The last few weeks have been hard. Michael is almost always in pain, to varying degrees, and always tired. It tears me up inside to see him like this. Watching him take a moment after he gets up to steady himself, seeing him take so much care and time climbing a flight of stairs, it breaks something inside me because I know he hates being this way. He also hates the fact I am seeing him like this. He is a man, and men never want to appear weak. It's written into the DNA, I think. Right now he is, and we both hate it.
But I am also proud of him. He let's me see him like this because he trusts I will not kick him when he is at his most vulnerable. He trusts that I will take care of him and do everything I can to keep him safe. He knows I won't make fun of him, or bring this up later to hurt or embarrass him. That's a trust built on love and time. Very few people get past all Michael's walls to get to that spot, but I did. It feels wonderful.
Even at our most hellish time we still rejoice in our love for each other. I never thought I would find love like this, or that I would be capable of giving love like this to another person. Oh, it's been tested. But we've passed each one.
Now we are grappling with hope and it's a vicious beast. Michael's last chemo before taking the PET scan is March 31. We are both optimistic the results will be good. The cancer will be gone. But we don't want to get our hopes up. We know what it means if the cancer is still there. More chemo maybe, or radiation. More drugs, more pain, more waiting. It's a monstrous boulder hanging over our heads by a very thin thread. We want to know and we want to know NOW.
Patience. I'd like to punch patience in it's smug little face.
If the cancer is gone we can finally get back to our lives. We can get healthy again, we can work out, ride bikes, hike, go camping, and skate. We can make plans in advance! We can see our friends and hang out without worrying about germs. We can say yes to invitations without the, "We may have to cancel..." Our kids will stop worrying. Our families will stop worrying and fussing. We can live again. IF the cancer is gone.
Patience, please fall in a deep pit full of sharp, broken glass and lemon juice.
So we wait and walk that fine line between getting our hopes up and fearing the worst. When I see Michael next I'm giving him a big hug and lots of kisses. This whole cancer thing has been a bitch, but we've come out stronger than ever:)
Friday, March 21, 2014
Friday, February 28, 2014
Love
For my Michael, because of the millions of people on this planet we managed to find each other. Because we belong together. And because I thought I knew love until I fell in love with you.
Times have been hard. Emotions have run the gambit. Tears have been shed. But we've laughed, too. And we've loved, because in the end that's all there really is.
I'm proud and happy to stand by your side, baby. You never have to be alone again. This song is for you:)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwsYvBYZcx4
Times have been hard. Emotions have run the gambit. Tears have been shed. But we've laughed, too. And we've loved, because in the end that's all there really is.
I'm proud and happy to stand by your side, baby. You never have to be alone again. This song is for you:)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwsYvBYZcx4
Monday, February 10, 2014
Boredom, Party of Two
The worst thing about cancer? The monotony. With cancer you get into a routine. Chemo, after chemo, side-effects, healing, check-up, rest, and then chemo again. You see the same people in the same places over and over. As much as you may like them, and we do, you get sick of seeing their faces.
The pills, the fatigue, the laying around feeling bad, it never goes away. I ask Michael if he's ok about 329 times a day. I don't mean to, I know he gets tired of being asked, but then he'll wince or groan and the phrase pops out again. "You ok?"
It kills me to see my husband struggle with his battle against cancer. I can cook, clean, transport, converse, and try to lift his spirits, but when it comes to actually fighting the cancer I'm like a third tit - useless. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. What I have to go through is nothing compared to what he is going through. But damn, this sucks! It's like standing on the shore of an ocean watching him drown. I can't jump in and save him. I can only stand there and watch.
But the very worst part is being keenly aware of how much is going on around us, and how much we are missing. We had a friend visit from California. We were invited to attend church with a friend's family. My niece had her first cheer leading gig. There was a brunch we were invited to. All these fun things..... passing us by as we hide in the house. Germs, especially those that cling to children, must be avoided at all costs.
Staying at home all the time is so damn boring. We can only play so many games, only watch so many TV shows and movies, only walk around the house so many times before we flop down in frustration and just stew in boredom. You want to feel the passage of time? Get cancer.
It's no one's fault, I'm not playing a blame game here. This is what we need to do in order for him to get better, so we'll do it.
I'm so proud of Michael, he has stayed the course in regards to positive thinking. We try to laugh as often as possible. I do what I can to make him happy, comfortable, warm, and fed. We love each other and enjoy the company. But gads, when will this end?
Cancer takes your life and stomps on it with cleats, chops up what's left, puts it in a blender, drinks it down, and then poops it out right at your feet.
Every. Week.
We want to be able to go to a crowded area and not have to worry about germs. We want to go out without people looking at him and asking, "You ok?" We want to spend time with our friends and family. We want to get back to roller derby. We just want our life back.
We are in a good position and I realize that. We are not fighting a losing battle. We will beat this thing. Many won't. I try to keep that in mind. I try to remember that we are lucky. When I'm climbing up the walls and flipping through the TV channels, done with laundry, done with cleaning, done with all the "put off" projects I've done, just DONE, I try to remember that.
We are halfway through. Only 4 more chemo treatments before the routine changes. I know we can do this. And once this is over, if you see two people running around St. Louis like chickens with their heads cut off, it's us.
The pills, the fatigue, the laying around feeling bad, it never goes away. I ask Michael if he's ok about 329 times a day. I don't mean to, I know he gets tired of being asked, but then he'll wince or groan and the phrase pops out again. "You ok?"
It kills me to see my husband struggle with his battle against cancer. I can cook, clean, transport, converse, and try to lift his spirits, but when it comes to actually fighting the cancer I'm like a third tit - useless. I don't want to sound like I'm complaining. What I have to go through is nothing compared to what he is going through. But damn, this sucks! It's like standing on the shore of an ocean watching him drown. I can't jump in and save him. I can only stand there and watch.
But the very worst part is being keenly aware of how much is going on around us, and how much we are missing. We had a friend visit from California. We were invited to attend church with a friend's family. My niece had her first cheer leading gig. There was a brunch we were invited to. All these fun things..... passing us by as we hide in the house. Germs, especially those that cling to children, must be avoided at all costs.
Staying at home all the time is so damn boring. We can only play so many games, only watch so many TV shows and movies, only walk around the house so many times before we flop down in frustration and just stew in boredom. You want to feel the passage of time? Get cancer.
It's no one's fault, I'm not playing a blame game here. This is what we need to do in order for him to get better, so we'll do it.
I'm so proud of Michael, he has stayed the course in regards to positive thinking. We try to laugh as often as possible. I do what I can to make him happy, comfortable, warm, and fed. We love each other and enjoy the company. But gads, when will this end?
Cancer takes your life and stomps on it with cleats, chops up what's left, puts it in a blender, drinks it down, and then poops it out right at your feet.
Every. Week.
We want to be able to go to a crowded area and not have to worry about germs. We want to go out without people looking at him and asking, "You ok?" We want to spend time with our friends and family. We want to get back to roller derby. We just want our life back.
We are in a good position and I realize that. We are not fighting a losing battle. We will beat this thing. Many won't. I try to keep that in mind. I try to remember that we are lucky. When I'm climbing up the walls and flipping through the TV channels, done with laundry, done with cleaning, done with all the "put off" projects I've done, just DONE, I try to remember that.
We are halfway through. Only 4 more chemo treatments before the routine changes. I know we can do this. And once this is over, if you see two people running around St. Louis like chickens with their heads cut off, it's us.
Friday, January 3, 2014
I'm Lucky
I just wanted to say how proud I am of my husband. It would be easy for him to be in a bad place right now. His body is going through hell. His mentality is taking a beating. Things have changed due to his cancer and he could very well be a total ass about it.
Butt he's not:)
He has managed to keep such a good attitude it keeps me from getting down. He is still willing to joke and make fun of our situation. He keeps going despite being tired and worn out. He keeps smiling no matter how bad the pain is. Luckily, not a lot of pain, but a lot of discomfort.
I snuggle next to him at night and it is the best feeling in the world. I feel safe and happy and content. I wish we could stay like that forever, but every morning brings a new set of problems that need to be addressed. He faces them head on. I could not be more proud of him.
I read something interesting today:
Seems like I found mine:)
Butt he's not:)
He has managed to keep such a good attitude it keeps me from getting down. He is still willing to joke and make fun of our situation. He keeps going despite being tired and worn out. He keeps smiling no matter how bad the pain is. Luckily, not a lot of pain, but a lot of discomfort.
I snuggle next to him at night and it is the best feeling in the world. I feel safe and happy and content. I wish we could stay like that forever, but every morning brings a new set of problems that need to be addressed. He faces them head on. I could not be more proud of him.
I read something interesting today:
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Kooties for Christmas
This year's Christmas was not the best. Don't get me wrong, it was enjoyable, but because my sister's family was sick, so they stayed home. It was the first time in my life that I did not have my whole family with me for Christmas. Michael is doing very well, and for that I am extremely glad.
Just a few days before Christmas Michael and I finally got a tree. It was sitting all by itself, sad and wet, in the corner of Home Depot. Poor thing, it probably thought it would end up in the burn pile without ever knowing it's true beauty. We saw it! It has been the most beautiful tree we've ever had. I really don't want to take it down...
We had a good Christmas with Devon and my folks. There is no feeling like being in warm jammies, opening presents, laughing and just having fun. I don't know about Michael, but it did a lot for me.
I'm glad, because after Christmas some side effects started. Michael is getting the metallic taste in his mouth and he has dry mouth like whoa! He has little energy, and is fatigued so easy. He's sleeping well, so that's a blessing, and his appetite is going strong. Even though he is doing well, I know his immunity is crap. Thus, my sister missing Christmas. We have to keep the germs away.
Then after Christmas Devon got sick. Gah!
I followed him around the house with anti-bacterial wipes. Sorry, Dev! He's such a sweet kid, he pretty much quarantined himself in his room for days so as not to get Michael sick. The flu is on the rise in St. Louis. My sister's family was germy. Now my kid was sick. I wanted to wrap Michael in bubble wrap and stick him on a high shelf.
The 29th was my mom's birthday. Devon was feeling better so we set up a dinner date with my mom and dad that evening. She was spending the day with my sister's family, so that would give them time to clean up and meet us. I was still leary, so I sat between him and Michael as a buffer. My mom and dad showed up... with my sister's family.
Great, so instead of three people who can potentially make Michael sick, I now had seven. I wanted to give everyone a Purell shower. Don't touch anything, don't talk to Michael, don't even breathe!
I've become obsessed with clean surfaces. I watch Michael's every move (much to his chagrin). I try to fix meals that are high in calories and healthy at the same time (not as easy as I thought). I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep until I know he's sleeping. I feed the snakes and scoop the cat poop because Michael shouldn't do it. I feel like my grandmother with how hot I keep the house and car (roasting!).
Others don't know. They don't live with it. It hasn't changed their lives. Their day-to-day routines are the same. They don't spend hours at doctor's offices. They don't listen to the good news and bad. They don't see the others going through the same thing. It's an exclusive club, one with no privileges. Michael and I are doing very well, and for that I am very thankful. But outsiders just don't know. They can't.
Just a few days before Christmas Michael and I finally got a tree. It was sitting all by itself, sad and wet, in the corner of Home Depot. Poor thing, it probably thought it would end up in the burn pile without ever knowing it's true beauty. We saw it! It has been the most beautiful tree we've ever had. I really don't want to take it down...
We had a good Christmas with Devon and my folks. There is no feeling like being in warm jammies, opening presents, laughing and just having fun. I don't know about Michael, but it did a lot for me.
I'm glad, because after Christmas some side effects started. Michael is getting the metallic taste in his mouth and he has dry mouth like whoa! He has little energy, and is fatigued so easy. He's sleeping well, so that's a blessing, and his appetite is going strong. Even though he is doing well, I know his immunity is crap. Thus, my sister missing Christmas. We have to keep the germs away.
Then after Christmas Devon got sick. Gah!
I followed him around the house with anti-bacterial wipes. Sorry, Dev! He's such a sweet kid, he pretty much quarantined himself in his room for days so as not to get Michael sick. The flu is on the rise in St. Louis. My sister's family was germy. Now my kid was sick. I wanted to wrap Michael in bubble wrap and stick him on a high shelf.
The 29th was my mom's birthday. Devon was feeling better so we set up a dinner date with my mom and dad that evening. She was spending the day with my sister's family, so that would give them time to clean up and meet us. I was still leary, so I sat between him and Michael as a buffer. My mom and dad showed up... with my sister's family.
Great, so instead of three people who can potentially make Michael sick, I now had seven. I wanted to give everyone a Purell shower. Don't touch anything, don't talk to Michael, don't even breathe!
I've become obsessed with clean surfaces. I watch Michael's every move (much to his chagrin). I try to fix meals that are high in calories and healthy at the same time (not as easy as I thought). I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep until I know he's sleeping. I feed the snakes and scoop the cat poop because Michael shouldn't do it. I feel like my grandmother with how hot I keep the house and car (roasting!).
Others don't know. They don't live with it. It hasn't changed their lives. Their day-to-day routines are the same. They don't spend hours at doctor's offices. They don't listen to the good news and bad. They don't see the others going through the same thing. It's an exclusive club, one with no privileges. Michael and I are doing very well, and for that I am very thankful. But outsiders just don't know. They can't.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Chemo - Schmemo
We had our first chemo session yesterday. It wasn't as bad as we thought. It took less time, too, only 5 hours. We were sure we'd be there until the sun went down.
Everyone at the Cancer Center is great. They really take care of their patients. I made three hats and donated them to the cause. I can spit them out in about an hour if they are simple. Three hours if not.
Michael feels fine. He slept... a lot! But so far no sickness or terrible, terrible side effects. Everyone keeps telling us they don't show up right away so I am on pins and needles. Michael is more optimistic. We'll see.
I just hope we can hold off any nastiness until after Christmas.
Merry Christmas to everyone, and to everyone a good night!
Everyone at the Cancer Center is great. They really take care of their patients. I made three hats and donated them to the cause. I can spit them out in about an hour if they are simple. Three hours if not.
Michael feels fine. He slept... a lot! But so far no sickness or terrible, terrible side effects. Everyone keeps telling us they don't show up right away so I am on pins and needles. Michael is more optimistic. We'll see.
I just hope we can hold off any nastiness until after Christmas.
Merry Christmas to everyone, and to everyone a good night!
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
A Wedding and a Week's Worth of Waiting
On December 13, 2013, Michael and I eloped. We had a very short, very small ceremony in the place he first asked me to be his girlfriend. I wore a white dress. He wore a black suit. It was amazing.
We had a very short honeymoon in Hermann, MO before returning to St. Louis and starting a week of doctor appointments. On Monday Michael was scheduled to have his port put in. Oh wait, not so fast! Scheduling conflict, the port is actually going in on Thursday. Grrrrr.
The doctor putting the port in... I'm so glad he is not a proctologist. He has fingers bigger than a summer sausage. He's 6'6" at least and eats very well. He and his staff tried their best to fix the error but it couldn't be done, so Thursday it is.
Later that day we met with the Chemo doctor and took a tour of the facility. Up until that point it wasn't real to me. Like talking about a vacation, you don't get excited until your bags are packed and you're on your way. Seeing the room with the recliners and IV poles brought it all home. My husband has cancer. It's not a joke or a mistake. This is really happening.
But the ladies of the cancer center were very warm and welcoming. The doc has been doing this for 38 years so I'll believe anything that comes out of that women's mouth. Well... ok, I probably won't because I don't trust people but I do feel he is in capable hands.
Tuesday they took a bone marrow sample. Yeah, they stuck a big needle through his bone and sucked some juice out. It wasn't as bad and we thought, but still, ew. I'm so glad that's over.
Today Michael had to go through a lung test. He blew into a tube. That's the description I got, don't blame me for being vague. Everything looked good. Thursday he gets the port. Friday they test his heart. We have one last weekend and them boom-shaka-laka, chemo on Monday. It's been both a slow and fast week for us. So much crap, so much waiting.
One nice thing is they gave us a lovely blanket. Volunteers make them for cancer patients. I like this idea. I saw they also had a basket with free hats. There were only two little hats in there, so I'm going to make some to donate. We will have a lot of time on Monday, so I plan on making them right in the center. On a loom I can spit them out one after another, boy;)
Michael says he feels like he's already beat this thing, all we have to do now is go through the motions. I love this man. He was broken and angry when we met. (Let's face it, so was I.) But we have healed each other and led each other to a better path. I am a firm believer in everything happens for a reason. My life has led me to this place. I will be Michael's strength when he feels weak, his caretaker when he is sick, and his fighting spirit when he feels weary. He has done this for me.
I once thought love was dead, or something made up by Hollywood and Hallmark. But I know it's real. I see it in Michael's eyes when we wake up in the morning. I feel it when we hold hands. Love isn't the big gestures or romantic nights, it's in the tears I wipe from his eyes when he is upset. It is in the way he scrapes the ice off the car so my hands won't get cold. It's laughing in the grocery store, or discussing the tragedy of Firefly being canceled after only one season. There are thousands of ways we love each other every day and we don't have to try.
So I hope you are ready, Cancer. We are going to kick your ass.
We had a very short honeymoon in Hermann, MO before returning to St. Louis and starting a week of doctor appointments. On Monday Michael was scheduled to have his port put in. Oh wait, not so fast! Scheduling conflict, the port is actually going in on Thursday. Grrrrr.
The doctor putting the port in... I'm so glad he is not a proctologist. He has fingers bigger than a summer sausage. He's 6'6" at least and eats very well. He and his staff tried their best to fix the error but it couldn't be done, so Thursday it is.
Later that day we met with the Chemo doctor and took a tour of the facility. Up until that point it wasn't real to me. Like talking about a vacation, you don't get excited until your bags are packed and you're on your way. Seeing the room with the recliners and IV poles brought it all home. My husband has cancer. It's not a joke or a mistake. This is really happening.
But the ladies of the cancer center were very warm and welcoming. The doc has been doing this for 38 years so I'll believe anything that comes out of that women's mouth. Well... ok, I probably won't because I don't trust people but I do feel he is in capable hands.
Tuesday they took a bone marrow sample. Yeah, they stuck a big needle through his bone and sucked some juice out. It wasn't as bad and we thought, but still, ew. I'm so glad that's over.
Today Michael had to go through a lung test. He blew into a tube. That's the description I got, don't blame me for being vague. Everything looked good. Thursday he gets the port. Friday they test his heart. We have one last weekend and them boom-shaka-laka, chemo on Monday. It's been both a slow and fast week for us. So much crap, so much waiting.
One nice thing is they gave us a lovely blanket. Volunteers make them for cancer patients. I like this idea. I saw they also had a basket with free hats. There were only two little hats in there, so I'm going to make some to donate. We will have a lot of time on Monday, so I plan on making them right in the center. On a loom I can spit them out one after another, boy;)
Michael says he feels like he's already beat this thing, all we have to do now is go through the motions. I love this man. He was broken and angry when we met. (Let's face it, so was I.) But we have healed each other and led each other to a better path. I am a firm believer in everything happens for a reason. My life has led me to this place. I will be Michael's strength when he feels weak, his caretaker when he is sick, and his fighting spirit when he feels weary. He has done this for me.
I once thought love was dead, or something made up by Hollywood and Hallmark. But I know it's real. I see it in Michael's eyes when we wake up in the morning. I feel it when we hold hands. Love isn't the big gestures or romantic nights, it's in the tears I wipe from his eyes when he is upset. It is in the way he scrapes the ice off the car so my hands won't get cold. It's laughing in the grocery store, or discussing the tragedy of Firefly being canceled after only one season. There are thousands of ways we love each other every day and we don't have to try.
So I hope you are ready, Cancer. We are going to kick your ass.
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