Going Up, or Going Down?

I can tell you the exact moment that I realized God was real.  I could tell you it was because of the book, A Prayer For Owen Meany, because it was the most wonderful and heart wrenching book I have ever read.  I still can't think about the final page without tearing up and wanting to hug the darn book.  I wish Owen Meany was real, and I am convinced he was real, because nobody could just make him up.  Owen Meany made me want to believe in God.

 I could tell you it was my 1st grade argument with a Nun in CCD.  That was a good one, how many Nuns do you think have had a 6 year old child asking them to show them the contract they signed at birth accepting Adam and Eve's Original Sin as their own?  I am guessing not too many.  For some reason, I was a little pissed off that I had to pay for someone else's mistakes.  Little did I know that would become my specialty in life, fixing mistakes that others made. 

But I must be honest, God hit me smack in the middle of my forehead one day, and I will never forget it.  I was in my 20's, my best friend from childhood was engaged, and I made a bad choice and spent the night with her fiancé's brother.  It was something I brushed off and never thought about again, until I went to the rehearsal at the church.  I had been to this church many times growing up, I often went to church with my friend.  Her parents were always so kind and seemed happy that I wanted to go with them (it was much more gentle than my Roman Catholic church experience)  So, after years of not being in town, I drove to the church and parked in the back lot, where we had parked while I was growing up so many times. 

I went to the little back door, and inside there were 2 sets of stairs, one going up and one going down.  I wasn't sure where to go for the rehearsal, and as I looked down I noticed the Pastor (a new one, someone I had not met before), so I asked, "Am I going up, or am I going down?"  I guess I just expected him to know that I was there for my friend's wedding rehearsal.  I always expect people to know what I am thinking!  So, the Pastor looked at me for a moment, and he smiled and said, "Oh, you are going UP!". 

Suddenly I realized that a holy minister had just told me I was going UP.  I thanked him and excitedly skipped up the stairs to the chapel.  And just as I walked in the door, the only person there was right in the door and it was the fiancé's brother!!!!  I just looked up and mentally told God, "OK, I get your point.  I am not there yet!"   And after that I never made a bad choice like that again.  Because I want to go UP.  Not that it guarantees it, but I felt something real and knew the path I had to follow. 

So, God does have a sense of humor.  But He still means business.  And I am totally on board now.  Better late than never, right? 

Things I Shouldn't Have Done

Today the Joan Jett song, "I Hate Myself For Loving You" was on the radio, and I enjoyed a flashback to my college days.  For some reason, the year AFTER the Joan Jett concert at our university was what I was thinking about.  It was a really bad choice on the part of the student leadership, a school popular with financial majors, thus financially conservative, hired Bobcat Goldthwaite for a comedy show. 

I was a member of the board or something, I really can't remember.  But I was expected to be there to assist the roadies if needed while they were setting up, and if you were lucky you'd get to meet Bob.  I was just biding my time before going out to a bar with Brenda and Anthony, although we were definitely going to see the show.  The three of us were pretty liberal and irreverent at the time. 

So, there I was in my tight jeans, plain V-neck shirt and jean jacket, with my pale blonde long, wavy rock and roll hair, watching these guys set up the stage.  I did not look like the other preppy kids who were there to assist.  So, one of the roadies came up to me and asked me if I could sell him some pot.  I told him I didn't do that but I could probably introduce him to someone who might be able to help him out.  I got Brenda, and the roadie met us at the entrance to the dorms, and I signed him in (NYC school, guards!)  I went to a guy's room, introduced them, and they went into the room while Brenda and I made sure nobody else was around in the hallway.  The guy was thrilled and asked us if we wanted to party with them all, and of course we were not interested.  He was confused, why in the world would I help him when we weren't interested at all in hanging with Bob or getting high for free.  I just explained I was there to help, as directed by the upper level people on the committee. 

Anyway, the show was a bomb.  Financial majors do not find Bob funny at all.  Brenda and Anthony and I laughed our brains out, at the lack of response and at the jokes.  Then the roadie dragged me back after the show to meet Bob.  I really didn't want to, but didn't have a choice.  When I walked into the room, Bob did a double-take, I looked more hippie next to all the kids in suits and preppie clothes.  The roadie told him I "helped" them out tonight, and Bob was all happy and thanked me profusely.  I shook his hand, got a flag signed for Pat Norton (a guy from the dorms) and ran out of there so fast.  It was face time at the Raccoon, after all!!! 

So many memories, meaningless out of the moment, but so fun to remember.  :-)

Everyone says I am doing great

I just wonder how other people do with this operation?  I feel bad for people who have little tolerance for pain, because there's a lot of that going on.  I don't mind it, otherwise I'd ask for stronger meds, but there's always the discomfort.  I have to hold my chest when we are driving over train tracks or bumps in the road, which means I have to be vigilant, which is very hard when you are on drugs.  I am not driving yet, thankfully.  I'd hate to have to explain to a policeman that I crashed into something because I had to hold my boobs instead of steering while going over the bumps!

I am cranky a lot and not very nice sometimes when people call me.  That's a side effect of dealing with the pain, I think.  Last night we had to call the urgent number as I have an infection on one side.  John had to go to a 24 hour Walgreens and get me hideous antibiotics that are strong and nasty.  I started them at 11:30 and have to take 3 pills every 6 hours for a week.  But, the infection seems to have gotten a little better today so it's worth it.  Antibiotics just make me feel ill and REALLY cranky, so I avoid them at all costs. 

I am also still really tired.  John took me to a yard sale that a friend's daughter had, and then we stopped at Lowe's and that wore me out.  In the grocery store, I was practically falling asleep on my feet, and moved quite slowly.  Even John was concerned if I was okay.  We came home after that and I took a nap.  I am feeling like another one, but my meds time is in 30 minutes and I don't want to miss it!! 

The swelling has gone down more on one side than the other (the infected one is still swollen) so I look really weird right now.  I am looking forward to Monday, hoping to get those Doppler wires out of my chest, and I don't know what's down below the tummy tuck line but I feel two wire-like things coming out of me and I have to ask about those too.  There's a lot more to this experience than I should be sharing, but hey, if any woman makes a decision based on my opinions, she's in big trouble unless she's as tough as I am!!! 

Not an interesting entry, but at least it's an entry! 

No, I didn't sleep for a week and a half

Although I might have enjoyed sleeping that long!  I don't recall much from the hospital, mostly the drug pump.  I only had it for 2 days, and it was really nice.  I held it in my hand and am pretty sure I clung to it in my sleep, which lasted 6 minutes.  Then I would wait those 30 seconds, and hit the pump button again, and I would fall asleep.  I was under the impression John visited me a ton of times, but it was really just that I hit the drug pump 5 times for each of his visits and thought it was a new visit every time. 

At least 6 thousand people looked at my chest and touched it and pushed on it to make the doppler change the sound of the flow of blood to the tissue.  Frankly, I did not care.  After the drug pump was a new drug every 2 hours, so I would sleep, wake up, take pills, and sleep for 1 hour and 58 minutes again.  I've been home a week now, and I've slept a lot and done very little else.  I've had lots of visitors because even on drugs, I can sit and talk.  Heck, I wouldn't be surprised if my corpse sits there and talks long after I am gone one day. 

I got the report back from the surgeon who removed my breasts, and they did not find addition cancer outside the areas they'd already identified, so this means no more treatments and I should be done with all but the reconstruction process.  I see the plastic surgeon tomorrow so I will write about that if I can keep my eyes open afterwards. 

My torso feels like someone is crushing it and the skin feels like it's burned.  It's really odd.  I just wait for pill time and forget about it for a while.  My husband would probably have much more interesting things to say about the past week and a half as he has done all the work and put up with all the pain in the butt stuff.  Right now he's at Girl Scout day camp setting up my kitchen, where I will not be teaching this year.  But I have awesome teens running it so I am not worried at all. 

Sorry this is so boring, I really have to get off the drugs and have a beer. ;-)

Operation Cupcake

Tomorrow is the big day, in just hours I will be sleeping for an entire day!  I won't be sleeping much tonight, and I will post when I get home from the hospital, although John will be posting on my FB page as well. 

Is Using Cancer Wrong?

I really need to know if using my condition is wrong.  I don't mean in the way that I am upset and freaking out that I have cancer and so things flip me out uncontrollably.  That would not be using cancer.  I mean actually not being upset that I have cancer, and using it to get what I want from others.  I'll give you an example.  I took my Girl Scouts out for a shopping spree to spend their money, and I accidently used too much money.  So, I get a card in the mail, and I call the number.  Today, I went to the bank and deposited $20 to cover the $5 deficit, and the slip said I was still short like $19.  So I called again, and they said I only had a few days to deposit the money so I got an overdraw fee.  Soooooooo....what to do?  I just blew 20 bucks of my money to cover the GS cost, and now they want more.  It's like throwing money into a black hole.   I was not going to do that.  Thankfully, my voice is completely out of control and so I told the bank lady that I have breast cancer (using the word breast always gets you attention) and that it took me a week to get to the bank because I am at the doctor and trying to function.  I said I didn't think it was fair for me to get this penalty because I've had the account for years and never had a problem.  Well, she bought it and removed the charge.  Whew! 

Is that wrong?

Is it wrong I told all the store managers that I have cancer and want their response NOW for Boy Scout popcorn sales in the fall?  I don't think it's wrong simply because I am telling the truth.  How can that be wrong?  I tell everyone I have cancer.  It's fun.  Some people flinch, some hug me, and everyone is shocked to find out that I am not made of steel and I am destructible.  Considering the fact that I see death around every corner, I would think nobody would be surprised that I am infallible.  My entire life has been about tactical evasion of death. 

It's only 3 weeks until the big operation now.  I get an abdomen scan on the 5th, not sure why but I am sure the plastic surgeon needs it for the removal of tissue.  Now that I am pretty well recovered from the last operation, I am feeling impatient to start the next one.  I do need to exercise again to prepare for it.  I will get into the gross aspects of the next operation soon.  It's really gross.  At least to me!!

Springtime For Hitler In Germany......

That's about how surreal my life can be.  If I didn't know Adolf the Schmuck was dead, I'd expect him to show up with dinner or flowers or just to say hi and chat for a bit.  You know what's really weird about my life right now?  I have no control.  I talk to people, I seek them out, I like them.  I love so many people of so many different lifestyles, religions, incomes, educations, and police records that I can't have a party to invite them all because my friends have never really connected with each other, just with me.  I like people (I just noticed I left race out of that list, but anyone who actually knows me realizes that is because I do not consider race a difference at all), actually I am sure you all know that I love people!  Every person is worth my time, my attention, and someone who might make me laugh, learn something, or any number of options.  There's so much potential in people that I rarely reject the opportunity to chat. 

But, now people are seeking me out.  They are visiting, and sitting down wherever we happen to meet to talk to me and give me way more than a good laugh and a shared opinion.  People are giving my family food to eat so I don't have to cook (and neither does John) and flowers to me which all seem to be bright and happy and not death flowers at all, just power flowers, with the vibrance of life in them and making me realize that maybe some people might like having me around.  I recieved a package from a very special friend from college, with all sorts of fun things in the box with little notes on everything and I went through that numerous times and shared all the comments with my friend Kristie and she just loved it all.  So did I!

People are also hugging me and praying for me and doing all sorts of things that I am not used to.  Brenda (my college roommate, the best roommate EVER) would recall that in college, I was amazed that the people at our local bar (in NYC) actually thought about us when we weren't there.  I am not one to ever really think about others keeping me in mind, and it still blows me away that anyone actually does think about me unless I am right in front of them being a pain in the butt.  It's funny because I have spent a lot of time over the past few weeks thinking about all the awesome people I've met in my life, and I must admit I've been spoiled rotten.  My big mouth and demented sense of humor has managed to find me so many fun friends, and my ability to appear normal has found me even more who I am SURE still have the wool pulled over their eyes when it comes to who I really am.  But there are days I think they really do know and don't mind so much.

Heck, even friends I thought I'd lost have reached out with love.  Like unretrievably lost.  And here they are.  So how can I really be sad that I have cancer?  It's not like I think I deserve better, I've been lucky for most of my life.  Sure, I work hard, but I love to work hard with friends and family and physical or mental or emotional labor is always good when you share.    Frankly, I couldn't have it any better in life.  I love my husband and my kids, my ex is a good father and all of our families are great.  My wonderful friends from my past are all within reach with Facebook, and the town I moved to 8 years ago has ended up being filled with kind, sharing, wonderful friends who won't allow John or me to turn down help.  I always thought this town was awesome, but now I am just overwhelmed with the generousity of my friends and acquaintances.  There might be no place like home for Dorothy, but for me, there's no place like Auburn. 

I feel like a total fraud.  I'm almost thankful I have cancer, it almost justifies all the kindness and attention. 

I hate to let so many of you down, so many of you tell me I'm inspiring and strong and other things, but really, I just am an optimist with a sick sense of humor, aren't I?  Yes, yes, I will fight this bastard to the death as I have so many weaker enemies.  And if I come out with a better deal than I had before the cancer, awesome.  If I come out worse for the wear, that's okay too.  I will survive and will deal with it because that's what I do.  Just remember, cancer is not the worst thing if the diagnosis is not really, really bad.  And even if it is really really bad, fight it like it's Adolf Hitler.  Miracles happen and it's fun to fight something that deserves the hate!!!

Long long babble.  Sorry.