So many changes

This past year has brought so many changes.
So many endings.
So many new beginnings.

I have trouble with the new beginnings and get stuck on the endings though.

But in summary: the oldest is a freshman at college and living on campus, the middle child is in high school, and the youngest stopped homeschooling and is at the local junior high.

For the first time in 19 years, I don't have a child home all day with me.

Um, what?

I always knew the day would eventually come. I mean, after all, the whole point of raising children is so that they can get to a point where they would spread their wings and fly. But it came in the fall and I was absolutely, with a doubt, completely unprepared for it.

I always imagined when that day came, it would be more celebratory. Like I'd go out and party and do all the things and tackle all the to do lists and have so much fun celebrating freedom.

Turns out, it wasn't quite like that.

Firstly, I was still so tired. Frankly, I'm still too tired. I did actually make a to-do list called "All the things I will do when the kids are out of the house." I believe I crossed one thing off. Oops!

Secondly, it's not like my kids were packing up and leaving for good. And, even college aged kids still need their mamas. So kids being physically gone during the day doesn't mean they are emotionally gone.

But really, I was stuck. I was stuck in the endings.
I was stuck in homeschooling ending.
I was stuck in my oldest's childhood ending.
I was stuck in my role as a stay-at-home-mom ending.
I was stuck in my role as a care giver ending.

So much change. So fast. All at once.

I don't handle change well, and when it seems like EVERYTHING is changing, I kind of just shut down and get lost.

It's been 9 months. We are nearing the end of the school year. If this was a pregnancy, I'd be gearing up to give birth now.

I'm not quite there - I'm not ready 100% okay with everything that has changed. I'm still mourning some things, but it is getting better. I'm doing a better job of remember all the new beginnings.

But it's so hard. It's just so hard. I'm trying. I'm moving faster than frozen molasses, but slowly, I'm getting there.

Not hiding anymore

So. I've had a few thoughts.
1. Come back and delete my last post
2. Never come back again and just leave it there.
3. Delete it and then never come back to this blog.

But, here I am. Writing again. With the last post still up.

It helps that google tells me 20 people came to the post, which I figure means 1 person maybe read more than 2 sentences. So, still feeling pretty safe.

But, it's there. And I'm leaving it.

I suppose for the one person who reads more than the first two sentences, I should maybe explain a bit about where all of this is coming from. Because this year has been such a year of change - and if I listed it all out, it would probably cause me an anxiety attack.

That said, I'll start with this. In the fall, we lost granny. And my heart still aches because of it. I still feel lost. I still miss her. I still sometimes wake up and start to get things ready for her. When I'm out, I still have moments when I can't wait to get home to tell her about them.

The grief at times feels overwhelming. The ache of missing her feel overwhelming. I'm not alone in this, I know. And yet, at times I feel so alienated and alone. I don't why other than to say that sometimes my brain is a big jerk and lies to me. And even though I know this, I sometimes don't believe it and believe my jerky brain.

Anyway, I'm going to try to not hide anymore. So hopefully, you'll see me back here soon.

Actually, I'm Not Okay

How are you doing? People ask, because people are nice.
I'm fine! I'm great! I'm doing okay! I reply, trying to be bubbly and upbeat.
I tell myself over and over you are okay, you can do this, smile, be happy, everything is okay

But you know what?
I'm not okay.

I'm just not.

The past year has been a whirlwind of change, bad news, good news, endings, new beginnings, stretching, growing, grief, and change.

Those of you who know me well, know I don't handle change well in the best of times - even if it's good change. Now is a time of change and much of it is enveloped in grief.

I know I haven't blogged here in forever. I did have grand plans. I did have ideas. I did have good intentions. But I was tired, and weary, and felt like I didn't have anything to say. And so there are many gaps in this story, in my story, on this blog.

How does one come back from all those gaps? I don't know, but I'm going to see if I can find a way.

And for now, I'm not okay. I'm tired. I'm overwhelmed. I'm grieving.

I'm also doing. I'm stretching. And I'm growing.

And thus the dichotomy of life keeps on going. I'm still learning to balance it. You'd think by now, I'd be an expert, but no. I'm still here, trying to get through each days. Some are easier than others.

I'm here. And I have faith that I'll be okay. But for now, I'm not okay.

Welcome 2018

Today is January 1.
Even though yesterday was a day. And tomorrow will be just a day, today feels so special, doesn't it?
It's the start of the new year.
It's a time to make resolutions.
It's a time to purge things you don't need from your house (forget spring cleaning. If my facebook friends are any indication, this is the new time to clean house).
It's time to set intentions.
And words of the year.
And themes for the years.
It is an exciting time for sure.

It is also a time for reflection.
To think about the year that has just finished.
Was a good one? Was it a bad one?
What were the best moments?
What things do we want to carry into the new year with us, and what things can we not wait to just be over and in the past.

I, personally, have really high hopes for 2018.
I want it to be a year of fun and wonderful things.
It will also be a year with a lot of changes in it, that mostly come in the second half, but yet, I find myself bracing for them now.
Despite that, I also want 2018 to be a year of internal peace for me.
I want calmness.
I am craving connections.
I am hopeful for a good year ahead.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like the upcoming year could be a great one.

At the end of 2017, I got some of my pain under control. Which is the most amazing gift of all that 2017 gave me.

As 2018 begins, I am in less pain. I am taking less medication. I feel hope.

I used to joke that I didn't even wish for great days, I would be happy with okay days.

I have reached okay days. Now, I'm aiming for good days. Let's hope that 2018 is the year of good days. And maybe just a smattering of great days thrown in for an extra bonus.

I know someone will be shaking their head and yelling AIM HIGHER. It's not that I don't want to aim for the stars and all that jazz. Good days are my stars though. I am aiming high, but it's my high. It probably looks different for you, and that's good. Because this is all about personalization!

That said, I'm glad to see 2018 arrive. I'm glad to see 2017 end. I'm also a bit sad. The year wasn't all bad, and we did create some very lovely memories this past year. Thank goodness we don't have all our memories wiped out at the start of the new year.

So, all of this to say: Welcome 2018. I have high hopes for this year. I have fun projects I'm working on. And I can't wait to see where this year takes me.

Naturally, I do hope to return to blogging this year! And I hope that you'll forgive my very long absence and that you'll join me on the fun ride I've got coming this year.

Happy New Year!
Brandie

Middle School Memories

Me, 7th grade
My 14yo says I look like Hermione Granger.
I don't agree, but I'll take it anyway!

When I was young, I moved around schools a lot. Between 4th and 5th grade, we moved and I entered a new school district and went to the local elementary school. From there, I went to the 6th grade center (yes, one building that only had 6th grade classes in it!). And that was followed by a move to the middle school.

After 7th grade, we moved again, so I switched districts for 8th grade.

When I moved, I didn't keep in touch with my friends. There was no e-mail back then, we didn't even have AIM (if you're old enough to remember that LOL). A few years ago, thanks to Facebook, I reconnected with some people from those middle school (ish) years.

They are having a reunion this weekend, and it didn't work out for me to attend, but none the less, I was thinking about how those years have helped shaped me. I've never sat down and thought about things like this before, so it was kind of interesting how many memories just came flooding back!  Some are really small and trivial things, but some are kind of big.

* I made 2/3rds of my kids (and the third one soon) read Bridge to Terabithia because I remember Ms. Williams (I think) crying as she read the ending of the book to our class.

* I can sing the Greek alphabet thanks to my 6th grade main teacher

* In 6th grade we had a teacher's aid for our team (that was three classes/teachers). She taught me and another girl Sarah to french braid our hair. She probably taught more, but for some reason, I can only remember Sarah french braiding hair with me. Sarah's mom had recently passed away. As I look back with adult eyes, I know she taught us to french braid as a way to get us to talk in a way that didn't feel like talking. I use that as a parent a lot. 

* I sing songs like Waltzing Matilda (6th grade), Sesame Street medleys (7th grade), and I'm Proud to Be an American. I also sing Steve Martin's King Tut because our art teacher - Ms. Freak - would play it sometimes during art class as background music.

* Speaking of art, some of the projects I made with Ms. Freak and in my 7th grade art class (and I can't remember her name!) I have since made with my kids. One example is paper mosaics I did in class and then did with my kids. My one daughter did it as a 4H project for our county fair one year. 

* In 7th grade we had to learn sentence diagramming in our language arts class. I teach my children that now. I couldn't remember any of it though and had to relearn it. My oldest can probably already say she forgot it all now, but I tried. Like my teacher tried. But we used to joke that our teacher looked like ET. We all liked her though, so we weren't trying to be mean. One day she told us one of her favorite movies was ET. I have no idea if it actually was, or somehow she knew we thought that and said that to kind of mess with us a bit. 

* For 6th and 7th grade I had to walk a mile and a half (minus like 1/2 a block) to school, uphills both ways. But no, really, I did. If we lived on the very next block I would have qualified for busing - which kicked in once you were a mile and half from the school! And our town had a "valley" in it, my house was on one "peak" and the school on the other. So I literally would go down the hill, and up the hill. 

It wasn't all lovely things though.

* I had a sleepover birthday party that was a train wreck. I invited people who I wasn't really friends with to seem more cool, they came, they weren't having fun, I cried. It was awful. But we did watch Arachnophobia and I still hate spiders.

* I took my first (and only) ride in a police car - it wasn't anything major and it was enough to scare me out of my "life of crime" and get me grounded for a really long time. I lost my parents' trust and didn't want to do that ever again. 

* In 6th grade science we had a unit learning about eyes and seeing. The teacher asked if we (people) could see in the dark. I said yes. Absolutely. I knew this down to my bones. I even convinced some people in the class to switch from the no team to the yes team. I just knew it. And .... I was wrong. It was the first time I felt something so deeply and it was wrong! That was eye opening for sure (see what I did there? And here? LOL) .

* Right before I moved I had a fight with one of my best friends. We never made up. I have no idea what the fight was about now. I can't find her on Facebook. I've asked mutual friends if they've heard from her and they haven't. I never got to say I'm sorry. And I never got to say good-bye. Pick your battles wisely. You never know when you won't get that one last chance. 

I'm sure I could think of thousands of other ways middle school (ish) affected me today. I know that we are always growing and learning, but this is probably the youngest age that I can really remember things from that have impacted me. I can't tell you much about my kindergarten years, or even 3td grade. I could repeat a few stories my mom has told me, but they aren't my memories so much as me retelling hers. 

I think moving also helps me frame things. I didn't go to 4th grade with any of these kids, or even 8th grade. So I can firmly place these memories in this age range. This is when I lived in this town. This is when it happened. I can't mix up 12 years of school with the same kids. I didn't appreciate moving honestly, and we could talk about how excruciatingly painful 8th grade was for me as I found myself in a new school and knowing basically no one. But 5th through 7th grade? I was weird, I was hyper, I was crazy, and I didn't care that much about how I was labeled for most of those years. Towards the end I started to realize there were cool kids and not cool kids. I was most decidedly a not cool kid, but I didn't know it for most of that time, so I didn't feel it. I had fun. A lot of fun!

Why do bad things happen?

(I originally posted this on my personal facebook page on June 22. In the midst of grief. Again. I had just lost another friend not too long before this. And it hurts, it just hurts so darn much. And so I just poured this out and I'm still not sure it's eloquent enough or pretty enough, but I think it's human enough and real enough that I'm sharing it here as well).

This morning a friend asked a question that was basically why do bad things happen and bad things happen to good people and why do we still look for the good in the bad. And I wanted to reply in a way that wasn't cliche or trite but was honest and real. So I thought and when I went back to share with her, I saw that she had passed away. Cancer has stolen another friend, another good person, another loving heart.

And I don't know why this happens. But I know that it just hurts so much.
And I know what I would tell Christina if she were still here. I would tell her (and what I'll tell myself right now. And what I would tell so many of you because I know others are struggling with grief and illness and pain):

Our world is imperfect and unfair. It can be so incredibly unfair that it just takes our breath away. The unfairness can make us angry and upset and want to lash out. But our world is also a world of ands.

So our world can also be beautiful and perfect and lovely. And we can find here people who are just amazing human beings down to their very core. People who are full of goodness and light.

And because we live in an unfair world that can also be beautiful, sometimes really shitty things can happen to really lovely people. And there really isn't a why.

Sometimes you can be strong and amazing and giving and loving and be in pain and have struggles and carry a burden that just feels overwhelming at best.

It's awful. But it's our and world. And you, well you handle it beautifully. And it's okay to be mad and upset and acknowledge the unfairness of it all and to some how weather the storm with a grace that really is beautiful.

I don't know the why. I don't know the how. But I know the who; I know you. And I love you and wish I could help ease your burden. Love you so very much.

Go hug someone. Go tell someone you love them. Life really is too short, even though some days it is too short and too long.

Failing

As I sit here and look around, all I can see is failure.
Every thing I think about, brings me back to failure.

I am failing.
Every. Single. Day.

Laundry done? Nope.
House cleaned? Nope.
Phone calls needed to be made? Nope.
Long term goals? Nope. Nope. And, oh yeah, nope.
That think I was supposed to remember? Forgotten about.

I am awash with failure.

I know, I know.
We all fall down.
We all make mistakes.

We just have to try again. And again. And again.
And this famous person had to do something 1 quadrillion times before they were successful!

Well, fanfuckingtabulous for them.

I am not them.
And here I stand.
Or well, sit.
Or well, lay down.

What I am good at these days?
Pain.
Being exhausted.
Pain.
Forgetting things.
Being exhausted.
Pain.
Feeling behind.
Feeling tired.
Pain.

And did I mention that I'm tired and in pain?

Because here's the thing.
I am trying so hard.
But it's so hard to try when things hurt and you're exhausted.

And there is SO much I want to do.
Things I want to help out with.
Things I want to do better with.

I swear I am trying.
I am trying so hard.
I make lists.
I forget to look at lists.
I make new lists.
I put them where I have to look.
I forget where I put them.
Then the kids need me.
Or my hands have decided to stop working.

For the record: It's really freaking hard to do things when your hands don't want to work.
Some of you are all too painfully aware of this.
Some of you have no idea what it's like to not be able to close your hands.
Want to hold a coffee cup? Not by the handle you won't!
Want to hold a pen? Ha! Good luck!
Want to knit? Nice try, but not today.

Hey, want to change the world?
Why not try getting out of bed first!

Want to bake the family a cake?
Stretch those legs out first.

Want to sit and type a blog post?
Wait for your hands to warm up.

Because I have a million things I want to do.
I have a million projects I want to accomplish around the house.
I have a million blog posts bouncing around in my head.
I want to be a better mom.
I want to not be behind on laundry.
I want to go back to the hardships I had six years ago and have those be my hardships today.
And I want the fucking hot flashes to go. far. far. far. away.

Okay. I turned a fan on and am feeling less hot flashy.
Though I still feel quite ranty.

I tried to reverse it.
You know, instead of a to-do list, I tries to make a things I accomplished list.

It sort of looked like this:
Get up.
Get granny breakfast.
Lay back down.
Listen to a podcast.
Drive kids.
Take a nap.
Wake up.
Ask kids if they ate lunch even though it was two hours ago.
Feel relieved they were smart enough to eat lunch.
Think about housework.
Take a nap.
Eat dinner.
Watch TV
Put granny to bed.
Put self to bed.

I mean, I don't mean to brag, but yes I did all of that. In one day.
But you don't even know how much effort it takes to think about doing housework.
On a good day I do some. But then I have to pick: will I vacuum or will I do laundry?
And place bets on whether or not the laundry gets folded the same day it's washed. (you'll win more money if you bet no).

Alright.
There might be a bit of hyperbole here to make a point.
But not much honestly.

To top it off I am surrounded by amazing, accomplished, literally changing the world people.
I am so excited for them.
I celebrate with them.
I know there are lots of hard moments they have to work through.
I know that often times on facebook we get the whitewashed version of life.

But, honestly? I am so jealous.
I am so jealous of all that these people are accomplishing.
I am so jealous of the fancy vacations.
I am so jealous of the big houses.
I am so jealous of the new cars.
I am so jealous of the sweet new babies.
I am so jealous of friends who have nights out every single week.

(But, I want to clarify, I know these things are earned and deserved and I do not wish for people to not have these things. I just wish I had them too).

And I sit here and I'm off to the doctor to get another test because the last one found something that might be bad.
And I'm off to another funeral because another friend is gone.
And I'm bringing another friend food after surgery.
And I'm sending another friend some goodies in the mail as new cancer treatments are started.

I realize that as hard as it is to admit, I both love and loathe my cancer community.

I love all the wonderful people in it.
I love all the friends I've made.
I love it when people can say "me too!"
I love it when I feel not alone.

I loathe I am a part of it at all.
I loathe more illness and bad news.
I loathe death and grief and mourning.
I loathe treatments and side effects. 
I loathe feeling like a failure in so many ways.

Cue sigh of frustration.
And sigh of relief.

That was a lot to get off my chest.
Sometimes venting feels so good, doesn't it?
Nothing will change in the next five minutes, except I might feel lighter for a little bit.
Which is good.
Because venting? Definitely not something I'm failing at!

CancerCon Day 1

So. It's just after midnight. I'm sitting in a dark hotel room. One roommate is sleeping, the other is still out.

And here I sit.

Exhausted to the core, and yet still unable to sleep.

Not for the usual reasons though - no anxiety, no one who needs me to take care of them. Just me, sitting here, reliving today and smiling, knowing that being here is so important to me.

Today, the first official day of CancerCon was, well in a word, awesome!

Lots of laughs, lots of hugs, so many good conversations, and at one point, I folded myself into a suitcase (more on that later).

There was a lot of fun and games today. It will, at first glance, look like CancerCon is one big party in which we all come and just hang out and have a good old time.

And we do.

But.
But.

But there is more to it in that.
In the midst of the laughter, there are tears.

We party, but we share our stories. Sometimes these stories make us laugh. Sometimes they make us cry. Sometimes the stories are currently in a good spot. Sometimes these stories do not come with a happily-ever-after-ending.

We party, but we bond. We bond with people who have had cancer. We bond with those going through treatment. We bond with people who have rare cancers. We bond with people wh have our cancer. We bond with people who take care of people with cancer. We bond with mothers. We bond with fathers. We bond with daughters. We bond with sons. We bond with husbands and wives. We bond with doctors. We bond with advocates. We bond with representatives of companies.
Sometime we bond over shared music tastes, or we find another Doctor Who fan who wants to play Pokemon Go too. We bond with someone else who pulls out some knitting. We bond with someone else who is here for the first time. We bond with people who have been to almost every Stupid Cancer conference ever.
Yes, we bond a lot.

Because there's something here so many are lacking back at home: people like us. People who had cancer but don't look like a "typical" cancer talent (whatever that is supposed to mean). We are surrounded by people who don't say "But you can't get that cancer when you're young!" Because we're all young, or we were young, or we take care of someone is young. We have freedom to say things like "fuck cancer," or "cancer brought me some good things," or even "cancer was a gift to me." We toss around names of chemo, of drugs, of number of radiations treatments. We exchange stories about doctors who suck, doctors who go above and beyond, or about that one time we puked on the cute doctor!

Some of us are bald, some have short hair, some have medium hair, some have long hair. Some of us miss our normal hair and can't wait for it to grow back and some of us have discovered that damn, we look good with short hair!

We talk about pain management, of things that hurt, of things that don't hurt anymore. We mention we are going to take a break to get a nap in and no one says things like "geese, must be nice to nap" because we all know that no one wants to actually take a nap and miss what might happen because it's fun here, but our bodies are crying for rest.

We talk about anxiety and how we are scared the cancer will come back even though it's been a year, or two, or five, or nine, or eleven.

We talk about how our cancer is progressing even with treatment and we hope that we will still be around in a year, or two, or five, or nine, or eleven.

We talk about how lemons don't cure cancer. And if they did they'd cost a lot more money and probably not sold at a supermarket.

We talk about the people who took care of us. Or the people we took care of.

We talk.
And talk.
And talk.

And we listen.
And listen.
And listen.

And from the Instagram posts or from the outside looking in, it looks like a big party. But it's so much more. It's knowing you are not alone. It's knowing you aren't the only person struggling with the issues facing you. It's not being the youngest person in the room by 20 or more years.

It's about community.
And family.
And not being alone.
And yes, sometimes it's about partying and having a good time. Which means sometimes we been ourselves into a suitcase to get the points for the scavenger hunt for our team. And it's about handing someone a tissue as their eyes fill with tears.

Because we know.
Because we get it.
Because we are linked in ways we never asked to be linked, but now that we are, we can become friends and form relationships.

And that is a wondering thing.

Just think. This is only day 1! Wonder what day 2 will hold!

Phoning it in

The last few weeks have been a bit on the rough side around here.

[side note: In what we'll call fair disclosure, there have also been some really fun and great moments as we have a French foreign exchange student, which maybe I'll blog about later!]

Anyway, there have been some not fun side effects. Higher levels of stress. And some bad news from friends and loved ones.

Boo. Hiss. Cry. Be sad.

So tonight, I'll ordered dinner. We rarely order dinner, except for pizza nights. Like, not counting pizza, I can't remember the last time I ordered dinner. But I just could. not. make. dinner. tonight.

And then I flashed to my grandmother's funeral late last summer.

My grandma was 98 years old when she passed away. She passed away in the bedroom she was born in. In the house on the farm her parents started. Eventually her and my grandfather took over.

At the funeral people were sharing memories. One of the memories shared was going to her house to wash jeans, which took a long time.

Grandma had 9 children. And a husband. On a farm.

Something really resonated with me that day, that I thought of today.

Grandma couldn't take a day off. She couldn't just decide to not make dinner. Or to wash all the jeans. Or other laundry. Or cooking food. Or all the things she had to do.

And I think about today. Where I have an electric stove, a microwave, a dishwasher, a washing machine, a dryer, a car, tons of grocery stores, only three kids, etc, etc.

Which makes me think, damn, grandma was a strong woman.
Which makes me thing, damn, I'm lazy.

Though I don't think I'm lazy.

But I wonder, did grandma ever wish she could make someone else make dinner. Did she ever call a friend or relative and say hey, today's been rough, can you help me feed all these people. Or did she serve leftovers once or twice not because it was all she had but because she didn't want to cook more food. And if she had, could she have admitted it?

What pressures were on her as a mother as the ebb and flow of life rushed on around her?

I never asked her.
I never even thought to ask her.

I wish I had, honestly.

I suppose this is a case of you didn't know what you wanted until it was gone.
Or I took for granted that she could have taken a break, or not made dinner, or skipped laundry one week.

I'll assume that when my grandma was in the throes of motherhood and had some bad days, heard bad news, got sick, that she didn't take a break. That she had to buck up and make dinner anyway.

That said, I'm glad I could literally phone in dinner tonight. And I won't take for granted the ability to do that.

I've become a commercial

Today I have to go to the doctor's and get a shot. (Boo because I hate hate hate needles. Even still. Even after being poked a million times. Still hate them!)

This shot is medicine that I'm pretty sure comes with a novel that lists the possible side effects.

I feel like I'm now one of those people in medicine commercials you laugh at. You know what I'm talking about, right? The side effect list seems to go on forever and run across the screen over-layed on a really pretty picture. And it all seems funny because the side effects seem way worse than what the medicine is treating.

Trust me, I've laughed my fair share. I've mused aloud about who would ever take the medicine because the issues seems easier than the medicine would be.

I suppose I became that person the second I took chemo. I remember thinking about how ironic it was that the doctors were telling me that another cancer was a side effect and I just couldn't wrap my mind around it. I mostly ignored it because it just too much to think about. I also understood that even though they had to tell me the side effects, there was little chance that it would actually happen to me ::knock on wood::.

But Tuesday I'm going in with my eyes wide open. I've looked on-line and read the awful horror stories. The doctors have talked to me about what could possibly happen that's pretty major. And there's more of a risk than getting cancer from chemo drugs.

People who have opinions that I seek out have said they wouldn't get the medicine if it were them. My husband isn't thrilled I'm getting it and would be very happy if I told him I changed my mind.

And yet, I'm going to let the doctor give me this shot.

I also read stories about people who had almost no side effects from it. The doctor gave me the option of another medicine and after comparing, I decided on the shot. But secretly, I'm so nervous to go. I'm worried that I'll make everything worse and compound my already stupid medical issues.

To be honest, I'm pissed I have to even need to think about this. I'm frustrated with my own body. I think it's super unfair that at 37 I learned I have osteoporosis and because I want to, I don't know, take a bike ride with my kids when summer rolls around, I have to do something to treat it. But because of my age, I only have two options. Neither of which excite me or make me happy.

When the doctor called to let me know that I had osteoporosis (when I was just getting a dexa scan as a baseline), I'm not going to lie: I cried. And cried. And cried. I mean full on sobbing.

It's another thing to deal with.
It's another pre-existing condition in my medical file.
It's more doctors appointments.
It's more medicines.
It's more co-pays.
It's more worry.

Not to seem overly emotional about this, but I'M SO OVER THIS CRAP.

Sigh.

So today, I'm going to feel like I belong in a commercial. One that I would have laughed at in what feels like another life time. This time I'm not laughing though. Sigh.

Exciting news

I should have come and blogged this the moment I found out, but as you can tell, not much blogging taking place around here these days!

That aside, I have some really exciting news. I'm going to be in the Chicago's Listen To Your Mother show this year! I'm so thrilled about this. Not only is it going to be fun to take the stage again after doing it in 2012, but, this time around is going to be even better.

If you check the cast list, you might notice that another participant shares the same last name as me. My 14 year old Emma will also be in the LTYM show! She has been trying out for the last several years and wasn't cast. And I have to tell you, that I admire her for trying again and never giving up. She didn't let not being cast get her down - she kept trying.

If you remember from 2012, I almost died before the show because of nerves. And she's 14 and ready to take the stage by storm (but a friendly, happy, lovely storm!).

Anyway, we'll take the stage on Sunday, May 7. If you'd like to be in the audience, tickets are on-sale right now. And naturally, Emma and I would both love as much support from the audience as possible. I still might be terrified to take the stage this time around, just slightly less than last time.

I can't wait! Two months to go =) 

Surgery Preparations

So two days ago I underwent a total hysterectomy with bilateral salpingo-oophorectomy. This is a fancy way of saying they've removed my uterus, cervix, ovaries, and fallopian tubes.
(I'm writing this before surgery and setting it to post later, just in case you were reading for an update!)

I've been delaying this surgery for a few years, but it was time to do it now for several reasons. I'm hoping my iron levels start to go up. This should help prevent a cancer recurrence. And stop all the issues I've been having with ovarian cysts.

And still, I'm not quite thrilled about having another surgery and going under the knife again. But I'm smart and trust my doctors and recognize that it's time. And if there's anything I know about, it's getting ready for surgery.

So I thought, I'd share with you what I did to prepare for this upcoming surgery. Most of which I've done before my other surgeries.

Around the house:

• I cleaned what I could and tried to get as much laundry done as possible.
• Since I usually drive the kids to their things, I left a list of regularly scheduled things for the husband to drive.
• They have a few things coming up that are one-time events. I have already lined up rides for the kids with other (very helpful and kind) parents.
• We have temporarily set up the room on the first floor for me so I won't have to do stairs for a few days. 
• Left the husband with a list of important passwords, not that I think he'll need them, but just in case. 
• I took care of things on my to do list that I've been procrastinating on (it's amazing what surgery prompts you to do!)

In the bedroom:

• Fresh sheets on the bed because that's just nice any time! 
• I've pulled out some clothes from the dresser drawers/closet. 
• The clothes are now folded and sitting on the top of the dresser so I have easy access to them (sometimes after surgeries, it's hard to pull those drawers open - this was an issue after my mastectomy and with some of my reconstruction so I just do it now with every surgery and it just makes things easier).
• I bought a paper holder and did not put paper in it, but it perfectly holds the tablet, the kindle, and my cell phone.
• I got a holder for my phone cord so it won't fall to the floor on me.
• I have a special wrap light so that if I need light in the middle of the night, it's right there for me.

Random things:

• Clipped my nails so I won't have to worry about it later
• Bought some pajamas that are wicking fabric in case the hot flashes kick in really badly
• Bought some button down shirts - I used these after my mastectomy and it was so nice. Someone suggested that I might want to do that for the first few days after this surgery as well. I had already gotten rid of my other button downs (as I don't normally wear them)

Things I didn't do this time that I normally do:

• Make some dinners in advance
• Line up dinners from friends
• Line up some activities for the kids 
• Get a haircut so I wouldn't have to deal with my long hair - which I will now. Bummer.

For relaxing and passing time as my body heals:

• I splurged and purchased kindle unlimited and got my 10 book limit.
• I used my library's on-line site and downloaded my 5 book limit.
• I was gifted the Texture app and it's all ready to go.
• (Side note: the texture app gives you access to a lot of magazines and you can read whichever ones you want, whichever articles you want for a monthly fee. It's pretty amazing and I am already in love with it and have read so many interesting things. It's great for those moments you have 10  minutes to read, or when you aren't feeling well and you don't want to have to remember details from a book!)
• I stacked a few actual books in case my eyes are bothering me and I can't look at screens.
• I stacked a few videos in case I want to watch something. 
• Have some games ready to play on the tablet along with netflix, amazon prime, and on demand app. 
• And of course, I have some knitting ready to go

This surgery is a bit different than the others because my husband will be able to work from home for a while - which will make things so very much easier. And while this means that he will be working, without a commute time, he'll have more freedom to do things like cook, help with cleaning, and being the taxi for our children.

I know I have a lot of things listed to help pass the time, but I am definitely using this time to just let my body heal. I have been feeling so unhealthy lately. So not only will this be forced time to heal from surgery, but to just heal my body in general. Especially with my husband getting to work from home, I'm trying to frame it in my mind that this is really just a vacation for me and a time to relax. Not that I'll do nothing, but I'll take it as easy as I can.

Anyway, I think I prepared well before surgery. In fact, I'm positive I over prepared by a lot! I suppose I'd rather be over-prepared and not under-prepared!

A Night Away

So the other day, I did one of the nicest things I've ever done for myself: a booked a hotel room. With a jacuzzi tub. And a fireplace.

It was local - I didn't travel far.
I got a good deal because I booked it last minute.

And I'm telling you, I'm pretty sure I need to do this at least once a year with only one change: two nights instead of one!

On the way to the hotel, I stopped at the store and bought dinner and snacks - I knew once I was in the room, I wouldn't want to leave, so I came in with more than I needed.

I brought knitting, chocolate, scented stuff (but not too scented) for the tub, my tablet, and a book to read.

Can I just tell you how wonderful it was? Because it was.

It was over the top, it was a huge splurge, and I loved every single moment of it.

I took the loveliest bath I've had in a really long time.
I started and finished an entire book (The Great Christmas Knit Off - a light read that was just perfect for the occasion!)
I ate too much chocolate.
I streamed a tv show I enjoy.
I had a few glasses of Sparkling Grape Juice.
I sat in front of the fireplace.
I slept in really late.

I had a bit of time by myself. And then my husband came and joined me. It was the perfect mix of alone time and together time.

It was definitely an over-the-top extravagance and I loved every single moment of it. I don't regret doing it at all.

It's hard to leave sometimes when you're the mom. But, we all know the whole if you're cup is empty how can you help others line of thinking.

I'm not sure if one night away refilled my cup per se, but it was enough to get me through for a while.

Oh 2016

A poem I wrote in April

It's the start of the new year.
A time to reflect on what's coming and what has passed.

I won't lie.
2016 was not the greatest year of my life. In fact, it is probably in the top 3 of worst years ever.

It wasn't all bad. The year started well. Winter and spring were good.
There was time with my family. There was CancerCon. There were good days for sure.

But spring turned into summer. And everything seemed to fall apart.

I think my 5 year anniversary of diagnosis might have set it off. Or maybe just life in general. Or maybe a medicine I take. Or maybe nothing. Maybe it was meant to be.

But quickly, before I could realize what was going on, things seemed to spiral down, down, down, and when I thought it couldn't go any lower, it did.

I knew I was in a bad place. I tried to fight it - I did. But I reached the point where I didn't want to get out of bed in the morning. I thought how much easier it would be to just lay in bed and not get up. That was all. I just wanted to stay in bed. I didn't want to parent. I didn't want to cook. I didn't want to clean. I didn't want to read. I didn't want to knit. I didn't want to watch tv or stream anything. I didn't want to shower. I didn't want to do anything, but stay in bed.

Thankfully, each morning I was able to talk myself into getting up and doing the absolute minimum of things I needed to do.

I was also at this time having issues with medicine that caused a lot of pain. I was getting migraines. My iron dropped again.

So I would get up, do what needed to be done, and then nap.

I was truly exhausted. I was truly in pain. I was truly burned out.

I also realized that I was truly depressed.

Pain, depression, disease, anxiety - there's a circle there can feed on itself once it's started that can be very hard to stop.

There was also grief and guilt and feelings of inadequacy. I felt this surge of anger.  I was mad. At everyone. At everything.

But mostly myself and mostly cancer. Everything cancer took from me, every side effect cancer gave me, everything I couldn't do, every time my body hurt, every time I had to say no I can't do that. There was anger. And anger. And even more anger.

That's when I knew this couldn't be fixed by me alone or fixed with sheer will.
So I went to a therapist.
And I went to a doctor.
And I talked.
And I started medicine.
And I was diagnosed with PTSD that includes depression and anxiety. 

Is it all helping?
Yes. It is.
But.
There's a lot to unpack.
It doesn't get fixed overnight.

And there's still the medical side of things: pain, low iron, fatigue, stomach issues, migraines.

Basically, I mostly feel like I'm a hot mess.

I haven't talked about it much. I haven't talked about it with many people.
Honestly, I feel like a failure. I feel like I don't have a right to have PTSD. I feel afraid that if I share, people will treat me differently. I worry people will think I can't be a good mother through this. I feel ashamed.

Of course, now it's a new year! And it's time for a new beginning!
Or not.
This doesn't end because the calendar changed.
I don't suddenly cast out all my demons because it's a new day.

I'll keep doing what I'm doing though.
Except, I won't hide it as much.
I'll try to wash the shame away.
I'll try to remember that life is hard and beautiful and complicated and wonderful and awful and bittersweet and full of moments that take your breath away from awe and sometimes from pain.
I'll try to remember compassion - for myself and for others.
I'll try to remember love - for myself and for others.
And I'll try to remember patience - for myself and others.

I'm not sure what 2017 will hold in store for me.
I'm not sure where I'll be standing 12 months from now. 
I feel pretty confident though that I'll be doing my best to do whatever it is I'm doing then.
That I'll still be working through this huge bag of emotions. That I'll be trying my best to be as healthy as I can. And that where I am in life is where I am, and that I'll still be learning to not focus on where I think I should be.

Browned Butter Cookie

So, thanks to Houseful of Nicholes, I'm popping in real quick to actually blog.

I know, I know. Please don't pass out from shock.

Anyway, I'm back again this year to play along with #HousefulOfCookies once again this year.

My teen baking!

Now, last year, I made my lovely star Christmas tree. I was so proud of that tree and it's something I love to make. Last year, I entered the Christmas season with energy and vigor and excitement.

This year, has been a bit different. This year I've been feeling not well. There's a lot going on - which is also why I haven't been blogging. I usually bake dozens and dozens of cookies each holiday season. This year I've hardly baked at all. It's hard to balance energy levels, health issues, and trying to do-do-do. I just can't do it all. Or even half.

Mmm ... melted butter

So in an effort to scale back a bit, this year, we went with a simple cookie. Simple because I wanted to contribute to #HousefulOfCookies and because I needed to at least make some cookies this year. It's simple, but so good. And it's got lots of butter. And I love butter.

My 14 year old was my helper. And by helper I mean she basically did almost all the work and I snapped pictures. I told my husband the student has surpassed the teacher. So we are both feeling proud - I like an excellent teacher, and her as an excellent baker.

We (she) produced some excellent cookies. We made some with the fork, and she played with the cookie stamps for quite a few. Experimentation is good and she's never used them before. I might add, she did pretty darn good with them too, but can still work on technique a bit. Still, I didn't even know cookie stamps existed when I was 14!

It was a nice night and the longest part was waiting for the butter to cool down!





Browned Butter Cookies

What you need:
1 cup butter
3/4 cup white sugar
1 large egg
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 cups and a pinch more of flour
Decorating sugar (optional)
Cookie Stamps (optional)

What to do:
1. Preheat your oven to 350F

2. Melt your butter over medium-high heat. Watch it closely. Allow it to melt and then after a few moments, the butter will start to foam and turn a lovely yellow color.

3. Remove pan from heat and refrigerate for 30ish minutes.

4. In a bowl, mix together the butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla.

5. Slowly add in the flower into the mixture and mix until it is well blended.

6. Rub some flour on your hands and roll the dough into 1-inch balls (a small cookie scoop is perfect for this).

7. Roll the balls into decorating sugar (this is optional. I like it both ways - without sugar, it makes for a great cookie to dip in tea or coffee!)

8. Place on cookie sheet and use a fork to flatten them. (Like how you do for peanut butter cookies?)

*OPTIONAL STEP 8. Do not do step 7. Place balls on cookie sheet and use a cookie stamp to flatten them. Add decorating sugar if so desired.

9. Bake 11-14 minutes, or until golden brown (note: they will bake a bit faster without the decorating sugar)

10. Let cool. Eat. Enjoy.

Yield 3-4 dozen

Want more cookie recipes? Look no further than here:
12/1 –Natasha Nicholes – Jan Hagel Dutch Shortbread Cookies 
12/2 – Maple Mellows – Rosie Discovers
12/3 – Partridge in A Pear Tree Pie Cookies – All Dressed Up With Nothing to Drink
12/4 – Chewy Chocolate Cookies with Coffee Glaze – Mama Harris’ Kitchen 
12/5 – Snickerdoodle & Peanut Butter Cake Cookies – Crafty Life
12/6 – German Chocolate Shortbread Cookies – Chewsy Lovers
12/7 – Fruitcake Cookies – So Rae, Me
12/8 – Cake Mix Christmas Cookies – A Real Urban Mom 
12/9 – Snow On the Mountain Cookies – Kitchen Stories Etc.
12/10 – Melt In Your Mouth Nutella Butter Cookies P Thirty 1 
12/11 – The Queso
12/12 – Banana Chocolate Chip Cookies – Hysterical Mom 
12/13 – Chewy Gingerbread Cookies – FoodPlus
12/14- Glazed Lemon Butter Cookies – Mixed Blessings Blog
12/15 – Banana Pina Colada Freestyle Cookies – Socamom  & Gingerbread Cranberry Chocolate Chip Cookies – Just A Splash of Diva
12/16 –Chocolate Truffles – Houseful Of Nicholes
12/17 – Snowball Cookies – Mixed Prints Life
12/18  Mommy & Me Blessed Macarons – Blessed be the Tie 
12/19 – Eggnog Cookies – Fab Haute Mama

On getting my heart broken

Lately, my heart has been broken.
And broken again.
And broken once more.

And I've spent so much time wondering why.
Why?
Why do bad things happen?
Why are we so quick to grab our pitchforks?
Why do we not show more compassion?
Why does our anger and hatred run so deep?
Why do I care?
Why do some others seem to not care?

No, this isn't related to anything in my house.
No, this isn't related to cancer.


But current events lately?

They are slowly breaking me.
What fresh hell will we wake up to tomorrow?

It seems to me that even though witch hunts fell out of favor, that even though burning woman at the stake is frowned upon, we as a society have figured out a way to figuratively burn women at the stake.

Make a mistake? Uproar.
Act human? How dare you.
You are not a perfect mother? Then why the hell did you even have children?
And if your child leaves your eye sight for one second? Well, suddenly everyone else has NEVER lost a child and has never felt that panic and take your child away because SHAME ON YOU.
Get raped? Well, why didn't you prevent it better?

On the other hand ...
Oh you raped a woman ...
Well, do you look "nice"?
Are you an athlete?
Do you come from a "good" family?
Oh, well, here's your slap on the wrist and now we will all mourn for the things you have lost. Because maybe now you can't even eat steak anymore, and oh dear, what ever shall we do to make you feel better now?

And then we throw in the oh, you don't like who that person kissed?
Great. Here's a gun that fires more rounds than anyone should ever have a need for.
When the anger gets to be too much? Go and shoot up a bunch of people.
Because they are something that you don't agree with.

The country will mourn.
We'll pray.
We'll send good thoughts.

But nothing will change.

In a few weeks, another woman will make a mistake and be raked across the coals.
Another woman will get raped and people will blame her clothes, what she drank, where she was, and her sexual history. (Or worse, no one will listen and nothing will be done.)
Another man will get a slap on the wrist for raping her. (Or worse, he'll have nothing done because she won't report it, or she won't be believed, or the police won't press charges, or the DNA kit will be placed on an ever growing pile that isn't being tested).
Someone else will take a gun to a bar, a movie theater, a shopping mall, a street, a school, a beach, a concert, a sporting event, somewhere, anywhere.

There is so much hate in this world.
There is so much us vs. them.
There is so little compassion.
There is so much anger.
There is so much division.
There is so little understanding.

And it just feels like we, as a society, will ever do anything to stop it. 
Sure, we throw out platitudes. As if that's ever made a difference.

Sigh.

I don't know where to go from here.
I don't know what to do.

I want to be a voice that speaks out.
I want to be a voice that is compassionate.
I want to be a voice that is understanding.
I want to be a voice that is caring.

I want to stop the hate.
I want to stop the anger.
I want to stop the violence.
I want to stop the hurt.
I want to stop the pain.

It's all rolling around in my head. All these thoughts, all these feelings.
I can't imagine how people who are in the thick of things are feeling about this.

It's so hard to wrap my head around. I just don't understand it. 

National Cancer Survivorship Day

Today is National Cancer Survivor Day.

 

Per definition "An individual is considered a cancer survivor from the time of diagnosis, through the balance of his or her life. Family members, friends, and caregivers are also impacted by the survivorship experience and are therefore included in this definition." from the National Coalition for Cancer Survivorship.

 

The minute a doctor tells you that you have cancer, you are considered a survivor. You remain a survivor for the rest of your life.

Many people who are survivors struggle with that term. Even though the term was coined to include those who have incurable cancer, or those who are in active treatment, many people hear survivor and assume that it means a person who completed treatment and no longer has cancer.

And so survivor can feel like an awkward term to call oneself, especially during treatment, especially if you know the cancer you have will probably be what kills you, especially if you do not feel that cancer is a gift.

Not long ago, survivor was expanded to include the family members/care givers of the person with cancer. Many of these people have trouble calling themselves survivors too.

For me, it is a strange place to be in. I'm a "survivor" but I didn't do anything special to be a survivor. I did not do anything to get my cancer and I didn't do anything special to make it go away. Science happened. Something happened in my genes, and some of my cells turned into cancer. Science happened. The doctors gave me standard care and at this moment, the doctors can't detect cancer in my system anymore.

But other people in the same boat, go through the same treatment and the story ends differently. It is hard to accept that it's just luck of the draw.

We as people want to grab onto something. "I don't eat x, so I can't get cancer. I meditate, so I can't get cancer. I sleep 8 hours a day, so I can't get cancer. I never drink y, so I can't get cancer. I pray every day, so I can't get cancer. I exercise, so I can't get cancer." It's natural. IF we can isolate the ONE thing that causes cancer, we can protect ourselves, and our loved ones.

However, cancer has existed long before our modern lifestyle. It predates sugar, and gluten, and pollution, and electricity, and we could keep going and going and going.We have found bodies with cancer that are 3000, 4000, maybe even 7000 years old. 

That's not to say don't be healthy. Because you should be healthy. I think we all know that by now.

And there are ways to reduce your risk of cancer. Reduce. Reduce. Reduce.

There are not ways to eliminate cancer. 

We haven't figured out how to do that yet. 

I wish we had. But we haven't.

So, today on National Cancer Survivors Day, think of your friends and loved ones who have/had cancer. Think of those who are still here, going through treatment. Think of those who are still dealing with the after effects of treatment. Think of their families and the people who care about them. And think of those of us who are missing someone today.

But also, remember, that tomorrow, you could find yourself in this group of survivors. Remember that even though you are healthy, there isn't a guarantee that you won't get cancer. Remember that cancer predates many of the things that people say are giving us cancer. And remember that some of the people you know, struggle with the term survivor - and that's okay. And some of the people you know embrace it fully and wholly - and that's okay.

There are over 15.5 million survivors in the US today. The only connecting thread for these 15.5 million people is that somewhere in their life, a doctor told them they had cancer. We are a group of people with a wide range of feelings on the term "survivor." 

As for me, the term doesn't bother me, but I don't feel a kinship with it either. I suppose I'm ambivalent about it really. Today will be a day like any other. I have nothing special planned. I'm recuperating from a virus I've dealt with all week. I'll watch too much tv. I'll knit some. And I'll go outside to enjoy our beautiful weather. 

For me, today is just any other day. 

Other days in my cancer story, I mark or I celebrate. 

But today, today, is just an ordinary Sunday.

This is 37

Monday was my birthday. Yay for more birthdays!
I had lots of friends send me wishes via facebook, and so I wanted to make sure I said thank you.
My thank you post turned out to be pretty long, long enough in fact to become a blog post. So here you go, this is a straight copy & paste job!

Thank all for the lovely wishes. I've been having a great day so far - the kids made me a banner, blew up some balloons and made cupcakes. I finished the book I was reading (that was due today). We went to the library and the grocery store. Now we are getting ready to head out to Miss M's softball game, where we'll eat pizza and enjoy our cupcakes. It's not fancy, but it will be a good birthday dinner none-the-less.

Now, for the serious part.

I'm 37 years old. I can't lie, I wasn't sure that I'd see 37. I didn't share this widely at the time, but when I was diagnosed, based on my specific cancer, age, and treatment, the statistics said that there was a 27% chance that I would be alive in 5 years. That's really hard to hear.
While I know I'm not a statistic, and it didn't feel like a dramatic death sentence, it still felt like a punch in the gut to hear. I never thought "when I'm 37," it has been "If I get to 37."
 
I know sometimes when I say things like that to Eric, it is hard for him to hear. I never said it to be depressing or dramatic, but it just what was for me.
 
It was hard for quite some time for me to plan in the future. I'm sure it was a defense mechanism, but I stopped thinking about long term plans. I stopped thinking about how I would spend retirement, or what I would do after all the kids left the house. That was hard to do. Because thinking about it would always end with my brain coming back to that 27%.
 
So I focused on doing. Doing things (when I could, when I was able to).
 
But I'm here. I'm 37. And that tightness in my chest feels a little less tight. I'm starting to just be more, instead of doing things, instead of just filling the time.
 
I know that none of us really knows what tomorrow brings. And I know some of you are dealing with a lot more than what I do. But it was still hard. And felt like a heavy burden to carry.
 
I'm glad I'm turning 37 today. It is a birthday that some of my friends didn't get to celebrate. But I'm here. I've got great friends and family. I'm here. I'm living. And I'm working on being. And I'm working on worrying a bit less. And I'm working on trying to just enjoy the here and now instead of letting the little things nag me or the big fears consume me.
 
So, happy birthday to me. And happy unbirthday to all of you, who helped me get here through love and support and humor and all the many ways you are blessings in my life.
 
And an extra shout out to the husband Eric - my rock, my protector, the guy who would walk through fire for me. And my mom Ellyn, who never makes me feel bad when I have to call her crying, who has supported me always and has always been there for me.

 So here we go. This is 37.

Reading, Justin Cronin, and Chemobrain

Sometime back in 2010, I was listening to the radio, and I heard an interview with this author Justin Cronin.

At the time I didn't know who he was, had never heard of him before. But the interview hooked me in. (I think the interview might have been Terry Gross, but I'm not 100% sure).

Cronin was talking about how his new book, The Passage, came to be. He would run while his daughter biked and they talked books and plots and what they should write about. His daughter was nine and naturally wanted a book where a nine-year-old girl was an important character. And so The Passage was born.

I knew it was a horror book. I knew it had vampires/zombie things in it. I knew that wasn't quite what I was reading about at the time. But when I heard that interview, I was sold. I needed to read this book that I was hearing about. Mostly because I was sold on the father/daughter creation of it.

Plus, we had a big trip coming up - a train trip from Chicago to Boston and so I would have a lot of time to kill. The Passage, when I looked it up, was a huge book and would be perfect for the train. So I downloaded it onto my new e-reader and dove in.

I. Loved. That. Book.

I couldn't put it down. I'm pretty sure my family got annoyed with me saying, "just let me get to the end of the page and I'll be there!" When it ended, I wanted to cry. I needed the second book right then. Of course, the first book had just come out, so the waiting game began.

Then April 2011 hit. And cancer hit. My own personal nightmare, which had nothing to do with vampires or vampire-like creatures, or anything you find in a horror books played out in front of me.

During treatment, I all but stopped reading. I was physically incapable of reading - the meds messed with my eyes very badly and words looked like they were dancing across the page. I tried some audio books. I was mentally incapable of reading. I couldn't remember anything they had just said. I basically gave up on reading.

This was hard, I've always been a reader. Books, more than once in my life, had been my best friend. Reading was a vital part of my life - I was always reading.

But treatment ended and my eyes got better, so I decided to try to read again. And the chemobrain raged in full force. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't remember the line I had just read. I couldn't remember which character was who.

Again, frustration hit.

It was suggested that I go back and start to read children's books. And I did. And I could keep track of them better, and I worked my way up to books aimed at middle schoolers. And the books were good, but not exactly what I wanted to be reading. I know middle school is tough, but one more bad lunchroom scene and I was going to lose it.

So I kept trying to go back to "adult" books and I just couldn't. I couldn't keep up with them. It was too much for my brain.

But.
But.

The Twelve, part two of the series, came out late 2012. And I was going to read come hell or high water.

I can't tell you how many times I restarted that book. How many pages I had to read, then reread, then reread again. How I would sometimes google characters names to place them in my head when I forgot who they were.

But I was in love with the series, and the second book, despite me having lots of trouble reading it, didn't dampen my love for the story or my desire to know what happened.

It took a long time, but I read, finished, and remembered what happened in The Twelve.

For me, this series will be a direct measure of what I could do before cancer, and what I could do after cancer.

The first book I sailed through. The second book almost felt like it was in a language I didn't know very well. But, when I got through it? I felt so accomplished. Take that cancer. Take that chemobrain. I finished a book!

Which takes us to today. In a week and a half, the third (and final) book comes out. The City of Mirrors. I have already ordered the book. I can't wait to get my hands on it. I plan on reading nonstop until I finish. Okay, I can't actually read nonstop because people in my house need to be driven places and fed and have laundry done and all that jazz, but I'm going to read it as nonstop as possible.

But tomorrow, I'm heading into the city to attend BookCon.
And Justin Cronin will be there.
And I'm going to do try really really hard to get his autograph.

He doesn't know it, but his book, about an apocalyptic time in America was perfectly time with my own personal apocalypse. The first book will always be what I read before cancer. The second book will always be what I read after cancer with really bad chemobrain. And I'm hoping the third book will be the book I read after the chemobrain is a lot better.

One book series to help map what I could do, what I couldn't do, what I could work hard to do, and what I could do again.

And I can't wait.

Books for me have power. There is power in them, whether it's a light beach read, a heavy dark novel, an account of history, fantasy, fiction, nonfiction, whatever is written on those pages? It's powerful for me. I love books. I love reading books. As I get older, the types of books I read grows and grows. I make a point to read every single day.

So when I think back to the time that cancer stole that from me? It's so hard. To know there was a time when I walked away from reading because it was too much? That's a hard time to remember.

But coming back to it, no matter how hard? That makes me feel good.

So tomorrow I shall walk around all day, surrounded by books. I can't wait to see all there is to see and I can't wait to meet authors that I've read before. But, I'm really looking forward to seeing Justin Cronin. His books holds a special place in my heart.

So wish me luck, send me get-Cronin's-autograph-vibes-but-don't-scare-him-with-your-enthusiasm-vibes.

=)