not for me, but for someone else. I was just looking through the adoption-related posts in WordPress and came across this blog named Circus Peanuts written by a woman who is obviously a first mother. This is a relatively new blog. The post that really tugged at my heart, though, is the one titled What I Can Remember which talks about giving birth to the daughter that she relinquished nine years ago on May 11. Yes, May 11.

This is just one of the voices that will be hurting this weekend and tomorrow, Mother’s Day. I think she could use some encouraging words.

Please help her out.

I was all set to write about how we don’t do much on Mother’s day, how my first Mother’s Day I felt that Frank didn’t do “enough” to celebrate it for me and I had a hissy fit but one of the next two Mother’s Days, I got over myself. I was going to say how I don’t like the fuss people make over it because it’s hurtful to some people, adult and child alike — first mothers, mothers of loss in many ways, children (adult and non-adult) of loss in many ways. That holidays like this — including Valentine’s Day — just seem to magnify the loss of people who aren’t included in the celebrations.

I was all ready to write all of that, but then my sweet boy, covered in dirt practically from head to toe, came in the door with a white gift bag, his name on it, and a poem dedicated to mothers on it. Obviously they had worked on this at school today. Inside of it was a picture of Nate with a frame that he made, obviously with the teacher’s help. On the back of it is a magnet. I’m going to take it to work with me. Also inside was a little plant that he planted in a little blue container. He told me that it’s a marigold plant and proceeded to overwater it. I just melted.

Typically at our house, we don’t do much for Mother’s Day or Father’s Day. When Nate asked me a few days ago what I wanted for Mother’s Day, I told him that something that he made would be great. What he gave me was just perfect, and I truly don’t want or expect anything from Frank. For one thing, I’m not his mother. Besides, I just don’t need a lot of presents.
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I thought that would be the end of this post, but it seems that Mother’s Day just isn’t as simple as even what I wrote above. No, now I hear from Erin of Seriously? that NBC has deemed us adoptive mothers non-moms although now they’ve changed the category to “The Adopting Mom,” probably due to a plethora of complaints. My issue is that they had the category “The Non-Mom” to begin with and included adoptive mothers in that category at all.

Not cool, NBC, not cool at all.
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Honestly? Even though I did absolutely melt with my son’s early Mother’s Day presents? — I still have this unease with these celebratory holidays that leave too many people out or that have the potential to cause too much hurt to too many people.

I remember many years after my father died how I felt on Father’s Day. Everyone was celebrating their fathers and I had no father to celebrate; it just seemed to magnify my loss. Even when Frank and I were married, neither of us had fathers to celebrate, so we just kind of said to each other, “Oh yeah, it’s Father’s Day. Hmmm . . . . . so, when did your father die?” Kind of morbid, no? It wasn’t until we adopted Nate six years ago that we were able to celebrate Father’s Day again.

I think the same thing about Valentine’s Day, about all of those people who don’t have someone and for whom their loneliness is magnified on a day like that.

For us, most of those days are pretty low-key just because that’s how we are and because that’s how we were raised. Since I’ve met mothers of loss — loss of various kinds — and children of loss of various kinds, the point has been driven home to me that Mother’s Day isn’t a happy day for a lot of women, for many children.
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Did you know that the first proposal of any kind of Mother’s Day in the United States was by Julia Ward Howe?

It was a call to unite women against war. In 1870, she wrote the Mother’s Day Proclamation as a call for peace and disarmament. Howe failed in her attempt to get formal recognition of a Mother’s Day for Peace.
(Mother’s Day article)

Now, that kind of Mother’s Day I could get behind!

she said as she turned when we said our goodbyes, me leaving the office.

“WHAT?!,” I wanted to say, “I’M amazing?! What about you? You’re this national/world renowned psychiatrist, so smart, so wise. Me? I’m just learning from you!”

Instead, I was so taken aback, I just muttered a “thank you,” then made arrangements with the office staff for our next visit.

This post has been in my head for a long time but I wasn’t sure how to write it, if I could write it, if I could do it justice, but Margie’s beautiful J-Day post, Spirit has inspired me to try.

I’m talking about my last visit with my psychiatrist, Dr. Cool Indian Lady. She talked to me about how I was doing, about quality of life throughout this whole ordeal and how she could help from her side, from the psychiatric side. Then she asked me, “is there anything good that’s come from this?”

I said that there actually was, but talking about it always made me cry, and I started telling her:

I now know how many people love me. It’s just amazing, the love I feel these days.

and I talked about that a little more, tears streaming down my face, tears of pure emotion, of joy, of feeling overwhelmed with love.

Dr. CIL, who is Hindu, talked to me about her beliefs, that we are reincarnated and with each life we try to get closer to God. She told me that I must have done a good job in my last life for so many people to love me. I think I’m getting this right, but this is where I’m not sure I’m doing it justice. I loved listening to her talk, tell me of her beliefs. My best friend growing up was Hindu and I used to be fascinated to hear about the Hindu religion.

Then we talked a bit about how having an illness like cancer puts things into perspective and I told her about my conversation with Frank about not wanting to go to Europe just for the sake of going to Europe because I want to focus on the people and places that are important to us, not things like buildings and cathedrals. She smiled at me when I was saying this, and it was shortly afterwards when she said the “you’re amazing” comment which really threw me.

You see, I look up to Dr. CIL. I’ve said to my therapist that every time I see Dr. CIL I just think that she’s really smart and wise and I can learn so much from her. And she is very spiritual. This past session, she asked me about how I was dealing with things and the first things she mentioned were faith and family. She was glad that I was leaning on my faith and my family and friends. During one of the previous appointments, she told me that she was praying for me and her mother in India was also praying for me. I was so incredibly touched.

And Margie’s right. I ask for prayers, and I ask for good thoughts, or whatever makes people comfortable, from whatever religious or non-religious background you may have. I’m a Christian, but I see beauty in many religions. Not everyone in my church would agree with me, but then, I’m not everyone in my church. I’m my own person. I have a faith that is getting stronger by the day because of what I’m going through and God is being good and faithful to me. It’s not always easy, believe me, but I’m getting there.

Thank you, Margie, for that beautiful and inspirational post and for the reminder for all of us to be open in our dealings with those of different religious backgrounds.

In closing, I’ll share what’s become one of my favorite scripture verses which I think people of various religions can appreciate. It’s a reminder that I so often need, to focus on the good things and not focus on negative things. So true, and such a difference it can make.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
Philippians 4:7-9

I called my oncologist’s office today to see if they had received the results from the CT scan yet. The phone nurse just called back and said that Dr. Funky Glasses said:

All of the disease is responding well to the chemo.

There’s no miraculous remission, but that’s really OK. To be quite honest, I wasn’t really and truly expecting it. I asked for measurements, but I think I need Dr. FG’s help in translating them a bit better. I was excited to hear that one tumor in the liver they “‘can barely see” now.

Of course this means more chemo, but in the beginning, she thought I would need “at least six months” of chemo. So right now I’m probably at the 1/2-way point of chemotherapy. As we had initially thought, I expect that I’ll need surgery and radiation after that, but I’m taking this one step at a time.

But it’s good news overall. Good news.

And good news, I’ll take.

Thank God.

Somehow, I don’t think I’ve been humbled as much as I’m going to be in this cancer journey. I think the humility that I’ve had to experience is just the tip of the iceberg, really. It’s not always easy either, humbling yourself, accepting other peoples’ offers of help, gifts, whatever it is that they have to give. What I’ve received so far has been relatively “easy” to accept — gifts, prayers, good thoughts, dinners from church people, assistance in other ways.

At the hospital or the doctor’s office, I’m humbled in so many ways, but then again, I expect it there. People are taking care of me. I’m sometimes in a gown, exposed but not quite. There was the time that there was a simple misunderstanding with a nurse in the Chemo Room and it was during a “bad” week, I was feeling very emotional, and I started crying. All that just because I was confused about my schedule. It’s vulnerable stuff. Very humbling.

But this stuff at work just about has me undone. For some reason, asking for donations of peoples’ sick or vacation leave here at work is putting me over the edge; I don’t know why. Every time I look at this stuff, read the email from the lady in charge of it, print out the forms, I start crying. It’s the most humbling I’ve gotten so far, I guess. Maybe it’s because it’s my workplace, where I’m supposed to be the strongest, the most in charge — ?? I don’t know. But I’m having such a hard time with this. I suppose that’s why I’ve put this stuff off for so long, procrastinated until I could no longer procrastinate with it.

Here’s where my name will be put out there, “Judy —– needs people to donate hours for her sick leave,” and then I’ll see how many people step forward. Maybe that’s what has me anxious, undone. How many will step forward? What if very few do? I don’t know. Is this finally the measure of my worth here? I’ve had some, a few people here tell me that they’d be willing to donate some time for me which is very nice of them, but I’m going to need so very much time. It’s a difficult thing to ask for. Everyone has the right to their own sick leave, vacation leave, after all. What if they need it themselves?

I just never thought I’d be in this position. I look in the mirror and I have dark, dark circles under my eyes; they seem to never go away. I’m tired, and some of my blood counts were again below average yesterday. There’s some shot they might give me if they get just a little bit lower. “Maybe next week,” the nurse said. The counts aren’t quite low enough yet. I just want to get the shot and not miss a treatment; that’s my big concern.
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There’s so much I wish I could do for my boy too. Last night he was talking about going on vacation and it was breaking my heart, telling him again that we can’t go on vacation this year.

But my friend, L., she just went on vacation, so we can go on vacation. I really want to go on vacation, Mom.

I have no vacation time, you see. I had to use up all of my vacation time for all of this time off that I’m taking. So I explain, once again, that we just can’t take a vacation this year. I feel badly, Nate so loves going to the beach and spending time there. We all love it, as a family. We get away, just the three of us and spend time playing on the beach, relaxing, playing in the ocean. It’s perfect family time away. We’ve done it together the past 3 years, I think. He expects it now, but it’s not to be. I tell him we can’t.

Oh, that’s right,

he says, sounding disappointed.

We can’t go because you have breast cancer.

That’s the truth of the matter. We can’t go because I have breast cancer. I wanted to cry but I held it in.

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Well, isn’t this a depressing post. Maybe my posts should carry warnings on them. I hope to have a happy post soon. I hope my “results” post will be a happy one, although every time I think of the results I get all emotional too.

It’s just all too much to think about at once.

I’m overwhelmed with everything.

And unfortunately, there are no breaks with this stuff.

It just keeps coming.

I’m embarrassed to say. The old, “let me clarify” thing when someone disagrees with me. This time someone did that with me, “let me clarify” when I disagreed with him and I responded with something like “Oh, I understood completely and I stand by what I said.” I’m being really snarky today. Really. Snarky.

I suppose the combination of waiting for results, steroids, and just going through this from week-to-week is making me somewhat . . . OK, very, cranky. Add to all of those that I’m going to have to ask for peoples’ sick leave donations and it all just makes me either want to cry or punch someone; I don’t know which one. Or preferably both at the same time.

At some point, I’ll probably have to go on disability for awhile, which makes me want to cry again. I don’t know how much of my salary I’ll get with that. It’s hard when you’re the major breadwinner and working or not working isn’t a choice. I have to work. No work, no health insurance for any of us. Not working isn’t an option. It’s never been a problem like this before, though.

People say things to me like “it’s nice that you can continue to work” and how great it is to stay busy and “it’s probably helpful to keep yourself busy,” and I think, “I’m not so sure.” There are plenty of days when I’d rather be resting at home, but maybe it is good for me to come out where other people are. I just sometimes wish it was a different environment, and that’s all I’ll say about that.

Ah well. Work is almost over for today, thankfully. I have my support group tonight; maybe that will help.

Until then . . .

SNARK!

Today is my “easy” day of chemo which means that I get just one drug instead of three. That also means fewer side effects this week, although since the side effects are cumulative, I do tend to be pretty fatigued, even with the “easy” weeks lately. I have noticed, though, that I don’t have nearly the nausea that I have during the other weeks.

The easy day typically takes only 1/2 hour for the chemo, and with no other doctor’s appointments or anything, I’m planning to go into work for the rest of the day. There’s a student worker party, for one thing, and I’ve got a ton of sick leave that I’ve added up for another thing. In fact, I have to call HR and talk to them about my sick leave.

I’m not feeling quite as scared as I was yesterday, but of course that’s for right now. I expect it will come and go until I find out, and then it depends on the results. *sigh*

This stuff sure isn’t easy to go through. It just isn’t.

The test that means so much takes such little time. Well, there’s the preparation time which takes longer. You have to drink that stuff they give you, in two installments. Then 45 minutes after drinking the second drink, they take you to disrobe (everything but underwear and socks), put on hospital pants and gown, and then go into the CT scan room. The tech was so sweet and gentle, calling me “honey,” probably just because he didn’t know my name. Funny, but I don’t seem to mind when they call me endearments anymore.

The machine tells you when to hold your breath, when to let it go. It didn’t take long at all. The MUGA scan that I had earlier today, the scan that’s to tell them how my heart is doing, took much longer. I’m not worried about that test at all, mostly because my oncologist isn’t worried about it. She said that the regimen that I’m on isn’t typically hard on the heart.

But the CT scan is the big test, the one that will see how big or small the tumors are, how well they’ve responded to the chemo, how much (or little) they’ve shrunk.

As we started driving to our next destination, silent tears fell down my cheeks. I couldn’t help it. I wish I had the faith that this morning’s scripture verse talked about, I wish I could be more faithful, more believing, stronger, more . . . . something. But the truth is that I’m damn scared. I’m just really really scared. I know I have too much riding on these results, but I can’t help it. I just can’t.

I want them to be good results. I want there to have been a great deal of progress. I want this fucking disease to start going AWAY.

I haven’t even been living with it for very long but it’s turned my whole life upside-down, it’s made my future into a bunch of “what if’s?” and “I don’t know if I’ll be around for . . . ” and wondering about my little boy and feeling scared about him losing another mother and I try to keep these demons at bay, I TRY and most of the time I succeed but not all the time. The times when I don’t succeed are the scariest times ever, I just can’t tell you how agonizing those times are, I honestly just can’t even come close to explaining it; then again, why would I want people to know what kind of horror it is?

I wish I had the strength of those people you hear about, read about, see on the news, the people who don’t let fear get in their way, who just keep on.

But I guess I don’t and I guess I’m just scared.

I’ll get the results sometime later this week.

Until then — maybe after, depending on what the results are — I’ll probably be scared.

Just scared.

I just started playing with iGoogle recently and one of the things I have up on my page is a daily scripture verse. Today’s verse really nails it with having my CT scan later today:

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:6-7

Indeed!

Happy birthday today to my loving husband who I plan to stick around with for years to come.

Happiest of birthdays, Frank!
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Tomorrow is my CT scan. Anxious, yes, but it’s out of my hands.