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Chemo, bullies, and meds! Oh my!

My last few days have been quite difficult, as I wind down from my chemo cycle. This one was a little more difficult. It wreaked havoc on my stomach, feet, hands, joints, even my eyes were dry. But I am blessed with only one more round to go.  Hopefully that is the end of the little shit. I got enough rollin’ around in my head, I don’t need an extra lump of bad cells with a stupid medical name like oligodendroglioma. Who the hell comes up with those God-awful names anyway?  You know it’s stupid long when you lose your letter count half way through. Or maybe that’s just me, because of the dumb thing.

Anyway, I had to take some long naps, lounge in my jammie’s and listen to the sounds of my home for a few days to re-ground myself.  I also had good much needed conversations with a dear friend who reminded me that I have had an incredibly long 18 months. And I can handle a slip-up backwards sometimes. Not quite to the shit canyons, maybe a smaller poop crater.  I’m starting to get my teeter tooter levelled out again. Tomorrow will be better. We are blessed to start again tomorrow with a blank slate.

This is what was on my mind all day today.  We have to remember that people that try to drag us down are themselves sad, lonely, and insecure. These people don’t like our high teeters. It is intimidating to them. And can be very powerful for us to remember. These are the ones who have got too comfortable in their shit canyons, decided they liked it there (maybe it’s easier for them than doing the work to dig out of it) and try to do a recruitment, in a way. To pull us back down, when we know that flowers grow up, and smell much better. Even if you try and try to help them, they don’t want to hear it. They are the bully. In school, at the malls, at work, at home sometimes, in book clubs, out at bars or clubs,  they can disguise themselves anywhere. But we have the one thing they forgot they had: value. We value ourselves, and our dear family and friends. We value our many fortunes we have been given (& not just $$).  I will never allow anyone to take my value from me again.  I will teach our children that THEIR value is also to be respected and cherished. And priceless. God, I love my babies. All my babies, my own & and ones that are like my own.

There is no amount of $$ that can replace this value in my life.

Let’s all live a little more,

Donna

ps- teeter tooters wasn’t a typo 😊

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Friday night holiday lights and gently weeping guitars

On this Friday night, as I lay bundled in my comforter haven, my living room is filled with kids of various ages from 15 to 21, all jammin’ out to the Beatles rock band.

Safe.

Away from the news casts of the events of today’s world, because of the connection to the game console.  This is the moments when I don’t care how long the game is turned on.  Because if it is on, they are not watching tv and hearing about bombings, hostages and terrorist plots. About planes going missing, families torn apart, or mothers and fathers losing their precious babies.

Tonight it’s all about happy octopuses, Lucys diamonds in the sky and getting by with a little help from their friends.  And for that, I am greatful. Our children have enough to worry about in their transitions to being a grown up.  Bullying, first loves and heartbreak, school grades, college & university apps, anxiety and so much more. We owe them some escape from this mad, mad world.  My contribution is a drum set and a guitar.  And a kick ass set list.

I am also on day 2 of 5, round 11 of my chemo meds to kick Evins ass.  The music drifting up my stairs is a welcoming, gentle reminder that everything here is going to be ok.  1 more round in December and I hope and pray that is all.  At this time last year I was 1/2 way through my 42 day cycle of chemo/radiation treatments. Both years, finishing right before my favorite time of year.  I can’t help but think this was all part of my ‘life grand plan’.

Tonight I slowly started decorating the house, a little tired and achy from the meds, but slow and steady I will win my race.  I absolutely love Christmas. To me, it is such a magical time of year, since my children were born and I found my husband.  My tumor will never take that from me.  It has taught me to love deeper, help others as much as we possibly can, and that life is so unfair sometimes.  So unfair.  But we need to find the lesson in all the shit canyons.  Even if it takes a yellow submarine to get us there.

Let’s live a little more,

Donna

 

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When tears mean happiness and a smile can hide sadness

My last post touched a bit on my young parents and some struggles it caused during my childhood.

Ironically while driving in my little town yesterday, I saw that my childhood home is listed for sale.  I immediately checked it out on-line when I got home, and with it, a wash of memories swept ovr my mind .  Although the wall colors are different and the carpets changed, I flashed to my brother and I playing G.I. Joe by the fireplace, reading Babar the Elephant, and our Christmas tree in the front window with the giant lights on it.  It also reminded me how young I was when my anxiety started.  My brother and I shared a room for quite a few years on our 2nd floor, and our 1 washroom was downstairs. I was so afraid to leave my comforter haven that when I had to use the washroom in the middle of the night I would run into the closet and pee on my giant stuffed dog.  That was safer than running down the stairs.  Who knew what was down there. (Answer: kitchen, living room, bathroom.  Not goblins, ax murderers, and masked killers…).  I am still unclear why I was plaqued with these horrible thoughts and feelings.  I guess I was the lucky number chosen in the children who will have anxiety lottery.  A few years later, my parents moved me down into the room beside the washroom, with the reason being I was too old to share a room with my brother.  I think my mom found Buster the pee hound and thought, ‘ok, down you go’.  A whole new world of anxiety.  Maybe because i was the only one sleeping on this floor of the house.  This room had a closet that scared the shit out of me. This room had a window accessible right from the front porch. Easy access for serial killers, and goblin murderers.  I honestly do not know how my heart handled it.  One night just after we changed my bed to a different wall, the ceiling in my room collapsed. Right where my bed used to be.  Probably from all that anxiety weight.  It had to go somewhere I guess. Shortly after that, my parents separated and our house with the crazy monsters was sold. My cheeky child-smile held so much sadness, but that locked box in my head is still keyless, and that’s ok right now.

My anxiety somehow got packed in with the rest of my stuff. Probably in the box with my Mini-Pops albums and cabbage patch kids.  It is like the gum that just won’t come off the bottom of your shoe.  As much as you try. Damn gum….

Last night I was really weepy.  I mean fat tears rolling down my face.  Maybe it was remembering the good times my brother and I had in that house, or remembering how far I have came since I was 5 year old Donna.  I’m not sure.  My kids had a tough day too, maybe it was a full moon. Or maybe they sensed I was off a bit.  Or maybe I search for a reason when one just doesn’t exist beyond the fact that I have anxiety.

This is also the first week since July 2014 that I haven’t had daily nursing come to my home. My official last nursing day was Friday, November 13th.  These ‘angels in scrubs’ are not just nurses that come in and check my incisions and take my blood pressure every day.  They are my anxiety helpers. Reminding me that I am OK.  That THIS anxiety is 100% normal for someone who has had 4 surgeries on their head in the past year. I missed their presence last night.  Their comfort.  But for a different reason. It means I am getting better. Stronger.  And they can go and help other patients who need them to wipe their tears, and hold their hands.  And make those patients laugh when they really think they are dying from their heart exploding with worry.  My tumor journey would not have been imaginable without them everyday. Our home health care professionals (in my opinion) do not get enough credit. From their superiors, company execs, and our community. These people are with us on Christmas when they should be watching their grandchildren open their gifts.  Instead of hanging out at their family’s backyard get together on a saturday, they are flushing IVs and giving life-saving blood thinner needles to clients who have just donated a part of their liver to help an infant (that was my husband, this past summer, with all the stuff going on, he put on a cape and saved a life).  My tears last night were a mix of gratitude tears, and a little shaky anxiety tears too, but an overwhelming flush of relief. That slowly, everyday, I am healing.

Not just from my tumor.  But 5 year old Donna is healing too. I’m proud of us.

Let’s all live a little more,                                           Donna

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Safe haven

My parents had me when they were both 19 years old.  I was actually born the day after they were married, less than 24 hours later.  Their wedding pics featured all my various family members all gathered around this young couple, all teary-eyed,  but I highly doubt they were tears of happiness.  My parents were never a soul-mate-kind of deal.  They were pressured by my dad’s family to ‘do the right thing’.  They were miserable the whole 12 years they were married.  I vowed to never have that kind of life.  Although with being so young, I guess they built the best life they could with the tools they had.  I would trip over my dad’s friends passed out on the floor on weekend mornings, push them out of the way, and watch cartoons with my brother until it was time to go out and play.  There are some memories in there that my brain will not let me remember,  and I am totally ok with that.  They will come back when the time is right.

What I did take away from my childhood was how NOT to parent. I always wanted my friends to come over, and have sleep overs, and giggle all night, but it never ever happened.  Instead I would lay under my covers every night thinking my blankets would keep me safe and protected.  My anxiety started at a very young age.  I was always afraid of something.  Or nervous about something, or someone.  Kids at school can be very cruel, and I was an easy target.  Insecure about my clothes, shoes, hair, my house, EVERYTHING.  I made a pact with myself that if I got through one more night, one more school year, one more missed birthday party invite, that my future kids would never know that feeling.

I would like to thing I have succeeded with that little girls promise.  5 year old Donna is completely different than my kids were at 5 years old.  And man, we struggled.  But not once did they trip over people passed out on my floor.  I was a single parent when my kids were smaller, but that’s another post altogether.  My kids have a completely different life and opportunities than I had.  They are 18 and 15 now,  and know they can come to me and talk about anything. ANYTHING.  Me and their father work very hard to ensure they have what they need to thrive.

My kids also bring home kids that are having a hard time, and hand them to me, in a way, to help them with issues or topics they may not want to discuss with anyone else.   This is what I think makes me the most proud of my children.  They have an amazing gift of wanting to help others.  My son had a friend that came by one day and stayed for almost 2 years.  He is like an older son to me and my husband, and an older brother to my kids.  My house is always filled with kids.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.   Friday nights, rocking out on Rock Band, eating popcorn, drinking pop or bottled water.  And safe.  The whole bunch of them.  Safe from the busy, crazy world.  Safe from pressures.  And crazy skunks. I hate crazy skunks.

I am so proud that my kids still want to hang out with me, even on a Friday night, or any night, and their friends like to hang with me as well.  I am honored that they feel they can talk to me about anything happening in their life.  Nothing is ever a non-talkable topic.  Every child and youth, or even us big adult kids, should have a safe haven.  My heart explodes with happiness that mynkids, and their friends, always know that our door is always open.

Peace, love, safe haven.  Nothing better.

Let’s live a little more,                                                                                                Donna

*please know that I am in no way an expert on anything, much less children.  I am who I am, and nothing more.

Posted on by Donna

Teeter-totter-see-saw-up-and-down-we-go!

Let’s live a little more! Be kind, and gentle with one another. Love will always win ❤

letslivealittlemore

First, I want to take a minute to thank all the veterans who have fought so hard to give us the freedom we have.  My grandfather was a Navy vet, and lied about his age so he could fight for what he believed was right.  I am honored to be his grand-daughter, and would like to think I get some of my fighting spirit from him.  I love you Grampa.

Maybe that is why I’m on an emotional roller coaster today.  Weepy, greatful, teary, thankful.  Some would say that’s just being a woman. But that to me is not really fair.  Because that would mean it’s only women who could feel these feelings.  I disagree.  Men should freely be able to express these emotions without fear of being called ‘girlie’.  These are just feelings, folks, and everyone has them.  Feelings are the one thing you cannot change.  You can change…

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