Bear with me, because in the past five days I’ve probably
had 5 to 7 blog entries running through my brain, trying to escape, and I try
to hold them. It’s like … oh wait …
okay, now I’m typing with a puffy band-aid on my middle finger after the little
blood draw (they just check my white blood count to make sure I’m healthy
enough for chemo). Where was I? Oh. It’s
like I’m trying to keep track of my little Elmo friend in a playground.
Now I’m waiting for Loreli.
What do you think, up or down?
Eek, scary waiting! I’ll keep the
computer lid open when she tells me and record the number immediately. I don’t like being alone to get the tumor
marker result, but it’s unavoidable today.
I’ll explain later.
Tumor markers! From
47.5 last month to 42 today. Great news,
especially considering I was sure they’d go the other way with all the stress I’ve
been experiencing! And now Loreli knows
she’s in my blog. I didn’t even see Dr.
Fox today, not sure if he’s here.
These are the musings I need to share:
·
Gratitude
·
Blessings
·
Drama
·
Household management
·
Faith
On Gratitude
Isn’t that a Thoreau title?
Well, this entry needs a powerful title, because it’s the most important
of what I have to say.
This is my life: I
get cancer. People bring food, give me
hugs, make me feel better. Barb calls a
meeting and starts Team Michelle to make sure I get what I need. Barb organizes a group of people to come
clean my house. My mom, Jill, and Ken
take me to chemo.
Ken loses his job. Libby and Charlie (my dad and his wife) fly me
and Jonah to Florida so I can calm down and get a grip. Libby arranges a meeting with a
recruiter. She, Charlie, and Barb organize
a fundraising campaign for me because I’m worried sick about health insurance. In the first week people donate thousands of
dollars and the number continues to grow.
During the band parents’ preview day, Allison rushes out and
crashes the car (she doesn’t have a scratch on her). The parents step up, make sure my boys get
home safely, and bring us all the leftover food.
I have a choice. I
could dwell on the cancer, the financial worries, my daughter’s bad
driving. Or I can look at the sentences
that follow. People bring food, get me
what I need. Donate money for health care,
make sure my boys are safe.
Look at what people do, look at what so many of you have
done. In so many ways, as I sit in this
suite with Abraxane flowing into my veins, I know it’s not so much what’s in
this prestigious building that is saving my life. It’s what’s in your hearts.
And so even though life is completely unstable at this time,
and something is going to happen next because something always happens next, I’m
smiling. I’m so thankful for what you
have done and what you continue to do. I’m
not a special person. I’m a mom, a wife,
a person who hoped to be a teacher. I’m
suburban, and I stand there chatting in the market even though my kids want to
go home. I have a minivan with a
marching band magnet and an elementary school magnet. I’m clumsy and easily distracted. I don’t like to cook and I’m a fussy
eater. And I’m deserving of all I’ve
received because you deem it so. What I’ve
done well is to choose to be among the greatest community.
I wanted to write individual thank you notes. I gathered my favorite pen and a bunch of
cards and envelopes, and settled in to work.
And then I realized how many people show up as anonymous on the donation
list. And then I saw that there are
people I don’t know, so how would I send thank you notes to them? Finally, people who’ve given other than
financially also deserve to be thanked.
Most of my world should be thanked.
I appreciate it all! Thank you,
then, for meaning the world.
Blessings
Last week I counted my blessings and found that I had three
just for the week. Then I realized it
was 4. It was an extremely busy week
with days spent running from school to doctors to baseball to back to school
night, and more. (Signing off from the
chemo suite, will continue at home.) I’m
home and I took off the puffy band-aid and the hospital bracelet … In the midst
of the rushing and driving and waiting, I experienced moments I hope to never
forget.
The first blessing was a phone call from my friend’s
husband. He’s an attorney, specializing
in social security disability, and he called in the middle of the day to give
me advice. Thanks to him I knew exactly
how to fill out the forms I needed, and what to write. He knows me through his wife and neighbors,
and he went out of his way to offer his time and expertise. It was so sweet of him.
The second was an email from someone who was an
acquaintance, whom I haven’t seen in years.
He sent me probably the nicest email I’ve ever received and asked to be
my friend. It was so sweet, it made me
tear up. It reminded me of my friend/Ken’s
cousin Rich, who often makes me feel the same way. To just go out of the way like that and be so
sincere.
The third happened at the Friday night Lenape football
game. I’d been at Jonah’s baseball game
and hadn’t had time to change my clothes, or even remember that I might want to
change. So I was wearing my least
favorite scarf. I’d forgotten that all
of last year’s 8th graders now go to Lenape until the minute I
walked into the stadium and started seeing friends. They’d never seen me without hair before, but
they still called greetings to me. I
covered study hall for 5 weeks in the spring, and three boys were especially
memorable. They were goofballs, and I
had to write up one of them a few times, but they always made me laugh. At the game on Friday two of the boys were
together, and they ran down from the stands to give me a hug.
I don’t want to write the last blessing, because I think the
person who provided it would be bashful about my repeating it. Suffice to say it was an unexpected
compliment from an unexpected source, and it was so sweet.
The truth is that I have blessings all the time. Maybe I didn’t notice them before as much as
I should’ve, or maybe I’m just more powerfully blessed now. At any rate, it makes life so much sweeter to
be blessed.
Drama
Soap operas were so fun and unrealistic. Who has so much drama? Lately, it seems, I do. I’m not a person who lives for drama. Not at all.
I far prefer stability, and I’d love to be boring. Don’t get me wrong, I’d still talk and talk,
but it would be mundane. “Oh, yes, well
Allison only likes Skippy creamy peanut butter.” “Rudy liked to wander the neighborhood, but
Molly is content to stay home.” Stuff
like that.
Drama gives me a hard little knot that sits in my chest and
occasionally bursts into flame. It makes
my head feel like it’s spinning while my ears try to stop it. It causes a knife to twist in my liver. Every time I have a new drama I react the
same way. I flush, and then I shut down
for a moment. I need to sit and process
it. And then I have at least one
soaking, Spongebob worthy cry. Even if the
drama is short-lived, like the worry with my mom when she almost died during
her surgery, the effects linger. For at
least a week after that bad day, I walked around feeling a bit shell-shocked. Even after my mom was home and nervously
watching me clean her kitchen, I still had that feeling. Now that I’m writing out my feelings I wonder
if I’ll stop having the same reactions.
I don’t want the drama.
I want to have a job, and for Ken to have a job. I want to drive the same commute every day,
and do the same type of work. I want Ken
to like his job and come home in a good mood.
I want the kids to go to school, come home, do homework, participate in
activities and go out with friends. I
want to annoy the kids by talking too long to friends I run into in the
supermarket. I want to gossip about
people with drama. Or watch a soap
opera.
Household Management
Household management?
Really? What on earth did I want
to say about that? I change my mind.
Faith
How could I not write about faith on Rosh Hashanah, with the
musical prayers from this morning’s service on an endless loop in my
brain. I think it’s natural for people
in my position to ponder faith. Many
people rely on faith to help them get through the bad days, to help them
believe better days are ahead. Some
people turn their backs on their faith, bitterly blaming a deity for robbing
them of what they deserved. I don’t
think of faith like that. I don’t rely
on it or blame it, I just have it.
For the second year in a row, I’ve accidentally brought home
the High Holy Day prayer book. Last year
I returned it immediately, but I think this time it will remain in my safe
keeping until Yom Kippur. This is the
kind of faith I have (quoting the book):
I have faith that the stars will keep twinkling, that people
will largely wake up in the morning and go to sleep at night, that love keeps
us whole, that the conservatives are wasting their breath trying to sway the
liberals and vice versa. I have faith
that people change and grow by generation, and that new digital devices will
wow us in years to come, even without the magic of Steve Jobs.
I was thinking more about faith and hadn’t gotten to my
point, but honestly this is way too much reflecting for one day. I promise I won’t ever let my blog get to
this point again. I’ll keep up better.
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