours. I got to take a nap, after which I ate a ginormous bowl of watermelon for dinner.
Today has been a really good day. Really, really good. Here's hoping for another one of those tomorrow, nap and all!
Also, I went back to work today. And... (drumroll, please) it didn't kill me. It made me a little more achy, a bit more sore, and a lot more tired than sitting at home and reading has been making me, but it didn't kill me. I did really well, sitting in my chair, reading my emails and putting a loan file together, until about 11:30. That's an hour or two earlier than I usually want (read: need) to lie down, but considering that I woke up at 5:30 this morning instead of my I'm-not-working 7:00, and then went to work and did more, physically, than I have in eight weeks, I'm considering it a win. I had to pick up a prescription at the WalMart after work, and then I came home and crashed. Literally. I fell asleep on my couch, watching TV, and slept the afternoon away. ... Something I haven't been able to do since July 25th. (Yes, I keep track of that sort of thing.)
It appears that the upside of getting up early, taking a shower, putting real clothes on and going to work, sitting in a desk chair and being hunched over a loan file is that it yields the result of nap time returning to my daily life. This is a blessed relief. I think I'll go back tomorrow.
*And for any of you who may be having a freakout that I'm back at work already (a surprising number of people think that this summer has gone by really quickly and it's not possibly time that I could/should be back at work), let me put your minds at ease and say... I am back at work, but with modified hours. I'll have six weeks to ease back into my full time schedule. I'm working 4 hours a day for the first four weeks, 5 hours a day in the fifth week and 6 hours a day in week six. I'll go back full time the last week of September. (Prior to surgery, I'd talked to my doctors about how long I'd need to be out both full and part time. We'd talked about 6-8 weeks full time (and I needed all 8 weeks, because let me tell you... I was still walking with the walker in week 6 and didn't drive until week 7. I can't imagine how hard this day would have been a week or two ago) and 4-6 weeks part time after surgery. The graduated hours were a suggestion from my physical therapist,. I've had between 5-8 weeks part time after my prior surgeries, but I've always gone from half to full days at the end of the part time period, and it's been brutal. I'm quite sure that the gradual return will make the adjustment monumentally easier.)
As I said earlier, this has been a good day. I was able to spend time in nature, at my two favorite times of the day, no less. I was able to see my friends and co-workers, whom I love. I was able to re-enter my "normal" life, even if it was just for a few hours. I got to take a nap, after which I ate a ginormous bowl of watermelon for dinner.
Today has been a really good day. Really, really good. Here's hoping for another one of those tomorrow, nap and all!
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