Chapter Forty

February 12, 2010

The sun. I do so love the sun. Strange though coming from a girl that worships the rain. Can you be a fan of both? Can you love them both? For completely different reasons, I have a relationship with each of them. The rain gets me when I wish to be hidden and dark, when I like to look from my window and see the torment of the world outside from the safety inside. Despite the chaos of a storm I can’t help but feel cleansed when it is over and am somehow more willing to begin anew.
But the sun, the sun!! I am happy in the sun. I turn my face towards the light and feel myself bloom. It’s funny…my daughter loves the flowers of Hawaii as I do but on our first trip to Maui she developed a “relationship” a “story” with many of them. The Plumeria which fell from the trees in abundance were gathered in the morning dew and collected in baskets where she lined them up and assigned them names and personalities…but the real star of the show was her friend Hibiscus (Biscus). I can’t say that I blame her and I was delighted to see on this most recent trip to Kona that her friendship remained intact. There is a fascination on both her part and mine regarding the flower that only blooms in the light. I can’t help but type that with a smile on my face. On a bush in the shade it waits for the sun and as the light touches each blossom it unfurls its petals. They unwrap slowly until they are bathed in light completely and ready to greet the day. It’s perfection of course for so many other reasons but somehow that detail is charming. I can relate to Campbell’s friend Biscus. As I sit here in the sun listening to the crash of the surf in front of me I think about Biscus and how I feel the same way in the sunlight…somehow so much more willing to open myself up and bloom.


There are lots of opportunities to recreate here which I always appreciate and I decided that if I had been born with a little athletic ability and in a warm climate I might have aspired to be a professional tennis player, as it is, logging camp born and bred in a rainforest, I suck. When Shawn and I played we spent more time apologizing to the people in the courts next to us than actually playing (we also nailed a few cars in the parking lot next door) but we were in motion and that counts. Shawn knew that when the score got too close all he had to do was start pretending he was running with splints on his legs while shrieking: “Run Forest! Run!” and I would double over in a fit of hysteria.

One bit of trivia that was new for me was that I enjoy the game of golf. Not only do I look positively fetching in my golf “garb” I can also tell you that on a regular basis I connected with the ball. Ahem…the thing is…I’m not saying the ball got air and I’m also not saying that it went far but a couple of things that I think are worth noting are: 1) Don’t bother renting me a cart…I have to walk the whole way anyway since my ball never travels far enough to warrant a motor and 2) who ever invented the sand pit area is a real asshole. Oh wait! I forgot! I lied…I did get air. Once. I was pretending to be Adam Sandler in Happy Gilmore and I charged the ball. Yes, the ball got air…it hit a tree (probably maimed a peacock) but still…I’m a natural.


The art of compromise is a funny thing….I keep thinking about it this week. Are you less than you were before if you bend in ways you had never hoped to? I wonder. Are those the bitter ones in the end? I’m not posing the question because I came up with the answer and now I’m going to deliver it in a dramatic/poetic fashion… Uhhhh….No…I got nothing for ya. Nothing. I really want to know though, do you think the bitter people, the ones who suck energy from the Universe and offer darkness are the ones who have just compromised too much in their lives or at least feel that they have and so in the end become angry at all that they think they’ve lost? I suppose they don’t call it an art for nothing. I hear myself as I speak to the kids…”it’s not always about you…it’s not always best to be right…..it’s not always best to leave the game with all of the marbles”….But when you compromise you give something up that was important to you and at what point did you give so much that it stopped being you anymore? But then taking ourselves out of a comfortable zone helps us change in ways that may have once sounded unbearable but become noticeably less traumatic over time. Is that compromise? Growing up, changing, settling, adjusting….I guess I think about it as I get older with all of my relationships…


I’ll be honest, today I’m thinking about it because of a lizard. Seriously. Nothing as deep and profound as that right? I realized that there is a Ghecko crawling around my foot and even though I started to get up and formed a shrill scream in my throat I actually realized that my fear of all things slimy is somehow mitigated by my surroundings and I am able to move past it (could be the beer). Maybe I haven’t discovered the art of compromise with the creepy crawlies…maybe I’m just drunk. No…now that I think about it I am much more tolerant of bugs here too. I’m pretending the cockroaches are beetles and someday when Campbell reads this she is going to be PISSED. Trevor keeps ratting me out and demanding that I tell her the truth but I’m not going to do it and he can’t make me, because whenever she sees a huge cockroach in the driveway she starts to freak but then I assure her that it is a beetle and she is instantly calmed. Listen the older I get the more I understand how even a little lie can become a big one and the truth is best etc. etc. etc. Yep…I get it…I get it. But I am NOT telling my daughter she spent her vacation talking to a cockroach named George. It was a beetle.




Do you know something I have recently discovered about myself that honestly gets on my nerves? I recently discovered that I retreat when injured. I do it with all of you, just so you know for future reference. If I am injured I hide. Ever since I realized I was doing it I decided it was a disgusting habit worth working on…at the very least a session or two with a counselor but then I was thinking about it today when Shawn found a chameleon and played with it for so long it started bleeding and then died. Please don’t get me wrong. For those of you who don’t know my son well, he is a lovely boy. Really. I don’t get to write about him enough because he is a bit of a fleeting image. There are copious amounts of photos of my dolly but each year less and less of my boychild. As he gets older I feel closer to him but oddly enough, my stories and photos don’t reflect that. He is just constantly in motion and very hard to pin down at times either for a discussion or a photo op. The sole BEAUTIFUL photo taken of him last year by our family photographer, Chuckybaby, was done under duress. When Chucky gifted us with the photo I asked him in amazement how he managed to get Shawn to stand still AND refrain from ruining the photo with a tortured expression. Shawn piped up: “He threatened to break my face if I moved.” I should note here that Chuckybaby is closer to the 7 foot mark than the average bear so that threat coming from Chucky was probably a bit daunting. Anyway my son is really a gentle soul and he didn’t mean to cause harm to his new lizard friend so when it was dropped and began bleeding from his arm pit and then died Shawn was a bit shaken up. As a parent I think it’s my job to make him acknowledge that playing with something until it dies is probably not the most sound decision and revolting though they are I still imagine that God takes pride in his more creative treasures. After saying all of that I think it is also my job as a mom to make it better: “Listen honny….don’t let it freak you out…put it on a leaf and maybe it’ll perk up in a day or two…at any rate..it's not the end of the world...(well, maybe his world)....errr...ahem...go get a soda and hit the pool.”
1) Guilt Trip – Check
2) Gods creations are not to be destroyed – Check
3) Get over it – Check

After Shawn hit the pool I went and looked at the tragedy at hand. Yep, Definitely dead, eyes glossed over and staring straight ahead, bleeding, and stiff as a board. Uh huh. Definitely dead.
But the interesting thing was he sat like that for two days and then he blinked. I’m not joking…he really blinked and slowly started to move. We looked back later and he was gone. I started thinking this whole retreat when injured theory is possibly not such a bad idea. What’s wrong with taking a moment, a day, a year to gather ones wits…stop the bleeding…if enough time passes…you blink…and then you stretch in the sunlight…and you move on.

Okay…here’s the last rambling thought for this vacation…my oncologist appointment in January went Great!! I’m healthy!!! But it dawned on me that there are worse things in the Universe than a sign that says: Swedish Cancer Institute and a day filled with angst and blood draws and discussions of lymph nodes and scars etc..Yep..there are worse things in Julieville. I’m not speaking for everyone, but for this little country bumpkin, I can officially say that an afternoon spent getting a check- up is NOT as stress provoking as say…..(Shannon you know what’s coming)…running out of gas while getting onto I-5 from downtown Seattle at rush hour…that could possibly be considered a worse way to spend my time. It may have been a BMW and it may have been filled with shopping bags of sassy shoes but the bottom line is when you are stalled on I-5 and people who don’t know you want to kill you because you are somehow ruining their dinner plans…that is a bad day. Luckily help was not too far behind and this damsel in distress was saved because otherwise Buddy I would have walked away from your car and hitched a ride back to Pacific Place where my ass belonged and ordered a cocktail. And that is the truth. 
Inspiration? A bikini, a beer, the Biscus and a spirit that feels as though it is blooming again, after a very long retreat.
j

Chapter Thirty Nine

January 15 2010

OMG! I love it when something moves me. Inspires me…causes action…laughter…a tear…a memory...movement right? It’s all about the things in my life that move me I think. Music has always been a sure thing for me in that respect. To this day I can hear John Cougar and picture my sister and I as little girls sitting in a trailer playing cards…I can hear Indigo Girls and think of road trips in college with my girlfriends and dreaming about a life yet unlived. As I write today I keep playing a new song that causes me to move and I LOVE that.
A couple of you have requested “a catch up” since I didn’t write much last year. Though I posted a Chapter about my upcoming documentary adventure in September, I didn’t follow up with a Chapter letting you know how it went. Here’s the best I can do with a short version:
The film: Survive and Thrive by Affinity Films was a blessing and a gift that only God could have orchestrated with relation to the timing and being exactly what I needed exactly when I needed it. The most I can say is that I was honored to be accepted in a room full of amazing women. Every single one of them has such a story to tell, crosses to bear, scars to reveal. True of every woman I think, but I could relate to each of them in a very profound way and so somehow managed to allow myself to be moved by how beautiful they were….so open…so strong and I was honored…HONORED to be in their presence.

There was a bonus…not only was my experience with the other survivors amazing, but the crew left their mark as well. Not having any experience with filmmaking it was fascinating to see how the process worked and how much effort is involved in the final product. Anyhoo – the trailer is done and can be viewed on the website…affinityfilms.org under the breast cancer support link – Click on: The Club: Survivors to Thrivers and then click Find out More and then View Trailer. It’s also on Youtube but I don’t have the foggiest idea about how to give you the link to that. I hope to attend the screening when it is released in Anchorage and hope to have it screened in our fabulous community as well. The idea behind the film is to tell real women’s stories about their processes…the hope,laughter, and truth about breast cancer and include information from medical experts as well. The original plan was to make it available to women who have been recently diagnosed as a resource, sort of girlfriends guide to B/C. I have so much I want to say about my participation in this documentary but realize that attempting to do so somehow invalidates the experience…I would say instead, it was amazing…it was a blessing…it has helped me heal.

And now for the burning question that many of you asked: No, I did not wear sequins during my interview. I really was afraid that if I died Campbell would spend the rest of her life dressing like a drag queen in an attempt to honor her mother so I went for something more sedate…a cop out? Maybe, but for the record it was ALL Betsey, right down to my stockings and underoos. Betsey all the way Baby and don’t you forget it! No matter what anyone tells you about being overdone or overdressed or failed attempts to blend.
Other news in my journey with the destruction on my chest is that I have scheduled what is (I hope) my last and final surgery with regard to this wreckage. I shared with you a year ago that the surgery I had then to reconstruct me didn’t go as planned since the attempt to harvest “good” fat was not successful and so the surgery was considered a failure. At the time my surgeon God Bless her suggested we try again but I declined and took a much needed time out.
Okay, so here’s what has been thumping around in my head this week. It’s about balance right? The ever elusive “balance” dream. I’ve been spending a lot of time working towards it…balancing work and kids and relationships and spirituality and creativity and exercise. Balance right? Well for the life of me I don’t know that I’m ever going to achieve it…just when I look back at my week with satisfaction and think: “I did it!” I find that the next week is ridiculously off kilter… no exercise or too much..no kid time but lots of work time…no work time but lots of kid time etc…UGHHHH!!! And I think I am NEVER going to get this life right. But what if life was never supposed to be about the finished product what if it was about the time spent while TRYING to get it right? And what is so great about the “right” version of us anyway?

So I’ve been weighing my choices with getting my destruction “right”. I’m healthy and healed so I should just leave it. I mean how important is revising a scar, creating a nipple, fixing a hole created by the removal of tissue, is it important really? No, in the big picture not important at all, but in the little picture, the little picture that is my life, the way I view my body, the way I know others view it too…yes, it’s the little picture but I can’t help but want to make it right. See the truth, the real truth…Is that I know how bad it looks. Not to my surgeons and physicians, my oncologists, those who know what it looked like when the tissue was first removed. They look at my chest and proclaim it “beautiful”, “amazing”, a “victory”…but there are those who love me and would never choose to hurt me who have looked me in the eye and admitted how bad it really does look. How painful is that information to take out and look at in broad daylight? Yes, that one will leave a mark. So the truth, the real truth is that yes, I have survived cancer but I am still left with wreckage that I don’t recognize as mine when I look down at it. Oh God, is that me?
So I’m thinking that the trick to balancing the right decision for me is to thank my surgeon for a job well done and try one more time. It could be so much worse. From nothing, she created something and I am grateful. I accept that one side can be revised and one side, the side that the cancer was removed from can never be… in removing as much tissue and skin as they could, they potentially saved my life. I’m not stupid. My life is worth more than the scar so I’ll take it and someday I think I will look at it and recognize it as part of me. The decision to try one more time though dreadful is a balanced one for me. Fix what we can, leave what we can’t and know that we did what we could…trivial to some, but the right decision for me.
In terms of updating you guys on how I am doing, my check -ups have been good so far and FINALLY my energy level is reminiscent of what it once was. My inability to regulate temperature still drives me NUTS and my memory loss is just stupid. How’s that for articulate? But I was hopeful this Christmas when for the first time in a couple of years the kids got exactly what they wanted for Christmas from Santa. Shawn wanted a frog, Campbell wanted a dog. Normally, requests for live beings have been summarily dismissed by Santa but this year the kids found what they hoped for under the tree and I found that somehow inspiring. A sign of movement yes? Up until now the thought of attempting to keep one more creature alive…one more family member fed, clothed, vaccinated, and emotionally stable, was so overwhelming it bordered on revolting. This year clearly that fat, old, elf in a red suit had faith that I could be trusted to take on another being and I found that inspiring. Exhausting at the moment actually….and a little humorous. I’m beginning to think Santa’s decision or interpretation of the “frog” request was a little broad as he inadvertently purchased the only frog in creation that has teeth and when grown can actually eat small rodents. Good God, we’re encouraging Campbell to keep her puppy away from the frog.
My morning routine now includes conversations such as these:
”Shawn Patrick I found a cricket this morning next to the fireplace…can you please tell me how that might have occurred.?” “Uh….well…you know how you said the crickets have to live in the basement because they are disgusting and make you vomit? Well I was just thinking they might be lonely down there so I moved them up to my room but I may have accidentally lost a few before I fed them to the frog……sort of…maybe…”
“Campbell Rose, honny, you have to stop squeezing that baby so hard. She bites you because your version of hugging her is actually asphyxiating the poor creature. Please put your puppy down.”
“Mom she likes it.”
“No, I don’t think she does like it and when you carry her in a head lock I think she actually hates it which is why she runs when she sees you coming.”
Inspiration?…honestly, you guys know I’m a big fan of anything that can manage to make me laugh out loud and these little creatures, the two that God has blessed me with plus the two most recent additions bring me real joy in a day and I’m grateful for the distraction from real life worries. My comment to the kids on Christmas morning while they did a victory dance around the tree was: “Santa has lost his everlovin mind. If he shows up here later for coffee and Bailey’s, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind and tell that chubby man he needs to use more sense next year.” But interestingly enough, sitting here now, with a great song playing and a puppy cuddled up in the folds of my robe, I wonder if Santa may know a little more than I do about what people truly need and I wonder who really got the best gift this year…something tells me it was me.
j