What to do when you have to do it all over again

Posting has been sparse over here, I recognize that. There's a reason for it. I'm not sure if it's a good reason. You tell me. I've been dreading posting because I don't like to deliver bad news. All my family and friends, new and old have been so supportive and happy for me after the news in this post, and I am so grateful for that.

The thing is, while the scan showed no signs of disease, when they went in to do surgery, my doctor found a whole ton more cancer in my chest wall. Which means we're back to the grindstone of chemo and radiation for the next 5 months or so.

The worst part of having cancer is telling people you have cancer. Or still have cancer.

Cheeser

Adam claims he was exactly like this as a child.

Hair (pictures fixed)

         

A friend of Adam's Mom  (Collette) has a friend (Karen) who crochets and made this amazing hat for me. I was dashing out the door with the kids to our Trunk-or-Treat and snagged it for an easy quasi-costume.
"I'm a person with hair!"

Halloween!

These are the only pictures I got of my kid's Halloween costumes.

They were both adorable.

Lydia was a ballerina (her hair was even in a bun for one of the trunk-or-treats we attended), which was solely her idea and worked out great because we just bought all the pieces of her costume. I hope to sign her up for a dance class next year, so it's just an investment.

Rafe was a duck. His favorite snuggle toy is a big ol' stuffed duck, so it was super cute to see him dressed as a duck and toting around a duck. My Mom did all the work on his costume, so I basically didn't do anything to prep for Halloween this year. Score!

Anybody (Kim, Kayleen?) get better pictures of my kids in their costumes?

Both kids loved it, Rafe covered himself with chocolate, and we have found that Lydia is suddenly very cooperative when we mention that acting otherwise could result in a Halloween candy tax.

Happy Halloween!

What to do when you feel like a cowboy

All week I've felt like there's a holster at my hip. If someone jumped out at me and said "Draw," I'd counter with "Drain!" and pull out the plastic vessel that's connected to my insides by a plastic tube to strike fear into my opponent (obviously my opponent is cancer - I don't think anyone else wants to kill me). I'm toting it around in a little pouch that, when covered by clothing, makes it look like I've got a gnarly goiter. This is all a side effect of the surgery, and while the drains were annoying at first, it's not a big deal now. Except when Lyds accidentally sits on the tube and practically yanks it out of my chest. That's kind of a big deal.

In other news, here's me wanting to show off my peach fuzz. I kind of want to keep my hair this length permanently - it gives me something to do when I'm thinking. Nothing like a lucky head to rub...oh wait...I'm probably not what you would call lucky...

Drain comes out tomorrow and then it's down to the serious business of becoming accustomed to my new Amazon shape. Man, it's going to be so easy to draw my bow and arrow now! It's going to completely up my warrioress game. In truth, I'm mostly just dreading having to wear a bra again. 

FREEDOM!

This describes my life

xkcd got it right.
Here.

Past the point of no return

It's weird to be in the hospital without a brand new baby.

I'm here for a completely different reason. Yesterday I had surgery to remove my right breast. This decreases the likelihood of my cancer returning.
But.
It's kind of alarming.
It feels like I'm in someone else's body.
I'm doing okay, but I feel like it's going to take a while to adjust to this and to feel at home in my own skin.

In other news, hospital food is gross and I have to take sponge baths for the next 2 weeks. So there's that.

Opera going

When Adam performed in Le Nozze Di Figaro last month, I got to attend with a good friend of mine, Michelle, and her daughter.

Forgive the bad lighting - I think a finger ended up in front of the flash. Lydia was not attending, but obviously needed to dress up.

Adam said I looked like a pirate, with the dangley earrings, headscarf, and all. The effect was particularly pronounced when I put on my blue pea-coat with anchor buttons...  It's so easy to look like you're wearing a costume when you're bald. In other news, that's the first time that blouse has been worn since my older sister's wedding...5+ years ago.

Going to the opera is always a good excuse to dress up, but especially so when it's an IU production. They go all out. If you're interested in seeing a video clip from the opera, featuring Adam, check out his professional website arwalton.com. Also, for those who were unable to attend, and missed the live web-stream (or if you just want to see/hear more of that amazing goodness), the recording is now up on IU's website, here. Just click on Marriage of Figaro (the picture should be of Adam) at the bottom.

Cute kids

Thanks to our wonderful neighbor for the great addition to our lives. Aren't these great chairs?

The R word

Oh, that elusive R word that every cancer patient hopes for: Remission.

We've achieved it!

My lastest PET scan showed no cancer anywhere in my body.

So instead of facing another kind of chemo, we're in maintenance mode.

HUZZAH!

Pumpkins with the punkins

Growing up, pumpkin carving was a big deal. It took hours upon agonizing hours.
This was caused by a simple thing.
Sibling Rivalry.
Everyone wanted theirs to be the most creative, coolest-looking, out-of-this-world jack-o-lantern anyone had ever seen. So the night started with a bunch of people just sitting around not even touching their pumpkins, just brainstorming.
Seriously agonizing.

Anyway, I was pleased when this pumpkin carving session took a mere 45 minutes. Rafe pointed (very vaguely) where he wanted eyes and Adam went from there.

Lydia drew a face on her pumpkin and I tried to be as true to it as I could.

Hey, who knew family traditions were fun...

The day I thought would never come

Rafe's curls got too long.

Cry with me, people. I truly thought that I would think his curls were adorable until the end of time, but one day they were fine, the next day they were so-so, and the third day they were definitely too long. So, with the moral support of my Mom, I cut them off. I also totally messed it up, but as my Grandpa Dalton used to say, "the difference between a good haircut and a bad one is three days."

He looks so old. :(

The more things change the more they stay the same

The cancer seems (in my head) so life-changing. I thought I would just be so loving all the time to my kids, more patient, more energetic, more enthused about life, but much of the time I still just want to sit, or nap, or not be touched by toddler hands.

There are moments where I remember how special this is, and how important each moment is. But those moments of remembrance are not as frequent as they should perhaps be.

It makes me feel like a person who has received a witness of the gospel, but has drifted away - forgotten their experience with the Spirit. Am I Oliver Cowdery - continually needing reminders of the preciousness of life. Am I "casting away [my] confidence?"

The hair returneth!

Apparently I am not in the 10% of people for whom some or all of their hair does not come back. It's not really hair yet, but my head definitely looks brown instead of skin-colored (is ecru skin-colored? Everytime I do a crossword I wonder). Adam rubbed my head the other day and said "You're just peachy." It was sweet.

I have amazing, wonderful friends

Shout out tonight to my lovely Bloomington friends. Kayleen, Giulia, Nikki, Michelle, Kim, and Emma, you are the epitome of beautiful people. Thanks for making me feel like I've accomplished something.

They planned a night out for us girls at a local restaurant. We sat at a table for over three hours, talking, discussing, eating, laughing, etc. A "Victory" cake, complete with fondant breast cancer ribbons, made a spectacular entrance, followed by thoughtful gifts to remind me of how far I've come and to help me through upcoming trials.

In short, it was a perfect evening. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you all.

And to all my other friends who have done incredibly thoughtful things, you deserve shout outs as well. I will write them soon.

If I can get pictures of the festivities from other participants, I'll post them.

What to do when you're not feeling good.

First of all, take your meds. Number one cause of not feeling well for me is being late on my meds.

Second of all, laugh. When your CVS pharmacist calls and asks if you have any (more) prescriptions for him to fill, just chuckle at the humor of the situation. How many people get to be on first-name basis with their pharmacist? How nice to be considered a regular at the corner drugstore, missed when absent too long. Similarly, when your 3-year-old daughter mentions in a voice quivering with emotion that she loves you even though you're bald, let it tickle your funny bone as opposed to striking a nerve. She meant it as the sincerest compliment, but you're allowed to laugh till you choke when she's out of earshot.

Finally, fake it till you make it. It applies to playing in the marching band in high school and again when up against a serious illness. If you don't feel well, pretend you do. Get dressed (not-withstanding the beauty of your paisley pajamas), do the things you would do on a normal day, and turn the corners of your mouth up.

And in all likelihood, you'll still feel grumpy and gross. But at least you got a laugh and got some stuff done.

Love,
Balding Bonnie

P.S. I would like to clarify what I mean when I say "you're not feeling good." It is a distinctly different feeling than "feeling like death itself." If you are superwoman (or man),you should follow my instructions regardless of which feeling you have at that moment. If you are not endowed with powers beyond those of mere mortals, feeling like death itself definitely means "go back to bed and binge on Project Runway."

You know what they say about desperate times...

This morning my Mom and I reached the point of desperation. Rafe has figured out how to get water from the front of our fridge. He finds a cup (any cup - if he can't find one, a bowl, or bucket, or shoe will do. Then he fills it as full as possible, pours it on the tile floor, and promptly slips, banging his head on the way down. As soon as he's done wailing and the floor is mopped up, he repeats. Enter the duct-tape/cutting board solution.

He's not too pleased about it, but he'll get used to it. We all will, because I'm pretty sure this isn't coming off for the next year.

Slow moving life

As I type this, I'm lying in bed. Rafe is napping, and Lydia (miracle of miracles) specifically requested her "quiet time" today. Sometimes quiet time consists of coming out eighty-seven times to complain or ask me for snacks, but today, we pulled out our collection of books on tape (yes, actual tapes). The whole collection (probably 50 books or so) was a Freecycle score from years ago. Each book and tape has it's own bag, and a portable tape player came with the whole shebang.

I'd just like to say that this is a rather pleasant way to spend an hour.

The first book she listened to/read was "Where the Wild Things Are." When she was done, I asked her if she liked it. "Dere were lots of Waurs (Roars) in it. Max wore a costume like me! It was kind of scary."

I really like her, and I like how she's getting so old and interested in things and articulate and capable, even if her stubborness, passion, and independence sometimes result in very emotional miscommunications.

Cute hair

I am not great at getting Lydia's hair done everyday, but sometimes I try. I saw this hairstyle on a couple girls at church and on facebook and though I'd give it a shot. 

Cute, huh?

What to do when you are an extremely awkward human being

Had my first professional massage today.

It was...interesting.

I'm not sure I'll try it again, but I wanted to see if it's just that I don't know how to get massages and did something wrong, or maybe it's really just that I'm totally sociophobic (made-up-word, I know) and should never be allowed to interact with other humans.

I assume that even non-cancer massages have some paperwork involved, right? Liability and all that, in case they massage a nerve and paralyze you for life (tell me that can't happen)? My cancer massage had lots of paperwork and I felt like I was trying my hardest to pass a test, but I didn't know which answers would allow me to pass and actually get the massage. Like they were just going to say, "Nope, shouldn't have checked that box. No massage for you. Leave now." After the paperwork, which already felt test-esque, the massage therapist asked me a ton of questions about my cancer and my meds and where my pain was (the point where she asked if my pain was under control felt like a dealbreaker - like since I'm not in terrible pain, I shouldn't be taking up a valuable time slot where another actually in pain person could get their cancer massage. But apparently I can get a massage even if I don't hurt that much). So that was the oral part of the exam.

I decided to just get her to massage my feet and calves, since I've had some cramping in them - possibly related to chemo, but maybe just because my sedentary lifestyle became even more sedentary over the past few months (if that is even possible) and my muscles just want to be used. So I didn't think that I would have the issue of clothing or non-clothing. Because let's face it, that's really my concern about massages. But then she said that it would be easier if I were pantsless, unless I wanted her to massage my thighs through my yoga pants. That sounded weirder than being covered by a sheet, so I agreed, but really, I was thinking "Why are we even touching my thighs?" The answer to that question is probably something to do with circulation or other nonsense. And then I realized that maybe I should have gotten some non-religious underwear for this particular situation. But I didn't realize that until after she had left me to undress and slip under the sheet.

This is tmi, obviously. I'm just such an awkward human being. She dimmed the lights and turned up the...music, for lack of a better word (synthesized extended notes vaguely reminiscent of ocean waves doesn't trip off the tongue that well). Then she started rubbing my feet and I had no idea what to do. Should I talk? Should I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep? It's kind of like the dental hygienist or the hair-stylist question. Do they expect you to chit chat? And what about? I have absolutely no idea what to do in those situations, but I especially had no idea about what to do in this massage situation. And then I just kept thinking about it and getting more and more weirded out by myself. About halfway through I remembered that I needed to be back in plenty of time for Adam to take the car to school and didn't know how long it had taken and was going to take and I wanted SO BADLY to check my watch. But I didn't. Aren't you proud? I just sat there like some sort of stuck-up queen with an underling massaging her feet.

So here are my questions. Will you guys help me be less of an awkward person in the future if I ever try to do this again (unlikely)?

• Have you ever had a professional massage? Full body or just an appendage?
• Did you enjoy it?
• Did you talk to your masseuse? If so, what about?
• Was it a clothed or non-clothed massage? Dare I ask about underwear or no?
• Would it be weird to give them specific instructions about where you want stretched or kneaded? Or is that like criticizing their professional skills?
• Should I give it another try? And should I stick with the feet or try something else?

Please help!