Everyday I get thoughtful people asking me, "How are you doing? And Clay and the kids?" And I usually say "Living the dream and doing great!" It's kind of a fib and kind of not. Sort of a fake it till you make it kind of existence. Basically if I make myself smile and be happy...I am. But there are days...
And on those days I am grateful for mental health medication. Yup. I'm on crazy pills. A double dose for the really bad, can't breath, feels like I went on a bender and woke up with drinker's remorse sort of anxiety. I know you know the "drinker's remorse" sort of feeling. Because you are friends with me. That feeling of dread when you wake up with yesterday's mascara down to your cheeks and looking like a meth head and trying to remember what caca-may-me things you said to God-knows-who. Except I wasn't on a Busch Light bender. And I didn't drink a plethora of Pinot. I just have a horrible feeling that I did something horrible and something horrible is going to come back to haunt me. The past two months have been laced with anxiety out the wazoo. But I am beyond relieved that the crazy pills have started to work their magic. And no one better go all Tom Cruise Scientology whack job on me and tell me that I just need to work out and take vitamins to make myself feel better.
Because here is the thing. I can't really work out. I can't walk or run because the chemo leaking out of the capillaries in my feet are burning my tootsies. And when I say burning, I mean massive huge blisters and blood blisters forming on the bottoms of my feet and sometimes blisters coming up my legs. The good news is that they pop and start feeling better the week I am off the chemo. Have you thrown up a little in your mouth yet? I know. It's grody. So I go to water aerobics with a bunch of Centrum Silver poppers at the community pool. Shirley is the instructor. And I use the term "instructor" very loosely. About as loosely as the loose stool the chemo gives me. (Sorry for making you throw up again a little in your mouth. But this is my reality.) Anyhoosikins, Shirley thinks she is the bomb.com. She is an 80-year-old water jazzercise instructor that plays Abba's Greatest Hits on repeat for the entire session. Except she doesn't really instruct you on what to do. She just yells in her headset microphone to do the dog paddle the entire hour. And then busts me for talking to Sally and Maryann during "quiet time." Even though I was having a very important discussion about Maryann's latest bridge work on her teeth and dentures. Old people love talking about their ailments. And it is always a competition about who is closer to the pearly gates.
I can't speak about the rest of my family's feelings--because that is their story to tell if they want to tell it. But I know this year hasn't been easy. My daughter just told me that she was scared of me when I was bald and sick. Levi recently told Clay that he used to be scared that I would die, but now he thinks I am better. And sweet Caroline cries because she can't remember me with long hair and she loves long princess hair. Clay has had to deal with my emotions, his emotions, the kids' emotions. It has been a roller coaster. Like the Magnum at Cedar Point roller coaster.
But there are things I am so glad we put in place that I thought we would never have to worry about. I signed up for the short and long term disability through work about 15 years ago. We would be bankrupt if I didn't have that cushion. I cannot stress enough to pay that 18 or so bucks a paycheck to get the disability insurance. Just do it. It is only 60 percent of my pay, but it is definitely better than nothing! Because I haven't been able to work for well over a year now. I am also glad that I was brought up to have that fiscally conservative German in me. Because we have no car payments. Clay drives a 1999 Chevy pick up that we bought used in 2002 and I am still cruising in my 2005 grocery gettin' Ford Expedish. That I bought in 2011. Car payments are a huge expense that we don't have to worry about. That "would be" car payment money now goes to my insurance premiums. That are $640 a month. Ouch. This does not include my medical bills. Which would make your head spin. But this is not a "whoa is me" paragraph. This paragraph is about being so thankful to the people that have helped us out over the year and the good fortune we have had! Because I know you were wondering, "Now how in the heck could they afford to go to Disney?!" I'll tell ya. Bank rewards points that we haven't used in 17 years. And special gifts from our favorite Disney planner. Also named Jill. The real bomb.com.
Can you tell I worry about people thinking badly of me?! I do my best to not worry about what bad news the future hopefully doesn't hold for me. But here is the truth. Many people think you can just beat breast cancer and it is the "good" cancer to have. Reality is that if it comes back, there is no beating it. No cure. The medical team does their best to prolong life, which is on average about three years. And you never know when, why, or how it may rear its nasty-ugly head. So I am focusing on moving on and doing fun things in life! Like hornswaggling our way into local resorts for the day and pretending we are Rockafellas. The Jay-Z kind. Here we are on Mothers Day living the life! Oh, I also learned on this day that crazy pills and a few Miller Lites don't mix. I Googled chemo crazy pills and alcohol a day too late. I may have taken a little snooze, but dang we had fun!
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| Me and my mini-me! |
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| Toofless hunk |
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| My handsome nephew! |
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| Sweet Caroline |
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| Make sure to tell him he doesn't look fat! |
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| And the eight(teen) year old. So cool. |
