Deep thoughts…

Deep thoughts…

I’ve been doing a lot of deep thinking, lately…

pondering,

cogitating,

ruminating,

evaluating,

perhaps even brooding. Definitely brooding.

I’m just not at a point where I can talk about it all. It’s just so much…

So much what does this cancer diagnosis mean to the rest of my life? to what extent will I let it define me? what do I want to do when I grow up? will it have something to do with cancer? should I change my major? what is the meaning of life, the universe, and everything? does it even matter? where are my shoes? how will we pay rent? did I take my pills this morning, or was that yesterday? who am I? who are you? will Lizzie and Mr. Darcy ever work things out?

In spite of all of that, I still have this…

Gem on a swing - CoffeeJitters.Net

the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is such a small thing compared to the beauty of my little girl in a swing. Pondering can wait; it’s time to play.

 

 

Wait. What?

Wait. What?

I think there should be some kind of trophy, or medal, or certificate of achievement, something anyway to mark the completion of cancer treatment. I understand why it’s not done, but nonetheless it seems like all this hard work and endurance should reach some point of crescendo, a climax, a triumphant overcoming of the evil beast rather than just sputtering out at the end with a casual “have a nice life.”

wait.what

I have Herceptin infusions scheduled every three weeks for several months. One of those appointments was today. Today was a rough day; one of those days where everything seems a little more complicated than it should be. Keys are lost, things forgotten, I trip over my own feet, and I’m just doing good to remember where I am, and where I’m going. But I did manage to make it to the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance on time to have my port tapped for the blood draw.

After the blood draw we had the standard 2 hour wait till the doctor appointment, followed by my Herceptin infusion. Or so I thought. A long boring wait only to find out when we checked in that we missed the appointment; it was scheduled for an hour earlier. It took several phone calls and discussions between staff members, but they were able to squeeze me, and my now slightly elevated  blood-pressure in.

Right off the bat, my doctor asked me if I want to have another baby. “I can refer you to our fertility specialist, if you would like.” Wait. What?

That was the farthest thing from my brain at the moment. I’d love for Gem to have a sibling, but I’ve been so focused on beating cancer, and moving mom out of her apartment, and the trip to Alaska, and then moving us out of our apartment that thoughts of baby-making, aside from the semi-regular baby-making practice, have not been on the agenda. I really thought this appointment would be more about the wheezing and extreme heaviness in my chest I have been experiencing since we moved into our new apartment.

Which I told her. So she listened to my lungs and wrote an order for a chest x-ray to make sure the cancer had not spread.

Then she proceeded to tell me that today would be my last treatment.

Wait. What?

I’ve got months of treatment left. Besides, if this was my last treatment, I would have baked brownies for everyone and scheduled a party or something. I love my doctor, I love my nurses – I want to celebrate and thank them. She looked back at the chart, checked again, yup, today would be my last treatment. I’m done. We’ll just cancel the extra appointments.

Then I was whisked off to infusion for the treatment, which was pushed through faster than usual so I could run down to radiology and get the xray in quick before they closed for the day. While all this was happening, the baby blew out her diaper, so my still-fearful-of-poopie-even-though-he’s-been-a-father-for-two-years husband had to deal with a very cranky toddler with more poop than her diaper could handle and not enough wet wipes on the planet while I proceeded to lose my cell phone running between appointments.

We finally got everyone back together and mostly cleaned up and in the car stuck smack dab in the middle of Seattle 5pm downtown gridlock when I discovered the missing phone. The phone they were going to call with the results of the scan.

Finally, we’re home. We have the phone, which no one has called. It’s 8 pm and no results yet. No news is good news, right?

So, either I’m done with cancer treatment- or I’m not, and in a very bad way.

I feel like I should be celebrating right now, but I’m more stunned than anything.

UPDATE: results are in – XRAY IS CLEAR! I’m done with treatment!

I’m ready for my trophy now.

You can learn more about my cancer story here:

my cancer story | Judy Schwartz Haley

 

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Get Your Ducks In A Row

Get Your Ducks In A Row

Every single one of my New Years Resolutions have already been derailed, in the first six weeks of the year.

Get your ducks in a row

My resolutions weren’t anything revolutionary or out of the ordinary. Not even all that difficult really, with the exception of that 33 grams of fat thing (multiple sources recommending this as a means of preventing a cancer re-run). That one is REALLY difficult.

  1. Exercise daily
  2. Become skilled at yoga
  3. Keep daily fat intake under 33 grams per day
  4. Eat 7-9 servings of vegetables per day
  5. Take at least one picture every day
  6. Get my house organized, and keep it looking nice

So what’s going on? Why can’t I stay on track with these relatively simple and straightforward changes? Well, aside from the fact that I’m a full time student, and I have a toddler that climbs on me like a monkey all her waking hours, and I’m still recovering from 2nd degree radiation burns over half my torso, I’ve had a few writing gigs lately as well as some other opportunities to learn and gain experience doing exactly what I want to do for a living. Mama’s been a little busy. Maybe, for starters, I over-committed myself. Maybe I need to give myself a break.

So what to cut? Most of the items on the list above are recommended to prevent a recurrence; the house, well that just needs to get done. Obviously I can drop the picture a day idea, but that leaves 5 things – major changes for a 15-hours-a-day-on-the-computer-while-eating-junk-food type of girl like me. Bear in mind that the vast majority of the computer time is spent on school.

I read a wonderful article a few weeks ago about creating sustainable change in our everyday lives. I really wish I could remember where I read it; I would give the author some link love here. The article stated that in order to make a real and lasting change, we need to make one change at a time, make it really stick, before adding the next change. Over the course of the year, devoting 6 weeks or more to each individual change, we can create sustainable change in several areas with a much higher degree of success than the “I’m going to change everything all at once” approach.

Change is not something you do once and then get on with your life. It takes practice. You fall down and then you get back up again. Over and over and over and over again.

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to decide to make a change, but I’m not going to change everything at once. I’m starting with the eating 7-9 servings of vegetables per day, and if I don’t hit my goal one day, I’ll keep trying the next day. Once I’ve built a practice of eating vegetables, I’ll add working out every day. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to exercise between now and when I start working on that resolution, it just means that the focus on habit building for that particular change will be delayed.

I’m still a bit overwhelmed by the amount of kitchen time eating that many vegetables will take. I’m now accepting applications for volunteer prep cooks if you’re interested in chopping vegetables.

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Wordish Wednesday

Fear

Fear

I just joined an online challenge called 21*5*800 hosted by Bindu Wiles. 21 days. 5 days of yoga per week. 800 words per day.

I am so excited about this challenge.

The group is actually on day 4 of the challenge and I just got started. I’m just going to start where the group is, then add a few extra days at the end, probably just picking up the prompts I dropped from the first few days.

I’ve already decided that I while I intend to write my 800 words every day, I probably won’t share all of it, although I may share a portion. I want to get into a daily writing, and yoga, practice. I want to be able to be honest in my writing, and I have learned that I have to be much too careful about what I publish in this format. That said, today’s topic is relevant: Fear.

Fear

Fear has become a big part of my life since my breast cancer diagnosis. Fear of death? Certainly. Fear of pain? Oh, yes. Fear of being a burden on my family? Absolutely. Fear of the effects of my cancer on my one year old daughter? Terrifying.

I have found that the yoga helps. I’ve learned to breathe through the movements: the tough stretches, holding a challenging pose. That practice transfers to the uncomfortable and painful procedures. A deep breath and long slow exhale as I endure the poking and prodding makes all the difference. The pain is still there, but it is a bit more manageable. Focusing on my breath takes my focus away from the pain.

Fear takes me out of the present and puts me into the future – a future that is unknowable, yet my imagination tries it’s best to find every worst case scenario. Pain forces me into right now – so does my yoga practice. When I’m in now, what might happen doesn’t matter. Every moment has an infinity of possible outcomes.

When I’m seized by anxiety or panic, the yogic breathing can settle me down. Cleansing breath: long, slow exhale opens up more space in the lungs for a deeper, fuller inhale. Raise the arms to expand the chest, then slowly lower them as I exhale. Before I know it, I’m focusing more on how my body feels and improving this critical function. The fear is still there, but it is a bit more manageable. Focusing on my breath takes my focus away from the fear.

That’s not to say that fear is unwarranted. I have an aggressive form of breast cancer that has spread to the lymph nodes, complicated by another rare form of cancer that has a pretty grim prognosis. This is not something I can ignore or wish away. I also cannot focus only on the present. I am submitting myself to these procedures and chemotherapy, sacrificing my comfort and well being in the present, because I fear what will happen if I don’t, and in hope of improving my well being in the future.

Fear and Hope.

What I need is balance.

That takes me back to yoga.

bird-3

You can learn more about my cancer story here:

my cancer story | Judy Schwartz Haley

 

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Dear Gem – Month 13

Dear Gem – Month 13

Today is Mother’s Day (or at least it was when I started writing this letter), the perfect day for me to tell you how much I love being your Mother.

I got the best Mother’s Day gift ever on Friday; after a month of not being able to lift or carry you because of the surgery, the doctor finally gave me permission to start using my arm, which means I can take care of you all by myself again. It is so nice to finally be able to hold you, and take care of you by myself!

But we did find ways to snuggle this past month. I spent a lot of time sitting on the floor so you could come up and hug me whenever you wanted. It amazes me how you seemed to instinctively understand that you needed to be gentle with me. You are so perceptive, and very, very sweet. You even say “awwwww…” and pat my shoulder as you hug me. It’s the cutest thing.

Several friends came and helped around the house. and helped me keep an eye on you each day while Daddy was at school. I’m so thankful for their help. You enjoyed the company (audience), and it eased my mind to know that they were available to lift you to the high chair, or changing table, or into your crib – and to get you out of trouble as well – you have entered a climbing phase. At least I hope it’s a phase, but I suspect you are just going to become progressively more adventurous. And truthfully, that’s one of the things I love most about you – your sense of adventure – even when you give me a little heart attack while you’re perched on the edge of a piece of furniture.

gem

One of your favorite words is “THIS.” You walk around the house, or even stores when we go out, and hold up random objects proclaiming, proudly and emphatically, “THIS!” After a few weeks of “this,” I nearly fell out of my chair laughing, but proud, when you pointed at something and said “THAT!”

gem

Most of the time when I look at you I see a beautiful little girl, but every once in a while, I see the baby you used to be. The way you hold your feet in the air while you’re laying on your back, or the way you cuddle with me both can take me back to several months ago. I miss that baby, but I am so proud of the little girl that you are becoming. You are so smart, you have an amazing attention span, you are perceptive, and gentle, and sweet, and loving, and friendly. These are all qualities that will serve you well as you get older. I can’t wait to watch you as you develop from a little girl into a young woman. But for today, it’s those snuggles that I enjoy the most.

I love you so much.

Mommy

 

Read more Letters to Gem.