Operation Creep Out: Success.

McMurdo Station, Antarctica

Late this summer, our Wifi vendor got a bit busy and called in a friend of his to help resolve some problems we were having with our new internet setup.

Justin was in and out of the office for several weeks (it took him a bit, but he did find and fix our main network issue), and one day happened to wear in a shirt with an Antarctica EMT crew logo on it.  Since Kate was going down in November, I asked him about it, and it turns out, in one of his other lives, he's part of the EMT crew down at McMurdo Station there.  He's gone down each of the last several years for the winter (summer, there), and was planning to go down again this year.

Immediately, my mind began to hatch a plot.  How funny would it be, if, while Kate was wandering around the station in Antarctica, one of the far corners of the world, some complete stranger met up with her and asked her how her mother was doing at Cristo Rey?  It would totally mess with her mind.

I asked Justin if he was in on the scheme, and he was with me in a moment.  (Did I mention he's a bright young man?)  He left to go down there at the beginning of October.  Kate arrived earlier this week.  It's not a real big place, so it only took a couple of days for him to run into her.

His report:  Operation Creep Your Daughter Out was a resounding success!

Have I ever mentioned that one of my favorite parts of being a parent is that you get to mess with them just a little?  I'm still laughing. 

I Wanna be a Bear

Black Bear, Omaha Zoo

If you're a bear, you get to hibernate. You do nothing but sleep for six months.  I could deal with that.

Before you hibernate, you're supposed to eat yourself stupid.  I could deal with that, too.

If you're a mama bear, everyone knows you mean business. You get to swat anyone who bothers your cubs. If your cubs get out of line, you swat them too.  I could WAY deal with that.

If you're a bear, your mate EXPECTS you to wake up grumpy.  He EXPECTS that you will have hairy legs and excess body fat.

Yup.  I wanna be a bear.
-- Author Unknown

I think it's the time of year.  Hibernating always sounds pretty good to me come the start of November.  There is less light each day, and I've never cared for getting up before sunrise.  Even less so this year.  I get up, but I REALLY don't wanna.

On the plus side, I had enough energy this weekend to complete a couple of my fifteen minute tasks.  You know the ones I'm talking about.  There's this little something that needs doing.  Every time you look at it, you think, I should take a few minutes and get that done.  But then, you procrastinate, and don't do it again today, and the next thing you know, it's been sitting undone for 4-6 months.  Finally, it bugs you enough that you do it, and you find it took about fifteen minutes to finish, and you think, "why didn't I just take time and DO IT six months ago?"  Those tasks.  (I finished two of them.  I'm quite proud of myself.)

I talked to a friend of mine in New Jersey yesterday.  He said it looks like a disaster zone out there.  He was waiting in line for gas.  The good news is that he was the sixth car in line.  The bad news was that the tanker wasn't due for another three hours, and he'd already been waiting an hour.  Yowza!  It's the little stories which bring home to me the scope of the devastation of the storm.  Four hours for gas?  In New Jersey?  Where no one goes anywhere without climbing in their car?  Now, that's bad.  My prayers reach to all those who suffered serious damage in the storm; who are without homes and cars.  Especially for those who don't have insurance...

It makes me scared.  What damage have we wrought to the world around us that these once-in-a-lifetime storms are happening once every five years?  I just hope it's not too late to change course, and that we will have the courage to make the hard choices necessary to make the change.

Hard Goodbyes, Continued

Catholic Cemetery, St. Augustine, FL

I'm not surprised I ended my week with the crud.  It's more than a cold, not as bad as the flu.  Just enough to have me hunkering down with a kleenex box, some warm soup and a good book all weekend.

For me, there's a definite link between stress and illness.  It's not always true, but it's amazing how often I come down with something during or just after a stressful week.  And, for me, last week definitely qualified as stressful.

Charlie's funeral on Monday was a wonderful sendoff for a sweet man.  As his fourteen year-old son stood at the front and read, with clear eyes and voice, a poem his dad had written for him, I was blubbering in the back of the room.  As they stated so well in his obit, 'his leaving has left a Charlie-sized hole in the universe that will be hard to fill'.  I will miss him.  But, I think, I hope, I pray that his parting won't leave a void as big in the lives of his children as Mom's did in mine.  Young Mack will not need to take on the sort of responsibilities that I did - his mother will be able to support him, he will be able to finish living his teenage years as a teen.  A teen keenly missing his Dad's strong and steady guide light, but a teen all the same.  

Walter's mother's funeral later in the week was a different kind of sad.  Here was a woman who had lived long and loved well.  While the sting of parting was still there - it's always hard to say goodbye to those we love - there was more of a sense of a job well done; a life well-completed before she moved on to those distant shores.

So many goodbyes, so many tears.  So much laughter and smiling through the tears because of the joy of having known these good people.  I've always been told death is not the end; that we will meet those we love again.  I can only hope so.  Because I already have a TON of stories saved up that I'd love to share...

Goodbyes Are Hard

Lake of the Ozarks, 2009

I found two quotes worth adding to my list of 'quotes I'd like to try to remember' relating to death this week.  Apropos, since its chill touch has touched my life and the lives of those I love twice more this past week:

The late F.W.H. Myers used to tell how he asked a man at a dinner table what he thought would happen to him when he died. The man tried to ignore the question, but on being pressed, replied: "Oh well, I suppose I shall inherit eternal bliss, but I wish you wouldn't talk about such unpleasant subjects."

-Bertrand Russell, philosopher, mathematician, author, Nobel laureate (1872-1970)

We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so the moment after death. 

-Nathaniel Hawthorne, writer (1804-1864)

Charlie, the friend I wrote about last week, died this past Wednesday.  His lungs finally quit.  His daughter, who had gone back to college that morning, got the call right after her classes let out.  She raced the three hours back to Kansas City, and got here about an hour before he died.

Walter's mother was 80-something.  She was tired, and quit eating just a couple of days before she, too, left this world for the next.

Talking to both families as I delivered cookies (when in doubt, bring food!), I was struck how we never think today will be the day.  We think there will be time to bring over those favorite stuffed green peppers next week.  And when we aren't granted that time, we are shocked and angry and feel robbed and full of regret for things left unsaid and undone; gestures unnecessary now that it's too late.

I remember the feeling when Mom was so sick.  Yes, she was sick, and was going to die soon - but not today.  So, when the news came, though it was sorta expected, I was still in shock.  I still wanted to <fill in the blank> with her.  I wanted to say I love you one more time.  I wanted to hold her hand, tell her I was sorry for all the times I hadn't been a good enough daughter, thank her for all she'd taught me while she was able.  I was relieved she was now free from the pain that had dogged her every breath, but selfishly, I wished she had waited just a few more days, so we would have been able to say good-bye.  (Her condition had turned suddenly earlier in the week, and they'd come and rushed her off in an ambulance while we, her children, looked on from a distance, scared and uncertain.  They told us we could see her soon to say what we wanted to say - but soon never came.)

Since my surgeries earlier this year, I have been more aware of the fragility of my own life - the beautiful moments are all the more precious because on another road, they might not have ever been.  Yet, already, I find myself caught in the frustrations of daily living, dwelling on the negative, forgetting to look for the Beauty that is everywhere God Is, and thus is everywhere.

God, help me to dwell not on life's frustrations, for they will always be around and screeching for my attention, but to dwell instead on life's beauty, even on those days it is not apparent.  Because I don't know when my days will be done.  And I sure would kick myself if, on that day, I'd noticed only the gray of the sky, and forgotten to note how vibrant the yellow fall leaves appeared against their drab backdrop.

Amen.

Mixed News Week

Jellyfish - Omaha Zoo

This has been a week of ups and downs.

Up - because my daughter and her fiance brought THAT BABY down to see me this past weekend.  She's so CUTE.  I'm pretty sure she misses me, if only because I gave her chocolate to bribe her into liking me.  (Hey, whatever works...)  She's walking, and learning a new word a day.  She loves to go out and to see people and places.  And, she traveled well, which bodes well for my chances of her mom bringing her down to see me again when she gets a chance.  Hectic, tiring - but I loved every minute of their visit.

Down -  I've written here before about how alcohol has affected my family.  I grieve to say it's won this latest round.  Unable to see a way past the dark cloud it brought to his life, my cousin's husband took his life this last week.  I didn't know him well - but the few times I'd met him, I'd liked him.  He leaves my cousin and two college-age boys behind to pick up the pieces and figure out how to move on without his light in their lives.  Damned drink!

And Down and Up - Today, I went to a hospital birthday celebration for a good friend whose lungs are shutting down.  I don't know exactly what's wrong with him, I didn't ask.  Whatever it is, it's not good.  In spite of that, in spite of the oxygen tubes, when I walked in, he was alight with joy as he looked at his daughter and her friends singing bluegrass music - they'd come down from Nebraska for a  birthday surprise.  What a wonderful gift, what beautiful love.

It's all brought just a bit of much-needed perspective to my musings.  The cycle of life, brightened by family and love, darkened by despair and loss.  "It is what it is", as my oxygen-tethered friend told me.  No guarantees, except that death will one day visit us all.  There's joy between here and there.  Sometimes it's hard to find, and sometimes it arrives smiling and playing a fiddle like there's not a cloud in the world.

Dale - May you now see clearly.  May you rest safely in the arms of God.  May your time be filled with Light and the presence of God's Peace.

Charlie - Thank you for reminding me once again to look for and savor Joy - whenever it happens to stop in for the day.

People Everywhere!

Flamingos - Omaha Zoo - Oct 2012

It is slowly dawning on me that part of my problem with fatigue may very well stem from the fact my office got moved this summer.

I used to have a private office; now I'm tucked into the back corner of the tech room.

I don't mind the change - it actually works a bit better with my workflow, but it does mean I no longer have any modicum of privacy or alone time during the work day.

From the time I get there until I leave, there are people about.  My student worker for the day is generally waiting at the door when I come in.  My partner in tech, who shares the office, comes in around nine the three days a week she works.  There are students studying in the front part of the room for much of the day.  Staff members, teachers and students stop by with questions or just to say hi.

I spent the previous fifteen years of my work life working independently - for much of that time, from home.  Then, I got into the camper van, and spent another five months alone on the road.

And I wonder why I'm tired now that I'm spending all day, every day, with people?  I know there are those who thrive on the presence of others, but for me, people take energy, even when I'm not pre-tired, which is rare these days.  (It's not all draining - one of the students perks up when he sees me, gets a huge smile on his face and gives me a big hug - I always get a lift from those interactions.)

I saw my oncologist last week.  He says I'm looking great and that all my blood numbers look good.  (Yay!)  There's no obvious reason for me to be so tired.  While it annoys me that there's not some magical pill he can give me to fix it, in some ways I find it comforting.  It means that the fatigue I still fight daily is most likely just a result of overdoing it after surgery; nothing nasty is underlying the exhaustion.  Which means, if I continue my campaign to get to bed early, I should begin to have more energy soon. Especially if I can figure out a way to snag a few minutes of alone time during the workday.

I Want to Run Away!

All this week, I've been wanting to run away.

Monday night, I found myself plotting and scheming.  If I work until my contract ends on July 1, and I raid the fund I reserved for the down payment on my next house, I could climb back into the camper van for the six months still OWED to me by the Universe, and ...

My inner two year-old is pouting big time, but I've had to veto this scheme of hers.

You see, there's a big difference between leaving and running away.

When I left in the camper van last fall, I was taking a break.  I'd thought through what I really wanted to do with my time for the next year - and that was to 'do' nothing.  I wanted to be; I wanted to rest.

I did all of that for too short a spell - and had a glorious time.

If I left again this next summer, I'd be running from I'm not sure what.  From my cancer.  From car payments and bills.  From responsibility.  From getting up to the beep of the alarm each day.

It sounds good on the surface.  Really good.  Unfortunately, life has shown me that running away doesn't work so well in the long run.  My troubles have an uncanny knack for following me if I run; sneaking around from behind and then laying themselves across the path in front of me, so I stumble across them just when I think I've left them in the dust.  I have yet to come to peace with an issue by not facing it; by running from whatever lesson life is trying to teach me.  For me to resolve my problems and move on, I have to face them.

I hate that part.

I don't want to be grown up and responsible.  I want to believe in greener grass and that life on the other side of the mountain is better than life here could ever be.  But, I don't.  I guess it's part of that elusive gift of wisdom that theoretically comes with growing older.  Or, maybe, it's nothing so venerable as wisdom.  Maybe, I've just made enough mistakes to know when I'm about to get burned, and have learned to avoid the flames.

Either way, I don't think I'll be throwing all the cards up in the air again -- at least, I won't be doing it next year.  Another few years down the road, and I may well be singing a new song...

Now, That's Better!

Today, I finally had both the time and the energy to finally exercise again, after ten weeks on the wagon.

My shoulders haven't been so happy in over a month - and tonight, for the first time in ages, my muscles won't be complaining as I go to bed.

It'll take me a while to regain my exercise addiction, but today's fix felt great!  Instant antidepressant.

It's been a good weekend.

I got to sleep in both days.  (That almost qualifies it as a good weekend right there.)
I got my house cleaned, and aired out (thanks to the cool breeze coming through).
I got my laundry and grocery shopping done.  (Aren't I just the best little do-bee?)
I saw friends, went for walks, and thoroughly enjoyed this first day of autumn.
I read a good murder mystery (an excellent way to take one's mind of one's problems, if I do say so myself).

I can even contemplate going into work tomorrow without wanting to crawl under the bed and stay there.

I've spent some time just thinking.  Same old stuff.  Who am I and where am I going?  Do I know?  Am I going where I want to go?  The scare of the cancer's subsided for now - what do I want to do with these next few years of my life?

My cancer has given me a new awareness that continued healthy living is not a given.  As much as I don't like to think about it, cancer comes back, and no one (yet) know why.  Given all that, am I spending my life in a manner such that, if I found it had come back tomorrow, I would be content with how I had spent the last healthy days I had?

As awful as it sounds, and as much as I hate to admit it, part of me just wishes it would come back, and I could deal with the reality instead of my fears.  Reality, I can face head on and fight.  Fears, whispers and rumors are hard.  If my hip aches, is it bone cancer, or just that I stretched it too far?  If I cough, is it lung cancer, or just a side-effect of my allergies?  I do tend to dwell on the sane and easy answers, but the fear still lurks in the background.

I have a good friend who's just celebrated her one-year anniversary after diagnosis.  Unlike my cancer, hers has stolen the greater part of her life.  They've treated it aggressively with chemo, but while the tumors shrink each time - and when they don't, they switch up chemo regimes - she has yet to be declared even temporarily cancer-free.  The side-effects of the chemo have cost her much - she is yet unable to return to work, and some of the damage from the side effects will never go away.

Why her and not me?

I know - some things are not for us to know.  But it still doesn't make sense, dammit!  It's just not fair!

Be still,
and know,
that I am God.

stop.  breathe.  relax.

anyways.

Boundaries

I'm working on this concept of reestablishing my boundaries at work, and for the most part it's working.

Last week, I left on time two out of three days, and the third was one of those days that just happens in IT where something breaks near the end of the day, and you need to stay and fix it.

Especially if you plan, as I did, on leaving town the next morning.

I went to Minnesota last weekend.  Even though the drive was long, it was worth it to get my baby fix in.

She's SO CUTE!  She's started walking, hands held out, ready to catch herself when she falls, which she does with some frequency.  Thresholds are a challenge, cornering will come next, but neither daunts her.  She just picks herself up and moves on.

Oh, I also saw much of the rest of my family at a gathering for my stepmother, who made one of her rare but welcome appearances in town.  I talked fast, ate a lot, was glad to see and be seen, and felt like I didn't get to spend enough time with anyone - typical for me at our family gatherings.  I leave wishing I could have spent just a few more minutes with this person and that, hearing just a bit more about what's going on in their lives.  Did I mention that baby was also there?  She was SO CUTE!

Dang, but it was hard to drive away Sunday afternoon, knowing it'll be 2-3 months before I see her again, and I'll have to start all over again to earn her trust.  Fortunately for me, her mother rarely lets her have chocolate, which means she's easily bribed.

For whatever reason, until I returned home, I'd blocked my annual remembrance of Mom's death.  She died 35 years ago on 9/7.  I think it struck just a little too close to home this year.  I want my cancer story to have a different ending - but the beginnings are awfully similar.  Cancer that looks very treatable, removed and apparently gone.  There are a number of key differences - Tamoxifen is a big one.  The drug helps keep the cancer from establishing itself anywhere else, and wasn't yet available when she got sick.  But it still scares me - her bone cancer seemed to come out of nowhere, just about the time she was out of the woods.  I don't think I'll truly breathe easily until I've passed that magic five-year mark - a mark she didn't come close to reaching.

So here's to being healthy enough to make the drive to MN, so I could celebrate family and life and chances to see babies just learning to walk.  Now, if I can keep me leaving work on time for the next few weeks, I may even begin to regain some of my energy.

So Tired!

OK.  I think I pushed it just a bit too far.

In the five weeks I worked between returning to school after my surgery and Labor Day weekend, I put in a little over 80 hours of overtime.

I was driven - I wanted to get those iPads ready to go.  And I did it.

But I'm not so sure my doctors would approve.  I know my body doesn't.

During the week of 12-hour days when we were distributing the iPads, I  hit the proverbial wall, and I hit it hard.  Even though I spent the entire Labor Day weekend just lying about, I'm still beat.  Since I can't feel any pain in my chest, it's easy to forget that it's still trying to heal from some pretty major surgery.  I've followed the letter of the 5lb rule, but not the law.

So, it's time to sit back and reestablish some boundaries.  I started today, by leaving work on time.  I need to realize the work isn't going to go anywhere and there are no prizes for killing myself trying to get it done.  In fact, most people won't even notice.  The only thing I'm going to get if I push it too hard is an exhausted and rebellious body.

Other than that, how am I healing?

For the most part, pretty well.  The latest indignity is that the healing tissues have begun to itch, and while I am certainly aware of the itch, I can't feel the scratch, because there are no nerve endings in my skin!  The nerve! (so to speak)  I just about took my skin off the other night, trying to get at it.  Fortunately for my tender skin, I figured out that if I rub hard on the itch, it does ease it.

The restriction on stretching has my upper body all out of whack.  And while I don't miss the actual process of exercising, I do miss being done - exercise is my favorite antidepressant.

I hope to see the doctor next week and get cleared to begin moving again.

In the meantime, I need to remember:
Stop.
Breathe.
Relax.