Category Archives: heartbreak

What We Don’t Say….

I was a Psych major in college. Have I told you that before? Doesn’t matter…anyway, I actually switched majors from Pharmacology to Psych because I wanted to understand the human mind. All I learned is I’d make a terrible counselor. And birth order.

My point is I chose to study psychology because I knew what it felt like to be so depressed you just wanted to die. And I understood what it felt like to have a full blown panic attack in the ER. As in an ABG (arterial blood gas) being drawn mid panic attack and showing that my O2 and CO2 levels were reversed.

I went through some serious depression and (now I know it was) PTSD after a major medical crisis in 2001. I lost a child and almost died from sepsis. The I went home and slept with the lights on for 6 months and had nightmares for close to 2 years.

But none of this is talked about much. I don’t say I still have nightmares. I don’t talk about how close to suicidal I am if they suddenly cut off my meds. I don’t talk about loneliness or abandonment issues. I don’t say anything about the reason I have so many tattoos on my forearms.

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Everyone I know feels a little broken sometimes. How many people do you know that feel self-doubt? Or fear or not being good enough? Have you ever cried yourself to sleep? Is anyone else telling you it would be okay if you did?

One of my favorite people shows it better than I can….check out Swoop. ❤

There are a lot of things we don’t say. But you’re not alone. And it’s okay if you’re not okay right now.

4 Years

Four years ago, within 30 days…
We signed the contract to have my house built, my dog died, and I was diagnosed with what ended up being an inoperable brain tumor.

I’m now sitting in the house I designed and we have just painted the downstairs bathroom, put new curtains up in the office, and gotten new (to us) living room furniture! Three years into living in said house, we’ve been slowly working our way through painting rooms, and fixing up stuff that we’ve shlepped around from duty station to duty station. This summer we’re planning on painting my daughter’s room and the spare room, and painting her desk as we move some of the furniture around upstairs.

My puppers is on my mantle in her pretty little oak urn with her collar around it, and someday we’ll plant her ashes into a tree in the yard.

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And my tumor is still there, still inoperable, and still the same size and shape. It’s still a journey, but I am mostly stable.


I wrote this a couple of weeks ago, then set it aside for the Great-FreakTHEEFFOUTTTTT of 2018 when my pharmacy miscounted my long acting pain meds and I freaked the FUCK out because I had visions of the pharmacy to tell me to figure it out, my pain docs to tell me to keep better track of my scripts, and no pain meds = no Xun. It wasn’t a  great 12 hours and I realized how close I am to the line of not deciding to live in chronic pain.

It was solved quickly and relatively easily….moving on….

I’ve been thinking about how much I blog. It’s not as often right now. I started a blog back in 2009ish? It’s gone through some changes and at least one major move from one platform to another. The last four years have focused more on the tumor near my brain stem. It’s ….. stable? Mostly. The tumor is the same size and shape as far as we know. But the effects of said tumor have progressed. I have dysphasia, confirmed via swallow study. (kind of a weird thing to go through) Aphasia when I completely lose words in the middle of sentences. Those may be connected to absence seizures. But I find I forget names of things, people, places….it’s easily the most frustrating thing about my current existence. (I spend a lot of time muttering to myself “I’m a frickin *writer*, I NEED words!!”)

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I’m rambling but basically it’s just thoughts about where I’m at right now. I’m medically stable. No more turning my life upside down and moving every year. No more waiting for orders or duty stations. I don’t fight with…well, anybody anymore. There’s just not the fight in me.

Right now, my life is my kid’s school and theatre group keeping me busy, and now that she’s on summer break, I’m just juggling house, kitties, her activities, and my mother coming for 10 days. My doctor appointments pick back up next month. I had a nerve study done of my left arm because I was having pain in my ulnar nerve and numb spots on the back on my hand, my index finger, and my thumb. In the ENS they tested motor nerves and there’s something going on in my forearm, so I asked them to send the report to my neurologist and I see her again July 30th.

Right now, my life is fairly stable. June 23rd was the 6th anniversary of my Dad’s passing.

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My kid keeps me busy. I probably don’t blog more often because I don’t think I’m very exciting right now.

But I did have a really vivid dream the other night that I’m thinking about writing about. It made me miss someone…..but it would be a great movie…

 

Very Overdue Updates

I have literally been meaning to write an update for over 2 weeks, and then I got a comment giving me the “hey, you good? you needa post” and I realized how unbelievably overdue I have been for blogging. I’ve been working on a post in my head for the last 10 days (ish), but it seems I don’t have Jarvis to translate that noise into an actual post. Who knew?!

So….um, where to start? My last post was me losing my ish over a school shooting here in our little rural we-have-Amish-buggies-sharing-our-roads and it brought everything up close and in my face.

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ABC News

 

That was immediately followed by the National Marches…

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friends & loved ones are in there….somewhere

…and a lot of noise and conflict across the country. I know people on both sides of the debate and having spent the last 4 years or so teaching my kid American History I understand the need for debating this issue. But then…

Just 3 weeks after the March for Our Lives (March 24, 2018) an 8 YEAR OLD was arrested for bring a loaded handgun to school on April 18, 2018. IN MY COUNTY. In my little corner of rural small-town America. And I lost my shit.

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THREE gun events in our little county. In. ONE. School. Year. so far.

That is not okay. I am not okay.
The first one: two students being arrested for threatening to shoot up the school MY kid goes to just 2 days after the Parkland shooting. They were heard and reported and it was stopped, but how terrifying is that?!
The second one: The shooting at Great Hills High School. That affected us up close. There’s only three high schools in our county. 1400+ kids were evacuated from GMHS to LHS for reunification. Jaelynn Willey’s loss affected us all. We’re a small community and the shooting was an unimaginable shock.

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I walked out of a meeting at my kid’s school and saw this on the wall. It took my breath away. 

The third one: an 8-year-old being arrested for bringing a loaded handgun to school. A third grader. Both parents are active-duty military. A girl on his bus saw it and reported it.

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The kids are being told over and over and over again “See something, say something” and they did and it stopped two tragedies this school year. But it is breaking my heart. We’re scared. We’re frustrated. This is insane.

February 16, 2018
March 20, 2018 (Jaelynn was taken off life support on 3/22/18)
April 18, 2018

These are the dates that affect us right here in my town. This is a nation-wide debate but right now it’s up close and in my face and I can’t breathe and I don’t know what to do.

In the last month I’ve also had a lot of really awesome stuff keeping me busy and I’m going to write up a part two to the updates and try to get that published tomorrow. But it’s been busy and crazy and hard stuff is in my face and this hurts and whattheHELL?!!!

Yes, there’s lots of good things and experiences I’m going to share. Yes, we have been lucky and my child is safe but I’m processing.

More updates being written and I promise they’re the good stuff!
❤ ~ X

 

Stress & Other Drugs

I get really quiet when I’m going through something. Usually when my physical pain is climbing or my stress levels are raised…..or life starts kicking back, I’ll write less. I don’t even journal as much as I know I should. Writing creates a pathway for me to find my way through the pain…..well, most of the time. I know I should write more, but I guess it’s a defense mechanism not to. But the positive side is when I do start writing again, I know I’m finding my way back.

The last week in particular has been pretty stressful. My SO is on some crazy business trip to somewhere to do something. The details are fuzzy and the leaving was mostly just 24 hours of whattheactualfuck, and then he was on a plane. I have a pretty general idea of where he is and when he could return, but in the interim, I’m dealing with all of….well, this…..by myself.

The Parkland shooting happened on February 14 (as most of us know). What you may not know is that by February 16, we saw two boys arrested for threatening to shoot up my daughter’s school. On the heel of these incidents I saw my daughter, her friends, and my friend’s daughters say things like “I’m wearing my running shoes today (instead of my cute shoes) in case we have a shooting” ; “Mom, remember what I’m wearing today in case my head get blown off”; “If I hear shots I can jump out that window and run away from school property”. Yes, I heard these all said. No, they weren’t trying to be funny or smartasses. Or waaaayyy too irreverent. This is their reality. They’re scared. And now they’ve had enough. On March 14, my daughter wanted permission to participate in the walkout. Of course I said yes. They’re standing up, and speaking out. They deserve to be seen and heard.

SIX DAYS later, on March 20 there was a shooting at Great Mills High School. Every school in the county was immediately locked down, and the GMHS students were transported to LHS (my daughter’s school) to be reunified with their families. The shooting was just before 8 am, at the “other” high school, but everything about that day went sideways. LHS was safely on lockdown, but classes were moved around and schedules changed to accomodate for the 1400+ students coming to this school.

Kids from LHS were signed out by their families so they could wait with their parents for family and friends that would be coming from GMHS. It was a little busy, but it was handled with amazing ability and compassion from all of the teachers and staff, the students, and the first responders. Somehow, we made it through that day.

The next day Winter Storm Toby hit the East Coast, and my kid and I hung out at home and watched several inches of snow fall. It felt like the universe gave us a minute to breathe.

By Thursday, school started back up for LHS (Great Mills will be back April 2, after Spring Break). And on Friday I got up at 4 am to drive my kids over to meet her school’s tour bus for the Theatre Group’s planned trip to NYC for the weekend!sbc-nyc

So….to sum up my week: Monday, normal; Tuesday, school shooting; Wednesday, snowmaggedon; Thursday, 2-hour delay for school, otherwise normal day w/ play rehearsal after school, Friday, @ the school at 4:45am to meet the bus for the trip to NYC!!

Saturday: March for Our Lives Marches happening in 800+ cities in the US and around the world. I’m proud of these kids, and I’m supporting the effort 100%!

I’m dealing with a lot by myself right now, but I’m dealing! Which means trying to be protective without throwing a fuckit bag into my car and driving for my mom’s house in California. I’m dealing with it…..tearing up at the news, but trying to be strong.

Until.

Until I logged into my FB tonight while watching one of my favorite movies (Love & Other Drugs….seriously, it takes a look at life with a chronic, progressive , incurable illness, and tells us we are not alone. Watch it! 😉 )

The first post that popped up was a friend who lives here, who went through the fear and hurt this week, who has friends at GMHS, who gets what this is like going through this with your high schoolers. They might be taller than you, and (in her case) getting ready to leave for collage, but they are still your babies!

To borrow a few of her words, she wrote “From the time my children were handed to me, my purpose in life has been to make sure they are safe.” She talks about car seats, and holding their hands to cross the street……and monster spray.

That’s how far I got before I just sat down and finally cried out the week’s fear, and hurt, and anger, and uncertainty. I set down my tablet, and I just cried out everything I’ve been needing to cry out for days….maybe even weeks. I sobbed, and I allowed myself to cry however I needed to, for as long as I needed to. And then as I shlepted myself over to the powder room to get more tissues, I realized my whole face was wet, as was one of my pj pants thighs. So, I sat there, and tried to breathe and come back to center and I realized S’s post said “monster spray” and that’s what opened the gates.

I have done everything in my power to keep my babies safe. Cribs, playpens, carseats, bed rails,….and monster spray. K and D, my two oldest, are 18 months apart. So if one or the other had a scary dream, or was worried about monsters under the bed, we  created ” Monster Spray”. Pretty little pump spray bottle, looked pretty, smelled good. No monster guarantee.

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close approximation of ours

 

It took me a little bit longer, and a couple of tougher experiences (stories for another time) for me to finally have my little Bug. She’s my Rainbow Baby, and her big sister is as protective over her as any momma you ever met!

But after this week, I couldn’t scare it away with monster spray. I couldn’t shield her from it, or change it. She marched last week. She saw it happen. She’s speaking out this week from New York. She blanketed all of her social media with #ENOUGH #enoughisenough #neveragain

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I’m proud of her. I agree. NEVER AGAIN.

All of the fear and stress……..I guess I just needed to cry it out. She’s safe, we’re okay. But OH! my Marvel!!! It has been hard!

**deep, deep breath** (This is why I have “ana’laigh” tattooed on my left forearm, Gaelic for breathe.)

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Just….breathe.

And tell the people in your life you love them!! ❤ ~ xunxun

Oh Shit.

The last week has not been easy for me. I watch as the country gets torn apart from the latest massacre. The kids are going to speak to their state legislatures today, for which I am incredibly proud of them and in awe of their strength and their fight.
More are heading up into DC.

They’re not wrong. When is enough ENOUGH?!

I’ve watched the arguments and the fear spreading across the country. Family, and friends, and acquaintances, and perfect fucking strangers fighting like hell on the internet and in person. Demands for NO MORE DEATHS. Arguments for second amendment rights. The right and the left slinging nasty words at each other.

That’s not doing a damn thing and today….right now. I don’t give a fuck about the arguments anymore.

I didn’t sleep last night, and what sleep I got was punctuated by nightmares. And then I get this news today:
Students arrested for threat of mass violence.

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WJLA Washington, DC ABC News

That. IS. MY. KID’S. HIGH. SCHOOL.

That post yesterday? That fear? It’s real.

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ENOUGH IS ENOUGH.

Check Yourself

Like the rest of the US I have been watching the news over the past 5 or 6 days and trying to figure out what to say….or do…or think. 17 more dead. This is not okay.

I sat here this morning catching up on news and social media and I came across a friend of mine’s Facebook post about sending her daughter off to school this morning. It was just a quick blurb inviting thought by sharing that her daughter said “remember what I’m wearing in case you have to identify me.”

I had tears in my eyes and I had to catch my breath. Her daughter goes to the same high school mine does.

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I live about 9 miles or about 15 minutes from my daughter’s high school because we live in a pretty rural county It’s middle America. (Seriously google it….”Middle Earth” pops on my zip code)
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There was an incident several years ago at this school. Yes, even all the way out here, we had a “threat”. I didn’t have any kids in the school at the time, but I watched the news coverage as reports of a handgun in a student’s backpack prompted a lockdown of the high school, the tech center, and the middle school because they are all essentially one campus. The parents could not get to their kids and gathered at the county fair grounds across the street from the school.

Tears in my eyes as I tried to imagine NOT being able to reach my child and protect them. Anybody that knows me knows I am a Mama Bear. DO NOT mess with my kid. Do not threaten my kid. Do not get between me and my kid. I will hurt you.
My oldest was in a car accident almost 2 years ago. I got the phone call and pulled up to the accident scene in less than 10 minutes. (To be fair it was about 2? 3? miles away)

But I have never forgotten what that felt like to watch these parents stuck on the other side of a 4 lane highway (I use highway loosely….main road?) unable to go get their kid in the middle of a lock down.

So when I read S’s post this morning, I stopped. Time stopped. I couldn’t breathe. Because that is a horrible truth. That is an unthinkable truth.

This has to stop. #NeverAgain

I’m watching my country, my family, my friends, my acquaintances, people I care very much about, and people I’ve never met argue over opinions, fault, policies. This is insane.

Do you get that?! This is crazy. We are supposed to be a First World Nation. We are supposed to be The American Dream. If you work hard enough you can have anything, remember that?? Milk and honey and opportunities.
But we have more gun violence, more deaths, more fear and threats than many Third World Nations. People are afraid to visit the US because they’re afraid they will be shot like in the Wild West.

But Xun….2nd Amendments? Individual rights? Who are YOU to tell me what I can and can’t do?!

To that I say, Check Your Privilege.

I thought about this a lot over the last few days. I am white, middle America, middle income, living in a house we built 3 1/2 years ago, standing in a shower in a bathroom I designed, crying this morning because time stopped for me as I thought about what to say or how to write about this. Suddenly  it was 2 years ago when I lost my sister, or 5 1/2 years ago when I lost my Dad and I was standing in the shower trying to figure out how to live in a world without them.

Because 17 funerals are being planned right now. Do you get that? 17 people that did nothing more than get up and go to work or to school last Wednesday, that didn’t know the shooter from Adam, are now gone.

BUT…

I am watching the next generation, the survivors, stand up and say NO MORE….

Emma González is amazing and brave and strong. And I am watching the news of her and the other students, the other “kids”, organizing a fight for #NeverAgain. Speeches, walk outs, marches. These kids and their community are fighting for everyone else. No more mass shootings. More deaths. No more sense acts of too many people dying in one day for what?
NO MORE.

 

Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School Students 

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I debated what to title this post. Because I’m watching the news and the debates on social media. What do you say? How do you talk about it? It’s been almost 19 years since Columbine and can you say anything has changed?

17 funerals, memorials, celebrations of life being planned. 17 people gone. 17 more gone. In an affluent suburb in Anytown, USA.

So check yourself. Check your privilege. But for the Grace of God go I.

 

 

Gen X? Only Child?

I always said the one thing I got out of college (besides a degree and being the first woman in my family in 4 generations to go to college) was a birth order theory. I was a Psych major, which if you know me is kind of ridiculous because psychology is waaayyy too subjective for me.

I have discovered I am a really, really objective kind of girl. I like things to be true, and proveable, and empirical.

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But somehow I failed algebra twice, I have a psych degree, I’m a writer, and I believe psychology is good for understanding birth order theory. And I have emerging observations about the generations in addition to birth order.

I’m Gen X. Born in the first half of the 70’s so I’m pretty sure that puts me squarely in Generation X. My parents being 20+ years older than me puts them in the Baby Boomer Generation. I had kids young and then, for several reasons I have touched on in previous blogs, I have a 10 year age gap between my oldest and youngest child, which was just enough to put them in millenials (kid 1 and 2) and almost Gen Z (youngest).

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I am also an only child. Something that seems to be less common in my generation. But then I went on to have 3 children of my own. So when I started studying birth order in my second year of college, I found it really interesting. And, observing my own behaviors, my husband’s (he’s an oldest), and my three kids; I found a part of the abstract, subjective major I had chosen that made more sense to me. I always say in the unlikely event I ever go back to studying Psych I would focus on birth order.

One of the most interesting things to add, for me, is also throwing in the generational changes.

Build a Legacy Leave Lasting Impression Future History Message

(I haven’t been blogging a lot, so I thought I’d share some of the noise in my head since health-wise I am mostly stable right now. Post MRSA, stable brain tumor, managed pain, waiting til June for more all-metal hip implant related tests. But I’m a writer, and it’s always noisy in here, even if most of it just ends up in my journals. So the birth order thing is a subject I find interesting. And this is today’s noise in my head.)


And the world is crazy enough right now so I’ll skip the commentary.

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I am a born in the 70’s Gen X’er, very (very!!) much an only child. It’s not a bad gig, but I always knew I wanted more than one child of my own because there’s a lot of social skills you don’t necessarily learn as an only. Throw in that we moved A LOT when I was a kid (5 elementary schools, 2 middle schools, and 3 high schools), and you have me. Red-headed rebel child, introvert, music lover, dancer, writer, weirdo.

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My husband is an oldest. He has 2 younger brothers in an age spacing kind of close to our kids. I had my oldest kid early in adulthood, which is a blessing because I started showing symptoms in my 20’s, so if I had waited to have kids until my late 20’s or early 30’s I might not have more than one….or maybe any. I have 3 kids, but I have been pregnant 5 times.

Anyway, back to the story. My oldest is squarely in the millenials. My oldest two actually. Born in the first half of the 90’s (92 & 94), they are all millennial. My youngest wasn’t born until December 2002, so she’s more of a gen Z. It’s interesting to see not only the differences in who they are as oldest, middle, and youngest; but different in generations.

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Did you know it’s not uncommon for onlys to marry oldests? The oldest is usually more independent and responsible. The middles are often peace-makers or entertainers.  Youngests are more easy going and happier. Onlys have traits of both oldests and youngests. (I mean, it makes sense right?)

I am an only, and an introvert, and happy to spend plenty of time by myself. But my youngest is known to follow whoever’s home around the house and just like to be nearby. My oldest is responsible and (too)hard on herself sometimes. My middle has always tried to make us laugh and he’s an entertainer.

What do you think? Are you an only? Or a youngest? Do you see bits of yourself in some of these traits?

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Side note: Friends of mine lost their daughter to brain cancer this last week. Please consider donating to Stand Up 2 Cancer or The American Brain Tumor Association. Both causes close to my heart . Or even just share my post or the pages for either organization.
Prayers, positive energy, love, hope, or strength are all gratefully accepted and I will pass them on to the family.

My heart hurts so much for them right now. I don’t have the words….

❤ ~ X

7 Days, 7 Photos; Day 5

It’s a cool, rainy, windy Fall Sunday for us in the Northeast. And a bit somber for me today too, as I learn of my friend losing her Dad to cancer this morning. My own Dad passed, from cancer, 5 1/2 years ago so I understand my own experience with mourning the loss of a parent. I’m trying to word that right because I know my feelings and experience aren’t the same as hers, and I’m trying to remember that and respect it.

But it definitely feels like there are far too many of us in the Club now…

Cristina: “There’s a club. The Dead Dads Club. And you can’t be in it until you’re in it. You can try to understand, you can sympathize. But until you feel that loss… My dad died when I was nine. George, I’m really sorry you had to join the club.”
George: “I… I don’t know how to exist in a world where my dad doesn’t.”
Cristina: “Yeah, that never really changes.”
~ Grey’s Anatomy, S3; E12 Six Days, Part 2

And onward to today’s photo….

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Happy Sunday Spoonies! See you tomorrow for day 6! ~ ❤ Xun

It Hurts

When I’m overwhelmed or there’s just a lot going on in my life, I tend to get really quiet. Yes, I’m aware that when it would make the most sense for me to write it out, cry out to the world, I tend to shut down. Retreat into myself. I’m aware. I still call it a survival mechanism. A leftover from a tough childhood.

The things that hurt…

…on the day my sister (in law) died, my son kicked me out of his life and it’s taken me about a year and a half to get something that almost resembles the beginnings of a start. But he’s my son, that’s my boy. I’ll take the pain. There’s no way I’m walking away.
…I miss B (my sister) all the time. I wonder if I could have done more for her. I talk to her a lot. Which sounds like I’m just a leeeetle bit crazy. But I believe she’s around. I think….I hope that we can have these conversations and she hears me and I can find bits that tell me we’re communicating.
…I miss my dad. I miss my dog. I like to think they’re off in this amazing better version of here. And together.

…And my biggest secret. My wedding anniversary is supposed to be tomorrow. I mean …it still will be. The date marking an event that happened 18 years ago will still exist. But mostly only because I’m still alive, sometimes against my will, and I’m still here. I packed up and left for about a year, 10 years ago. But all hell broke loose in my life and I got scared. I retreated back into a life that was familiar. I told myself I was happy.

Then I got sicker and sicker….
Chronic pain, complications from my hip replacement, pneumonia in both lungs with O2 stats dropping to 86%,leading to in home O2 for 3 months. More surgeries, more treatments, all while a full time college student, all while moving to and through 3 different states, all while trying to make a marriage work and take care of my kids and my family.

Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary, 18 years ago I stood at the base of the Ko’olau Mountains and recited words from an event I wrote.
Now, I don’t even know what “thing” (silver? cotton? silk?) the anniversary stands for. I don’t have a card, or a gift, or a plan. Because I am unhappy. Unhappy as in I go to sleep more nights than not hoping I don’t wake up.

I’m sorry to think that for my mom and my kids, but I just feel like my reasons, my purposes…are done. They’re over and I can go now. I mean I’ve lived through 6 surgeries, septicemia, a brain tumor, radiation, and MRSA . And 2 blood transfusions. When is enough enough?

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2016 was an all out, no holds barred suckfest. Universally.

But 2017 leaves me feeling like my life is upside down. I’m unhappy. And I don’t fight…..well, with anyone anymore, but my husband in particular. And very few people know that or know why. But the fight has been chipped away, and there’s not much left.

So, yes, I am very quiet lately. I am struggling. I am unhappy. And those are the kinds of things that leave me retreating into myself.

Perspective

There’s a lot going on in my life right now. My oldest is living with me for a bit and getting her classes and clinicals set up for the upcoming semester. She has all 5 of the next semesters planned out and then tah-dah!! She’s off to be a radiographer extraordinaire! And my youngest has decided to make the leap into public high school, so that’ll be the biggest change for her (and for me!) (Seriously….ahhhhhh!!!! If you want me, I’ll be in my blanket fort!!)

I’ve shared all of this before, but on the heels of all this stuff, it also be time for the yearly check up. Kid goes tomorrow, probably need a Dtap booster and we want to get the Gardasil and she’s a happy and healthy kidlet, so she’s gonna be just fine!

Me? Well I started today by getting my lazy-wanting-to-crawl-back-under-the-covers bootie up and over to the clinic so the could pull my “fasting labs” before MY yearly check up next week. So that was 7 (seven!) vials they pulled today! I’m pretty sure I should have had a cookie and some juice before I left.

But I am seriously the world’s easiest stick:

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I was just surprised it was so many vials! But I’m an easy stick, no rolling veins or trouble finding one. Stick, get the blood, BOOM done!

Then after dinner, I was sharing news about my friend’s dad had a heck of a scare last week and I spent most of last week praying for her and her family and thinking “I just really don’t want you to have to join the club.” (Grey’s reference)

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There’s just so many of us that have lost our dads already, and far too many of those come from cancer, and I just…..I believe in miracles and I wouldn’t want that experience for anyone.

So I have been thinking about my friend, and sending good energy out in her direction.

I’m still technically a brain cancer patient, but I’m stable right now, no changes etc. But my friend’s Dad had a really scary afternoon last week and came back from 2 (TWO!) cardiac arrests and was busting out of the hospital 4 days after and asking to go to the local VFW Friday Fish Fry. And the whole thing just sat me down.

I’m still a brain cancer patient, but I’m stable and still fighting for my independence. I’m down to 3 doctors these days and doing much better than a year ago (when I had MRSA). I just mean I understand both a patient, and as a daughter who did lose a Dad to lung cancer 5 years ago.So I’m sitting in my living room, mulling things over, and feeling like I should share and I look up….

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A Sailor’s Wife on the wall, a gift from my sailor when he retired out of the Navy after 24 years. My incredibly cool cherry blossom tree card I got for Mother’s Day, Deadpool…..because Marvel, and our newest incredibly cool thing in the house: a 3D printed moon that lights up from the inside.

Sometimes I just get sat down bust by looking around, thinking about stories we share with other people, or they share with us. Seeing something you can relate to…..sometimes there just are no words.

But this week I found some perspective, something to be grateful for, a lot of hope for,a  couple of tears, and a question for myself.

My friend’s Dad went into cardiac arrest twice , he got CPR and the paddles and he fought back. He came back. Could I have done the same thing in his shoes? I’d love to reply to that question with a snappy “yes!!”, but I’m not so sure.

If anything, it certainly shows that the will to fight is just as strong as any chemo, surgery, or medical intervention. Don’t get we wrong, one of the reasons he survived was because he was in a place the allowed him to be treated while they called the ambulance and got him to the hospital.

But hearing how things happened certainly gave me pause. I’m a brain cancer patient too, but I am stable and doing pretty good right now. So I send my heartfelt prayers, and love, and hope to that family. And I hope I keep in mind that the will to fight is just as important as any IV, scan, drug therapy, or surgeon.

Sometimes,  the fight seems it might just be a little bit more.