You'll Eat It and You'll Like It

Today I am going to write about something that has nothing to do with cancer (yay!), but has everything to do with my sanity (or lack thereof) as a human being. Today's topic: Meal Planning.

Up until the day I moved in with my husband, I only really ever had to worry about feeding one mouth. Mine. So, between...what say...1995 and 2010, I pretty much did whatever I wanted in regards to breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Thinking back...I went through many different phases. Healthy phases...where I ate spinach salads and whole grains mixed with more vegetables day in and day out. Unhealthy phases...like the time I ate Lucky Charms morning, noon and night for a couple of weeks. (I do not recommend this. It did some funny things to my umm...poo.) Sometimes, I would cook myself elaborate multi-course meals, usually with a glass of wine between each course (I always seemed to end up pretty sloshed by the end of those nights). Then, there was always the old standby of "breakfast for dinner". Bacon and eggs. Waffles. Pancakes. French Toast. Hash browns. All those glorious breakfast foods that a working girl never really gets to eat. Mmm.

Before I moved in with my husband, I was pretty much eating Lean Cuisines or spaghetti or stir-fry every night. Shopping was easy. Planning was easy. And, if I wanted to eat spaghetti for dinner 7 nights in a row...more power to me.

Then, I moved in with The Hubs. And life, as we know it, changed in ohsomany ways. I lived with my husband for about 6 months before we actually got married. And I have always been grateful that I did, because it was HARD and I think if I had just officially and legally tied the knot and THEN went through those first 6 months...I may be locked up in a mental institute somewhere today. Seriously. But, I digress.

I think that, at first, I was really excited about the prospect of this new "role" in my life. My new responsibilities as the "domestic goddess" of the household. It was a new opportunity for me to plan and organize and find new and added purpose in my life. An opportunity for people to count on me and appreciate me (hahahahahahahaha).  Sigh. I had so much to learn.

With my stepdaughter in the house for 50% of our dinners, meal planning took on an added challenge. I wanted to eat healthy (and lose weight for my wedding), but I wanted her to actually eat what I made without too much fuss (hahahahahahahahaha). Sigh. Again...I had ohso much to learn. (During that time, I also learned that my adult self-esteem wasn't all that solid because I did, indeed, feel hurt and sad when my meals were rejected by a then 6 year-old).

Eventually, I started to develop a system. We had a repertoire of dishes (that I TRIED to make healthy) I could count on each week. They all needed to be relatively easy, as I did work a full-time job and my stepdaughter's bedtime was fairly early...we didn't need her eating dinner in the bathtub.

During this time...we pretty much counted on a few things for nights we had my stepdaughter: mac and cheese; tacos; hot dogs; chicken with rice and broccoli. Every weekend, there was some sort of slow cooker meal. Every Tuesday was "Taco Tuesday". I loved this. I didn't have to think about it and I didn't have the usual "What are we eating for dinner?" interrogation <insert whiny tone here> the minute that my husband and stepdaughter walked in the door.

Then my husband, who had been fairly quiet and accommodating to my meals, decided to start having an opinion. The nerve. I can't remember if this happened before or after the official knot had been tied. My guess would be after...once he legally "had" me. LOL. So, one Tuesday while I was happily constructing a taco (and mind you...I changed it up a bit here and there...using turkey or chicken or fish, soft shells, crunchy shells, etc.) and he says, "I am sick of tacos. We need to stop the tacos for awhile." WHAT!? This was one of the few mindless things I had going on in my life and he wanted to take that from me? Sigh.

So over the past 2 years, I have experimented with the meals and with the "rotation". Sometimes successfully. Sometimes, notsomuch. But, we all eat every night and so far no one has died of starvation or food poisoning. Yet. (I also have learned to lower my domestic goddess expectations). But, in all honesty, I really feel no joy in this task. Some meals incur grumblings and complaints, while others bring quiet indifference. Very rarely is there an acknowledgement of how awesome a meal is. Ha. It happens. And its usually by me. But...really.

How did this become my responsibility? What would happen if the responsibilty was turned over to my husband or to my 8 year-old stepdaughter? Does anyone enjoy this task? Does anyone have a trick? Sigh. I hope I can find a way to enjoy the planning of the meals....

Until then, I will continue with my favorite new line: As my husband skeptically questions what he is about to put in his mouth...."It doesn't matter. You'll eat it and you'll like it."

So there.

What's for dinner? Vashni

How Having Cancer is Like a Full-Time Job

Let me first start off by saying that many, many, many people diagnosed with cancer do continue to work full- and part-time jobs in addition to managing their cancer. This can be by choice, but in most cases I would guess, it is by necessity. I will be the first to tell you that I have no idea how they do it and I wish that everyone facing cancer treatment had the liberty...as I have had...to stop working and focus on getting well. Reality isn't that kind or generous sometimes though and my heart goes out to those individuals who have to juggle both work and a life-altering diagnosis. Especially those that juggle work, family (kids) and cancer. I just cannot even comprehend.

Anyway...I was thinking the other day how much managing my cancer and all the other "stuff" that comes with it is kind of like having a full-time job. Here is what made me think that:

1. Rolodex--I realized while filling out paperwork for yet another doctor (a pain management specialist), that I really needed a rolodex to keep all my doctor's business cards and contact information. I have a gadzillion cards floating around with hand-scribbled alternate phone numbers and email addresses and I haven't really figured out a method for storing these things.... other than letting them "float around". I do have an iPhone...I bet there is an app for that.
2. Expense Reporting--My husband and I decided that it would be a good idea for 2012 to keep meticulous records of how much money we (and the insurance company) are spending toward my medical care. I am one of those people who gets a "stiffy" at the thought of creating a spreadsheet (ask any of my former coworkers), so this plan had me salivating at the laptop. Stick me in a room with some data, a computer, and the Microsoft Excel program and then just slap a happy face sticker on my forehead. I am on cloud 9. To up the enjoyment factor for me...ask me to give a power point presentation, with graphs, on my findings. To be sure...this spreadsheet is pretty elaborate and keeping it updated is quite tedious, but it is this kind of painstaking detailed work that I have always thrived on. For the record...some interesting facts from my spreadsheet...this year to date, we have logged over $100 in parking fees for doctor's visits, treatments and procedures.  I have visited my oncology office 27 times (racking up over $92,000 in charges (that's before insurance adjustments and payments...don't worry my portion is totally tiny compared to the total charge...but imagine if you had no insurance!!));  have had and/or tried 14 different types of prescription medications (no wonder they know me by name at the pharmacy); and have had 4 blood transfusions, 2 CT scans and 6 therapy sessions with a mental health counselor. All in the first quarter of 2012! I love my little spreadsheet of information.
3. Time management--An obvious one...even though I am not in a real job right now, I still sometimes have a pretty full "meeting" schedule. In fact, I don't think I have ever consulted my calendar as much as I do now. It's like having a traveling job...OK, where do I need to be today? What time of day is it? What are the traffic and weather conditions? If I am having some sort of procedure, transfusion or treatment, I sometimes need to make sure I have someone to drive me. My husband can help with this sometimes, but other times, I need to rely on someone coming from out of town, so that means preparing the house for guests in advance of an appointment. You have to be organized, I tell you.
4. The pills--Another realm of time management that I have recently discovered is managing all these pills. I have my regular pills, my chemo pill, my pain pills and my constipation pills. Oh and vitamins...my vitamin pills. I found out recently that when it comes to pain pills (which you really don't want to take too often), I am not so good at remembering when I took the last dose. So, I had to start a little notebook to keep track. I visited with a pain management specialist today, who basically said that if I am taking pills as often as I have been then well...my pain is not being "managed" (LOL)...so hopefully on his plan, I can get back to leading a somewhat normal life where I am not popping a pill every few hours. Ha. When's my next hit, man...
5. The Paperwork--I have so many papers, I really don't know what to do with it all. The bills, the EOBs, the Flexible Spending Account statements, the lab reports, the pathology reports, the receipts....it goes on and on like the theme song from Titanic. I do have an accordion-type file thing for filing my papers, but even that doesn't seem to be able to contain and control the forest of trees I am collecting on the floor of the study. Then, there are the papers I have to fill out and submit to the insurance company or the Flexible Spending Account people or the doctors. The Boss (aka My Husband) has been getting on my case about these lately. He is not a fan of unfinished business and I have a lot of unfinished business piling up at the foot of his desk recently. :oD <--sheepish grin
6. Networking--I am realizing that just as in my professional life, of which I currently have none, it's good to "know" people. My oncologist is friends with The Doctor at Hopkins. Without that relationship, I doubt that I would have gotten as thorough care as I have gotten and I doubt that I would have gotten in to meet with The Doctor so quickly. Likewise, I can thank my Primary Care Physician for getting me referred to my awesome oncologist. I know there have been other connections in this journey that have helped me and that there will likely be more. Anywhere in life, it's good to "know people".
7. Coworkers--In pretty much all of the jobs I have had in the past, no matter how many spreadsheets I was able to joyfully create, it was my coworkers who really made the job worth it. It was my coworkers who made me want to get out of bed each day and come to work. I kind of feel like all of you...my friends and family and medical team are my coworkers for this job. You send me notes and gifts to make me laugh and smile. You drive me to treatments. You research and google things for me so that I stay away from the bad stuff. In essence, you make me want to keep working and getting better. Not just for me. For all of you too. So, thank you! Thank you for giving me a reason to keep going to work everyday!

Love to you all, Vashni

What Money Can't Buy

This past weekend, many of my friends and the entire world of The Facebook and The Twitter were a-buzz with comments about what they would do if they won the $640 million Mega Millions jackpot. From lavish vacations to larger homes to charities, etc. And so, I started thinking about what I would do with such a windfall...and it struck me kind of hard, like a slap in the face kind of hard, that instead of feeling gleeful excitement over the extravagant possibilities, I found myself overcome with a deep sadness.

The thing is...no matter how much money I have...it would never be enough to buy me (or anyone else for that matter) pure natural juicy health. No amount of money in the world would render me cancer-free. No millions upon millions of dollar bills would bring back those we have lost to cancer and other diseases. I think it was the first time in my life that I realized that money can only do so much.

Don't get me wrong. Financially, my husband and I are comfortable. We don't live extravagantly. We don't own fancy things. We don't own a big mansion (especially in the DC suburbs). But, we have good health insurance. We can pay our bills. And we can splurge from time to time when we need/want to. But, I DO realize that there are many many people out there that are battling cancer that do not have the same financial resources to get the quality health care that they need and a lottery win WOULD prove beneficial in their fight for health and wellness. But, even in that case...money can only do so much.

Thankfully, in addition to modest financial security, I have immeasurable (BEYOND IMMEASURABLE) emotional support. THAT cannot be bought or lotter-ied off. THAT is priceless as well. I thank God everyday for the things that are priceless in life that I can say I have....love, hope, faith, friendship, family, hugs, smiles, cherry blossoms, dog kisses. I could go on and on. I don't need $640 million to access these things. They are here for me anytime I need them. Well, maybe not cherry blossoms, but you get the point.

Anyway...for perhaps the first time in my life...I had a dramatic shift in my perspective on money. For most of my life...I was of the mindset that there was never enough money and I wanted more, more, more. Now, I realize that more money doesn't equate to perfection and sheer happiness. I mean...there are a lot of material things I wouldn't mind having...and I think that a lavish vacation of any kind would do wonders to restore my sense of well-being...but in the end, money can't buy the things that really matter most. And I am grateful that I truly, deep down, "get that" now. 

Faith, Hope and Love to you,

Vashni

For Steph...

Today marks the 3rd anniversary of the day I lost a dear friend, Stephanie Leonards Roman, to cancer. To say that I think about Steph everyday would be an understatement...as I think about her many times every day. Especially now. I never in a gajillion years thought I would be facing the same battle for life as she did just 3 years ago.

When Steph was battling cancer, I didn't talk to her much. I didn't visit. I sent an occasional silly gift or card or email. I still have a card that I failed to send her before she passed. I can't bring myself to get rid of it or send it to someone else. I regret not talking to her more and I hope she knows/knew how much I thought of her then. I know she knows how much I think of her now because I feel her around me. She is somehow with me on this journey. 

Battling cancer, especially a stage IV cancer, can be a very solitary experience. It's not something you can really grasp or comprehend until you are smack dab in the middle of it (which I sincerely hope none of my loved ones ever are). I often wonder if she had the same fears as I. The same questions. The same doubts. In the times that I did interact with her, she was incredibly courageous and brave and FUNNY. I was diagnosed with my first cancer while she was still around and I always referred to her and considered her to be my "cancer role model". I have said it before and I will say it again...I sincerely do not think I would have handled my own diagnoses and subsequent battle nearly as well as I have if it weren't for her positive example.

At any rate, I really didn't want this to be a sad blog. Rather a tribute to Steph, a reminder of how precious life really is, a celebration of the life of that comical and confident blondie that entered my life in....uh...1992? Wow 20 years ago?!

I used to keep another blog called Vashni's 34x365. I started it on my 34th birthday in 2007. An attempt to write "34 words for every year of my life about 365 people who have helped shape who I am today. One person each day for a year." I petered out at #83. Around the time I started dating my now-husband and got preoccupied with love and such. But, I looked back this morning and there she was. Number 56. November 6, 2007. 

Stepha-NIE! From Lyle Hall to Brookwood Court, the tundra to the Keys, we created so many silly memories. Tommy Boy. Back scratchers. That infamous late night trek to Landis. "Rectum? Damn near killed him!"

I suppose that most of this means absolutely nothing to most of you, but Steph would get it. And just thinking of these moments from our shared past makes me laugh out loud and smile. Boy oh boy...did Steph love telling that Landis story. I'd give my right kidney to hear her tell it again.

 

 *sidenote: I actually thought about the above "rectum" quote (which I believe actually originated from someone else in the Leonards clan) during my Near-Death Straining Incident.

Anyway...Steph and I had our ups and downs, as many friendships do, and even though I know she is somehow still around, I miss her. I miss her story-telling. The way she loved to brag about her wonderful family.  Her corny (seriously corny) jokes. Her love of all things bird-related.  Her gift and passion for teaching and for being a Mom. Her vibrant smile and that laugh. She knew how to laugh without abandon.

 “The first time her laughter unfurled its wings in the wind, we knew that the world would never be the same” ― Brian Andreas

Miss you, Stepha-NIE!! Today and always.


Love, Vashni

Hugs, Hair, and Hurts

I got a hug from one of the nurses today in celebration of The Return of My Hair. People who have seen me bald tend to get very excited when they see me now. To me, who sees myself in the mirror everyday, it's not changing or growing fast enough. But, it IS growing and that is pretty rad. 

I could tell based on our conversation (this nurse just takes my blood and checks my vitals, but doesn't really know anything about my "case"), that she thought that The Return of My Hair meant that I was done with treatment and all better and healthy. Oh how I wish that were the case. 

Anyway...I have learned over the past few months, that most people, who haven't seen me in awhile but know I am battling cancer, don't know what to expect when they do see me. From these encounters I have learned that many expect that I will "look the part" of a cancer patient. That I will be sickly pale and sickly skinny. Some even picture me in a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and beeping machines. This is far from the truth. With the exception of being bald (well, now just butch lesbian buzzcut (not that there is anything wrong with that)), I still look pretty much like...uh....Vashni. Post-prednisone fluffy Vashni. I am actually quite plump (much to my dismay) and my cheeks are round and rosy as ever. 

I am told that oncologists are the one type of doctor that are happy when their patients don't lose weight and that a well-nourished cancer patient has better odds of surviving...so even though I cringe each time I step on the scale at the doctor's office, I suppose that I should also be silently celebrating that my weight remains at a steady and hefty number. Likewise, I have been told by friends and family members that they secretly celebrate that my weight isn't decreasing at all. :o)

One thing that you can't really see when you look at me is that I am in pain. A lot. Like all the time right now. It is frustrating and defeating and all around a big stinkin' suckfest. And when I am in pain...my positive hopeful mindset spirals pretty low. Swings hella far in the other direction, in fact. Like, morbid self-deafeating thoughts at 3am and intermittent cry fests and old people noises coming fromst my lips. Not pretty. 

Some of my pain is residual from the liver biopsy. I have thought bad evil thoughts about this doctor for the past week. I realized, in addition to causing me all this pain and trauma, his bedside manner and general demeanor started my negative spiral of this past seven days. His attitude seemed to be "you have stage IV cancer...what hope do you have of making it" and "just be quiet and let me carelessly stab your liver cause you're gonna die anyway." Obviously, he wasn't saying these things...but this is the mindset that I left that hospital with and I have been shaking it ever since.

I have drugs. Cause one thing I have also learned in the past few months is that when you are a cancer patient, you can pretty much get your pale skinny hands on any kind of pill you want (I even had an offer from a fellow cancer patient who wanted to hook me up with some weed). But, I am reluctant to take all these drugs. Narcotics especially. The last thing I need on top of cancer is an even more toxic liver and a drug addiction. And, I was also thinking (in my altered pain-induced mindset introduced during the above-mentioned liver biopsy) that they think I won't make it either and they just want me to take these drugs so I can be comfortable until I die. Sigh. Yeah...I am revealing some pretty dark and disturbing notions that have been circulating my brain.

Anyway...it turns out that in my reluctance to suppress my pain with pretty white narcotic pills, I was doing the narcotic thing all wrong. I would take one here or there, but it never really touched the pain. I am now on a "schedule". It has to build up in my system and then I need to stay on top of it before it comes back. Already, its working. Who knew?! 

I also saw my therapist today. She made me realize that instead of focusing on and repeating the phrase "I don't want to die", I should really be trying to focus on and repeat the phrase "I want to live". Which is true, peeps! I WANT TO LIVE. I SHALL live. My time is so not up yet and I will not let some stupid liver-poking surgeon make me think or feel otherwise. So, yeah...it's a simple shift but a big one and I am gonna go lay down in my narcotic coma and repeat to myself....I want to live.....I shall live....

Peace. Love, Vashni

Mid-Night Brain Rumbles

I write my best blog posts in my head in the middle of the night. And then, when I sit down to write in the daylight...nothing comes. I wonder what it is about the deep dark of the night. The way the quiet and the shadows break through my brain and push down the walls of defense that I cling so tightly to during the daytime hours. The cogs of the wheels start turning and churning. Hidden portals of my mind open up like great garage doors...exposing all the junk I collect throughout the day. I am closest to God in these moments and most likely closest to my real self.

Sometimes, I will get up and go lay in the guest bed and read or journal. My minions (otherwise known as The Dog and The Cat) always join me. They have become a normal part of my solitude. My little living angels of grace. Sometimes my husband will come in and check on me. Most of the time he slumbers away, unaware of my mid-night wanderings and wonderings. 

What do I think about at 3 am? What don't I think about? I am just like every other living female on the face of the earth. Sometimes I spend hours thinking about all that needs to get done. I make my to do list and my shopping list and my personal growth list and my bucket list and my leap list all in my head...only to forget it all in the morning. Ha. 

I am learning to pray a little more. A little more deeply. This seems like a good time to do this. All the earth seems so quiet and far away and heaven or the universe or whatever it is out beyond seems a little bit closer to me. A little easier to grasp.

Sometimes I think about cancer. I think about life before cancer and life now. People are different. I am different. Cancer brings on a subtle yet undeniable shift in all my relationships. I toss around in my head whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. I can't define it. It is neither. It just is. 

I think about pain. Ever notice how we feel pain more intensely at nighttime? I know there is a biological reason for this...the endorphins in our bodies have dropped off for the night. Even they need a break from the daylight. But, even as our pain is more intense, our emotional strength is at it's weakest, I think. In the middle of the night, a tiny little gas pain becomes the beginning of the end in my head. A toe cramp? A sign that something in my body is seriously not working right. This is another subtle change of cancer...pain is no longer just pain. Every tiny pain gets examined and analyzed by me and all of The Google. If I wasn't a hypochondriac before (I was), I most certainly am now. And The Google. It knows.

Sometimes, I lay in bed and feel rage at my husband and The Dog and The Cat for being able to sleep so easily. How dare they! I fake cough, I deep sigh, I groan...in  hopes of bringing one of them to my side of the sleepless night.

Last night...I contemplated joy. I was reading before bed One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp again and a statement jumped out at me and slapped me in the face. "Expectations kill joy". How true is this!? How many times have I placed my own expectations on a relationship, on an event, on an outcome, on MYSELF...only to be hurt or disappointed? In 38 years? A lot! This is another one of those balancing acts I haven't figured out. I remember writing in my journal YEARS ago...contemplating the subtle difference between expectation and hope. Maybe not the difference, so much, but the possibility of having hope without expectation. It seems hard. It seems nearly impossible. But, I know it must be attainable. Hmm. I guess I am just gonna have to wait til another sleepless night arrives and I can puzzle it out in my un-hindered brain.

Have a great night, y'all!!

Love, Vashni

Time

March already!? It's unbelievable how quickly time is flying by...especially now that I am starting to realize that there just isn't enough of it! 

My therapist and I talked recently about my lack of motivation lately...otherwise known as "inertia". I have had this issue my entire life. This is not a new problem at all. I am more motivated and active when I have more to do. And, right now, while I am unemployed and focusing on rest and health...I find myself...uhh...inert. I just can't get myself going. It's so frustrating because while I see there is benefit to resting and being still and just sitting with myself, I feel like I am wasting time. Time that is precious. Time that I won't get back. This delicate balance is a struggle for me. I suppose it is just a fact of life and the human condition. I shall not beat myself up about it.

And then there is "Words with Friends". Dammit. I need an intervention. Because while I am sitting still and being with myself, I should at least be contemplating the deeper meaning of life and all the treasures it holds...not trying to figure out how to use my letter "Z" to my best advantage. Sigh. At least I am exercising my brain cells. Or something like that.

Anyway...I am almost done with week #1 of the Topotecan cocktail. Doesn't it sound like a drug that I should be taking while banging on a drum and chanting? Maybe puffing on a peace pipe or cleansing with some sage? The side effects so far have been almost non-existent. I will get my blood counts done tomorrow to see how those red and white blood cells and platelets are faring, but based on how I feel...I think they will be in the "good" or "ok" range. Perhaps my vampiress days are over. Still having some back and pelvic pain, but I have some good drugs for when I need them, which is mostly at bedtime. You know..."sorry honey, I just took some narcotics...I am too tired to scratch your back." LOL. I kid. I kid. 

Next week...I am having another liver biopsy. If you read my blog post about the first one...you know how traumatized I was by this experience, so I am a little reluctant and anxious. I am told that since the masses are a little larger, it will be a much easier procedure...but, I am not totally convinced. The reason for this "redo" is worth it to me though as my doctor is going to send this tissue off to a company: Caris Life Sciences. Here, they will do a targeted profiling of my cells and hopefully find the best treatment options specific to my body. It's new-ish. It's a long-shot. But, it's worth the liver jabbing if it can save and/or prolong my life. And if it can help science...I am kinda all about that too. 

That's my update for now. Take care. Live long and prosper! 

Love, Vashni

Fantasy vs Reality

Yesterday, I was driving on I-70, home from a visit to Hopkins to have my eyeballs checked. There is a sign on I-70 that states the mileage distance to a few places, such as Denver, CO and its ultimate end, 2,200 miles away in Cove Fort, UT. Seeing the sign reminded me of how I had always romanticized about driving cross country. National Lampoon's Vacation-style. Stopping at all the cheesy tourist attractions. Meeting interesting people and having enlightening adventures along the way. I even seriously considered doing this many years ago when my friend, Rachel, lived in Salt Lake City. An odyssey. A cathartic experience. A character-builder. Then, yesterday...while romanticizing...I remembered how much I hate being in the car.

I have experienced the same realization about hiking. I went through a phase, post-college, where I wanted to hike the entire Appalachian Trail. I saw a documentary following several people who did just that and even followed an early version of a blog from a woman who hiked the trail and while hiking, she would write letters and send them to a friend, who then posted them online. I was fascinated. Mesmerized. This hiking adventure would change my life. Make me more interesting. Challenge me. Then I went hiking and realized that after about an hour...there was no way I could spend 6 months of my life hiking all day, everyday. I would be miserable. 

When I was a little girl, I think I fantasized from time to time about being a patient in a hospital. I can tell you today, from experience now...there is nothing fantastic about being a patient. (Well, OK...having a call button...and people waiting on you has some perks...but it does get old after an hour or 2). I also fantasized about being a teacher...and I still remember, with stark clarity, the moment that fantasy became reality as I wrote my name across the blackboard at Cluster Springs Elementary School. And, you know what, I hated it. I was not made for teaching. 

What does all this say about me? Am I delusional? Foolishly optimistic? Pathetically un-self-aware? I don't know. I don't even know where I am going with this. Ha ha. All I know is that fantasy and reality are often two very different things. Wig shopping...not so fantastic. Shaving your head...nah...not that great. Being unemployed and financially supported by another...well...OK...it definitely can be nice. But, if my option was to be employed and not have cancer, I'd choose employment every time. And I hate working. That is how much I hate cancer more. Ha ha. 

Anyway...I just felt like writing. And so I did. Reading back over it, I sound pretty down. Maybe I am. But, it is temporary. It always is. In fact, I think that usually when I feel the pity train pulling in the station...it is a sign that the pity train will be moving on very soon and I will be back to fighting with a smile. Stay tuned for a health update...I know it's a bit overdue. 

Love you! Vashni

"Ikea: Selling furniture for college kids and divorced men..."

As many of you know, I took my husband to IKEA this past weekend. I was so excited that he agreed to go...after all..."the bookshelves aren't going to buy themselves, you know, honey"? While riding in the car on the way there, I kept babbling about the prices and the food and the showroom and on and on. And he kept making these frowny faces and bitching about the traffic. LOL.

When we entered the parking lot and he could see how many cars and people were already in their IKEA glory, he muttered something along the lines of "Oh, hell no". But, we proceeded. As we walked the 4,000 football fields through the parking lot, I point out the Swedish meatball sign..."Look, honey, the meatballs!! Only $2.99"! To which, he responds with a "hmph". My enthusiasm is quickly waning.

Once inside, I tried to get my bearings. IKEA can be overwhelming even on a good day and now I had to contend with Saturday crowds and a husband who hates both shopping and people. I knew I had to find those bookshelves and I had to find them fast. But, as anyone who has ever been to IKEA knows...there is no fast way to get to anything. The store is a complete labyrinth...only in this case, once you reach the center, there is no inner peace. No...not with my husband. By now he was grumbling obscenities every 42 seconds and I was starting to sweat and push people. I decided that the best course of action was to shut everything out and follow those damned floor arrows to the bookshelves. Then, again, shut everything out...head down, ears averted and follow those damned floor arrows to the self-help furniture warehouse. Never in my life have I been so discontent inside of IKEA. This was not your usual IKEA shopping experience. There was no time to even eye the prices and happily gasp "look...only $34.99...for all of that"! Nope. Not with my husband. :o)

We did eventually purchase our shelves, load them in the car, drive them home, unload them and recover. The IKEA store is approximately 25 minutes from our house. We made it there and back, with the getting stuck in traffic, the running through the store and the purchasing of the shelves, in a little over an hour. Record-breaking. Never again. IKEA cannot be experienced this way. It is against the Nordic tradition. You win, hubs. Next time...I go alone. LOL.

My husband and I once constructed a futon. It's a great futon and looking at it, you would never know the blood, the sweat, the tears that went into it. The process wasn't pretty and if we weren't so exhausted from the act of getting the futon into an operable functioning condition, we may have murdered each other with the wooden slats that hold that lovely piece of furniture together.

That being said, I build all of our assembly-required furniture myself, alone, now. It's safer for everyone that way. I love building IKEA furniture. The little drawings that you have to decipher. They make me laugh. Sometimes they make me curse. But, in the end, once I build something...I feel like I am amazing. Amazing. I built bookshelves. I rock. I am woman, hear me roar. Damn...I want some meatballs.

And...Thanks Jamie...for your viewing pleasure.... IKEA by Jonathan Coulton

As the Universe Unfolds...

I have been trying to open my eyes to the messages of the universe more lately. The things that cross my path that don't seem to just be "coincidence". Like how right before this cancer diagnosis, my husband and I moved to an area much closer to my family and childhood friends. An area where there is great medical care. Like how we found a house within 2 miles of an old college friend. And how my husband landed a job that pays enough that I can remain unemployed and focus on my health without worrying too much about finances. A job with good health insurance. Like how one of my childhood friends married into a family and circle of friends who has become pivotal in my emotional support. These things can't be just coincidence. I guess they could be...but I choose not to see it that way. I wonder how far back it goes...this way the universe has unfolded to meet so many of my basic needs as I face this battle. Without my husband, without my family nearby, without financial stability...this would be a whole different struggle.

Why the universe handed me cancer...that is still a mystery to me. Some people say that cancer is a gift (not that you would want to give it to anyone else). That it opens you up to life and fully living. That it gives you a wake up call to get it together before it's too late. I'm not there yet. I still have days when I say "why me". I still wonder what I have done wrong to be given this illness. What kind of karmic joke is this? Did I not get the message in 2008 with my first diagnosis, so now the universe needs to kick me harder? (Actually, that's possible...I really didn't get the message back then. I never questioned my chance of survival back then. I never wondered about the deeper meaning of my life. I just dealt with it and continued on my merry way.) Now...it's hard to escape it. I have to face whatever it is that the universe is trying to tell me.

I don't know why I have been dealt this card, but when it comes down to it, I am grateful that I drew this card and not my loved ones...though I don't know which would be harder...being the one fighting the battle or being the one watching someone I love fight the battle. Either way it's a crap-shoot.

There are things I struggle with daily now that I never did before. For one, I fear that if I accept that I could die from this...that I am inviting it to happen. I worry that if I try to deal with the fact that the cancer could spread more, I am somehow visualizing it into being. Every ache and pain is an invitation to question how many days I have left. It's impossible not to have doubts. It's impossible to stay positive and upbeat all the time. Impossible. Yet, when I let the doubt creep in, I tend to beat myself up about it. Where's my faith? Where's my optimism? How do I accept all outcomes without giving up the one I hope for? This sucks!

Anyway...I digress. Two weekends ago when we were visiting my brother-in-law and his family, we went to church. And a book was passed around for a women's book club/study group. And, I held it and read it's cover...One Thousand Gifts ~ A Dare to Live Fully Right Where You Are by Ann Voskamp. I decided that the book didn't cross my path by chance, but rather for a reason. I bought it. So did my lovely sister-in-law. And we both have been reading it and studying it and enjoying it. Of course, she read it in like one evening and I am still making my way through. But, I am enjoying "reading it together". Ann Voscamp, on a dare, starts a list of 1,000 things that make her happy. One thousand! One thousand things that bring her joy. Simple things. And in writing this list, she realizes how happy this list makes her. How counting her daily blessings makes her daily annoyances diminish and her blessing multiple. How naming these gifts in her life gives them more power to help her live more fully and pay attention to all the good things we often miss. God is in the details.

I wrote this whole post and babbled on and on just to get to this one point: I want to make my own list.

Where's My Manual?

I have been feeling rather uninspired...blog-wise...lately. I guess I don't have a lot to say, which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Things this month, or shall we say in 2012, have been a little out of routine thus far, and while I am  grateful, happy and appreciative of all the visitors and help I have had these past 3 weeks in my life, I am glad to be back in a little bit more of my own routine (IF you can even call what I do on a daily basis a "routine"...ha ha, but I am working on this). 

One thing that I have been trying to do this month, even in the midst of minor surgery, chemo, transfusions, travel, guests, etc. is to do some sort of daily devotional. A moment each day (usually in bed at night) where I read a devotional and think about what it means in my life. Journal about it. Or just meditate on it. I chose (at first) for some reason Rick Warren's daily devotionals for a Purpose-Driven Life. For those of you who don't know...Rick Warren is the leader of an evangelical megachurch and in all honesty, is probably a little over-the-top religious for my taste, but I had read portions of his book in the early 2000's and thought I would give his devotionals a shot.

Here is where the "at first" remark comes in. Turns out that I can't relate right now. Or my goals are a little different. His devotionals were all about acknowledging where you are, where you want to be, what you want to have in 10 years and the step-by-step plan you need to develop to get there....and all I could think was..."in 10 years, I want to be ALIVE". I can't think about career goals or certain life goals right now. All I want right now is to survive this. To be healthy and cancer-free. I want to make it to 2013 and beyond, much less 2022. There is no step-by-step plan for overcoming cancer. I can think about what I can do right now to make my life full and to make my chances better, but 10 years from now? I don't know if I have that much time...(and that took A LOT for me to say out loud...ugh). But, really, when I think about it...none of us do. None of us know when our number will be up. (Ugh...I still hate to think about any of this at all)!

So, anyway...the conundrum I came upon while trying to do these daily devotionals is not something new for me. I have always struggled with the "how do I live in the present, enjoy it, AND plan for the future"? How does one find the balance? Now, this age-old quandary feels even more significant to me.

My goal for tomorrow and for 10 years from now is to be a healthy, vibrant, active, fit, productive, successful and CANCER-FREE babe who is an inspiring and FUNNY writer, who manages life from a place of inner peace and who maintains a happy healthy marriage and lots of supportive and positive friendships. Some of these I do have now, some I can work towards. But, cancer-free...that I have no control over. And that is what is really hard for me. All I can do is do my best and have faith. (But, I sure do wish there was a step-by-step and proven-effective instructional manual for surviving cancer)!!

Anyway, for those wondering, my blood transfusion last Friday put me over the moon! I didn't feel it til Saturday. I even cried Friday night cause I was so upset that I still felt so bad. And even though I felt better Saturday, I think it took me til Monday to realize how good I actually felt.  I can take the stairs over and over. I can go for walks. I can clean and cook and just be a human being. It's awesome. Juicy blood and platelets are my friend. 

A Love Infusion

I just had a dream that I was carrying around two donor kidneys in a cooler...just in case...I needed them at some point. Yes, these are the kinds of dreams I have on a regular basis and this one isn't even THAT weird. In my dream, I started to wax philosophic about how these kidneys belonged to someone else and that someone else's juicy kidneys could save my life. Mind you...as far as I know, I don't need new kidneys, but hey...it was just a dream.

What I do need is more blood. Tomorrow, I get another blood transfusion. This time, 2 units of red blood cells and 2 units of platelets. This will take pretty much my whole day, which initally (ok currently) has me bummed out because...it's just so incovenient to be tied to a pole all day (ha) when there is so much living to be done. Alas, my energy is so low, I would probably be laying in bed at home anyway...but at least it would be MY bed. Sigh. At any rate, I AM glad to have this option. To be infused with juicy healthy life-enhancing blood. And I am super thankful to all the people who are able to and who take the time to donate their juicy blood for people like me. It does make a difference! If you donate, keep donating!! If you are one of those people who passes out or gets ill when donating...for God's sake...don't put yourself through that...but if you do...wow...I am SUPER EXTRA UBER grateful to you. But, don't feel guilty if you can't donate (I don't think I can), just find another way to be awesome.

The parallel of "Take. Drink. For this is the blood of Christ, taken for you" (I hope I got those words right. LOL) has not been lost on me. The idea that someone else's blood is entering my veins and giving me a renewed level of energy and fight and vitality is really pretty amazing. A gift really. A selfless gift from someone I don't even know. Thank you stranger...for your blood giveth me strength.

I got a gift in the mail today. One of many I have received over the past several months. (I would try to list the awesome gifts I have received here, but I am terrified that I would overlook someone and that would be awful because I am grateful for every gift I have received. You are all so amazing...or should I say a-mah-zing balls)! Anyway...it occurred to me that my friends and family are my lifeblood. Each time I am feeling down and out, someone shows up in one way or another and infuses me with love and support  and encouragement. A friend infusion. A love infusion. It renews my fight and my vitality and reminds me that...with friends, I am never ever alone. I am so beyond grateful for these gifts and gestures that keep coming my way. They are, in a way, the push I need some days to keep on believing (key the Journey music) and I honestly do not know how I would get by without them.

I have been pretty terrible about getting thank you cards out (I am working on that...New Year's resolution-wise), but please know that every kind word, text, email, phone call, visit, FB post, delivered package is appreciated and brings a smile to my face and an even bigger smile to my heart. It infuses me with a warm happy glow knowing that I have such awesome friends and family members. I can only hope to be half as awesome as all of you when someone I love is in need. Which reminds me...I think...in my little world of Vashni: cancer patient...I can sometimes forget that y'all have your own problems and obstacles (and sometimes certain people..eh hmm..will hide their troubles from me) so please forgive me if I have not been there to give you a love infusion when you needed it...and please give me a swift kick in the bum the next time it happens. I have so much love coming my way that I have plenty to pass on when needed. Unlike my not-so-appealing blood...my cup runneth over with love...let me pass it on to you if you need some.
 

Jamaica-Mon

Hello! The winter solstice has come upon us!! I learned in high school that the winter solstice means that the sun will now progressively makes it's way closer to us. It's my glass-half-full approach to the winter blues and it has served me well for over 20 years. 

In addition to the sun moving closer to us, I (and my hubs and step-daughter) will be moving closer to the sun for 4 days between Christmas and New Year's as we embark on an adventurous family journey to Jamaica...

Yah. Jamaica-Mon.  Can you dig it? (I don't know if that last part is Jamaica-speak or just 80's, but it's fun to say).

I would be lying if I said I wasn't feeling a bit...umm...insecure with my pale skin, bald head, and prednisone-inflated face, neck, back, belly and butt. I have been wrestling with this issue for several weeks now. But, I realize that when it comes down to it...this vacation is about rest, relaxation, rejuvenation, vitamin D and being with my family...who love me bald, fat and pale. Everything and everyone else in Jamaica is just supplemental or scenery. Will I feel awkward the first few minutes I reveal my baldness to the other guests before dashing down the Pirate's Cove waterslide or swimming head first into the ocean? Yup. But, you know what? Meh. I'll get over it. They'll get over it (or have a lot of explaining to do to their kids...hee hee hee). And everyone will still have a great time.

On top of this insecurity...I was advised by my doctors and nurses that I should wear a mask on the plane...along  with frequent hand-washing and care with what I put in my mouth. Surgical masks on airplanes make me nostalgic for SARS and bird flu. What ever happened to those? Anyway...I will do the mask part because I don't really want anything to ruin Jamaica...but OY...it's not easy looking like a sick person when you are trying to just BE and FEEL normal!

In the past, I would have been doing everything I could in the preceding weeks to make myself look as much like a Victoria's Secret model as I could before unveiling any part of myself at a Caribbean resort. I would be trying hard to look like the most put-together Carrie Bradshaw-style traveler on the plane. I suppose my priorities have changed. And I think it's actually probably a good thing.

Anyway...we fly out in the morning...and underneath all the insecurity...I am BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS with excitement! Sun, sand, pina coladas, zip-lining, river tubing, food, fun and the vast open sky and ocean...await me. What better place is there to sit and meditate on the amazing-ness of life?

I bought my stepdaughter clip-on "mood" earrings for Christmas. She has been wearing them around all afternoon asking "What color are they"? When we say "purple", she responds with "That is because I AM SO EXCITED"!! Me too, little one, me too!!

Look out Jamaica...the DePaz's are about to tear things up!!

Is Nebby Even a Word?

So...the other night, one of my friends was all..."I'm talking to so and so and she is having some drama with her man"...and I found my heart beating a little faster and my ears perk up with a certain sharpness and I got a little excited and and and...I realized that I TOTALLY miss office gossip. 

Anyone who has worked with me knows that I am the girl who likes to be "in the know". It is shameful, I know. But, there it is. It's not that I am walking about spewing hateful rumors and gossip about people...it's just that...well...I am nosy. Nebby. Whatever the latest word for it is. I like to be up in dah people's bid-nezz. Not really...but well yeah...kinda...really. I just find humans to be fascinating. I like knowing what makes them so grumpy or so angry or why was so and so crying in the bathroom yesterday? And did that girl and that guy just go away for the same week of work and come back with wedding rings? Do tell. I love me some good juice.

Shameful.

But, whatever. It's in my DNA. I think. It must serve some biological or ecological purpose or something like that. Yeah. 

My husband is the complete opposite.  He PREFERS to know NOTHING about ANYONE. He would be happiest in a little solitary cocoon of silence (and perhaps some Beavis and Butthead and fart jokes). One of his favorite quotes (from Ron Swanson of "Parks and Recreation") is:  

"The less I know about other people’s affairs, the happier I am. I’m not interested in caring about people. I once worked with a guy for three years and never learned his name. Best friend I ever had. We still never talk sometimes.”

I think, in fact, that my husband has some internal ear plug that inserts itself as soon as anyone starts to share information about their life. Likewise, he never tells anyone...ANYONE...anything. He is "THE VAULT"....which isn't a bad quality, for sure. But, as the person in my life who is most accessible to work gossip...he is completely useless for fulfilling this nebby need of mine. (Plus, I am pretty sure that he and I were married before any of his workmates even knew he was dating someone. Geesh. Share a little? Come on!)

Anyway...the point is...I miss gossip. I miss having those sort of peripheral people in my life...the work people who I just know from 9-5 and then they go home to their lives and I go home to mine. (This is not to diminish the fact that I miss my real work friends...the ones who I knew from 9-5 and then text, email, call...I miss them terribly. Way more.) But, there is something comforting about trite, innocent gossip. That "gasp" you hear when you find out that the guy from such and such department got fired for having "inappropriate relations" with the lady in so and so's department. I miss that. I need some peripheral people. Send me some gossip y'all!

Why Did God Make French Fries Taste So Good and Red Beets Taste So Bad?

Today is technically Day 14 of Operation: Kill Cancer. I say "technically" because  I have sort of fallen off the wagon the last week. Ever since the juice fast, I have been slacking off. Not horribly. I haven't been binging on donuts and vodka or anything, but I haven't been juicing, journaling, walking. I have a tendency to do this. I love making a "plan". A to-do list. A schedule. I get myself pumped up. I get myself all organized. Get all my tools and resources together. And then, if I actually start the plan, I fizzle out pretty quickly. 

I am not gonna let myself off the hook that easy this time though. Just because I slacked off doesn't mean I have to abandon the whole effort. Right? I will just regroup, recommit and continue as best I can. I have decided that I do not have to be perfect at it. That is too stressful and no fun.

In all honesty, I have juiced the last two mornings and the last two mornings I have felt better than I have in a week. It makes a difference. I wonder why it is so hard to take that first step...to do the thing that we know makes us feel better?? Where does this mindset come from? Like...I know that eating a quarter-pounder with fries and a coke will make me feel fat and bloated and disgusted with myself...but, it probably wouldn't take much arm-twisting for me to give in and eat that (oh sweet juicy burger and greasy fries and sugar-laden soft drink...how I love thee). But, it took me a week to juice some greens even though I knew it would make me feel less fat and bloated and overall just better? 

I know that exercise makes me feel better and lighter and happier...yet I can't take that first step out the door. The other day...all I wanted to do was lay in the bed, go back to sleep, cocoon and hibernate and shut the world out. I finally forced myself to do a short easy qigong exercise and bam! I was energized (which was the point of the whole exercise)! But, WHY do I have to FORCE myself to do things that I know will make me feel better?? Can someone please explain this phenomenon to me?

I think...based on conversations with friends and family...this is a normal way to be. Even devout fitness fanatics have trouble taking that first step out the door. But, it doesn't really make sense to me...why we are programmed to want the "bad" stuff and to be lazy when our bodies and minds thrive so much more when we eat the "good" stuff and move our bodies. Why did God make french fries taste so good and red beets taste so bad?

If anyone has the answers to these questions or can provide me with the "secret" to getting off my lazy bum and making the healthy lifestyle changes that I know will help  me thrive...please share. Share! 

I will be waiting for your answer from under my warm comfy covers while watching trashy TV and dreaming about french fries.

My Body is a Wonderland

I started reading a new book this morning. This one is about cell-level healing. It's about how amazing our bodies are with their millions of cells and how we as humans can somehow connect spiritually with our bodies at their deepest most scientific level and heal. The body is the temple to the spirit. And stuff. Blah blah blah.

Anyway...while reading, the author asked me to stop and appreciate my body. Acknowledge it's power. Be amazed by all the things it does to keep me alive without me even knowing. So, I did. Then she asked me to stop and list 4 things that I appreciate about my body. So, I did. Here they are:

1. I appreciate the way my body moves. Walking, skipping, jogging, dancing, jumping...it gets me up and down the stairs a gadzillion times a day. Around the lake. Up a mountain. Across the pool Through the grocery store. It gets me to the refrigerator and lets me chop veggies at the counter. It gets me to the bed for a restful night of sleep. There are plenty of people in this world who don't have this simple gift of movement that I take for granted everyday. Thank you, body!
2. I appreciate the way my brain processes my thoughts and lets me express them. Chatting with friends. Nagging my husband. Journaling. Writing this blog. Just sitting and contemplating. Telling my loved ones I love them. Pen to paper. Finger to keyboard. It's amazing how I can think (period) and how those thoughts find their way into my world. Thank you, brain!
3. I appreciate the way my body digests and processes the things I put into it. It filters out the bad stuff and absorbs all the good. When I think about all the filtering my body had to do in its younger years....beer, wine, vodka, the occasional cig, burgers, fries, sugar...it's truly amazing the work it's done for me! And, now...all the medicines going in...my cells having to try and discern what to use and what to throw out. My liver. My kidneys. My lymphatic system. My skin. Thank you, filtering fellas!
4. I appreciate the way my lungs breathe and my heart beats without my ever having to think about it. All those little (but huge live-saving) processes that go on even when our minds are occupied with everything else. My breath. My heartbeat. All proof that I woke up alive today. Thank you, organs!

After I finished this little exercise...I realized that the true things that I appreciate about my body...to my amazement...have nothing to do with what size pants I am wearing these days or how I look in the latest style of jeans or what I see when I look at my bald head in the mirror.  This, in itself, is a big change for me, I think. Yes, I am a woman, therefore, I still beat myself up about my thighs and my belly and my lack of physical fitness. But, really...when it comes down to it...I appreciate the fact that I can walk around the block (even if I sound like a broken lawn mower walking up the hill) and that my thighs can get me up and down those stairs at home, even if I can't put on my favorite jeans from last winter, and that mah belly gurgles with lovingly-prepared food, even if I almost always wish it protruded a little less fully from my body. I should BE so lucky.

I Need a New "C"attitude!

Today was Day 1 of Operation: Kill Cancer. I am reluctant to use that phrase because there is nothing calm and peaceful and loving about the word "kill" (or "cancer" for that matter). But, it is what came out when I was typing the other day, so we'll stick with it for now.

Midway through Day 1, I noticed that I started off my day sort of going through the motions of my new "daily to do". Warm lemon water. Check. Neti pot. Check. Walk with dog, green juice, supplements, check, check, check. Crossing them off and not really paying much attention to what I was doing or how I was feeling. I realized, at some point, that this is totally counter-productive to the slowing down and being present and paying attention that I was aiming for. Ha ha. So, after I breezed through a swim and a follow-up pass through the sauna...I came home to get a little more focused.

*Side note: This was my first time to the pool with the bald head. I wore a swim cap...which is decidedly uncomfortable with no hair. LOL. It sucked to my scalp like a vacuum. Also, since my latest eye adventure, I can't see without my glasses. This is a very new thing for me. Just walking around at the pool "guessing" at what I was looking at. On the other hand, when I did decide to take the swim cap off (I think un-breathable latex on the head is a bad idea in a sauna), I was unable to discern any reactions from people's faces. I am not sure if this was a good or bad thing for me. Ha ha. Meh.

Anyway...when I got home, I decided it was time to sit down and get real with myself. Try some stillness, inner sanctity, find my Buddha nature what-have-you. Something like that. I am still on a learning curve here. But, I sat my arse down, wrapped myself in my new blanket and lit a candle. And then...I watched the cat.

I think that the cat has this stuff figured out. Seriously. He was mesmerized by the candle flame. He stared at it intently for at least 5 minutes. He was smiling. Just totally happy and content. He didn't appear to be thinking about the laundry that needed to be done or worrying about whether or not his heart would keep beating throughout day. He wasn't wondering if he was good enough. If he loved enough. If he was loved enough. If he gave enough at the office Christmas charity or was too selfish at the Thanksgiving table. He just was there. In it. Happy. He seems to know how to live fully every moment of his day. And not feel guilty about it! Imagine!

So...I started thinking..."How can I be more like this cat?" Of course, life's expectations of a cat are pretty low-key. We expect them to nap throughout the day and play with Christmas ornaments and bask in the sunshine without a care in the world. (To the orange cat's credit...I think this cat WOULD clean if he knew how. He always seems very interested in helping. I think he might read too, if he could, as he likes to lay on top of my books and magazines and I think I have seen him attempt to use a pen. For real. Seriously.) 

With the holidays approaching (who am I kidding...they're here), I am gonna try to be a little more like the cat. I am going to take some time to bask in the sunshine patch and stare mesmerized at the Christmas ornaments and not feel guilty for taking some carefree time to do so. (Note: Just typing this invokes guilt...we have a long way to go to being cat-like!) But, I am going to TRY...TRY to be a little more IN IT and HAPPY and CONTENT and a little less frazzled and "guilty" and stressed. I know. Easier said than done people...easier said than done. 

Here's my little holiday bucket list of things to bask in:

• Take time to stare at the Christmas lights
• Blast Christmas music throughout the house and get my Christmas dance on (maybe rip up some wrapping paper and ribbon a la Sid the Cat)
• Send out blessings to my friends and family, near and far
• Get into the giving-ness of the season and let myself get carried away
• Zipline and tube while in Jamaica (that's right...I'm going to Jamaica this month) Sid can't do that! Sorry, lil buddy!
• Knead and hug and rub and love on all my soft fluffy loved-filled cancer-killing gifts...blankets, quilts, prayer shawls, fluffy socks....snuggles....

Legend Has It...

...that as a child...I was such a poor car traveler that my parents once drugged me with Dramamine to shut me up on a road trip. However, halfway through said road trip, they had to pull over and check my vitals because I was THAT comatose. They thought they may have overdone it and killed me. Imagine their initial relief at my silenced dramamined cries, followed by the panic of not being able to tell if their little girl was breathing, and then the subsequent relief again that I was alive and would not be screaming for quite some time. Ah parenting.

Today...I am still that terrible traveler. I may have toned down the screaming and crying part (though it is still happening on the inside and my husband has accused me now of making "old people noises" while car-riding). I don't know what it is. It is like being held in a straight-jacket. Tortured from the inside out. I can entertain myself here and there, but always ALWAYS the boredom sets in. The rocking-back-and-forth hysteria of being trapped. Inside a metal cage. Hurdling (or sometimes sitting still...the worst!) through space and time, but its just time being used up...faster and faster and and and getting nowhere all that fast and and...it drives me insane!

Yesterday while traveling south to pick up my stepdaughter, I dropped my precious cell phone under the seat. It was wedged up in there and I could not get it out no matter how many different ways I tried. Move the seat front. Move the seat back. Butt up in air. Sitting up. Laying down. It was stuck. My brother offered to pull over so it could be retrieved, but...I mean...that would just be silly. Surely, I could make it without holding my cell phone in my hand for the next 30 minutes when we were scheduled to reach our destination. But...oh....the internal agony! I would be ok for 5 minutes and then I would have to go through the whole operation again. Then calm down for 5 minutes and repeat. Pathetic.

I did make it the 30 minutes without the cell phone or any other form of entertainment aside from well...the radio, my brother, the scenery, the other travelers. It was just not enough. My internal drama was enough to make Cybil look like a completely sane person.

I love to travel...as in "be other places", but the getting there and getting back part. Horrid. Is there a pill for that? A teleportation trick? Can you bring Jamaica to me?

Anyway...since I like to be other places, I suppose I will have to continue to fight the evil travel demons that live inside me...but I do not think that I will ever be that person who can just "sit back and enjoy the ride". Nope. Never.

"Happies"

I have always been drawn to the world of self-help and personal-growth books. Send me to a library or a Barnes and Noble and you will find me in that section 99.9% of the time. You would think with all the books I own and have read on spirituality and self-esteem and what-have-you that I would pretty much have the world and my inner workings figured out. Not even close.

Anyway, one thing that I come across again and again is how having an "attitude of gratitude" is so absolutely beneficial to one's state of being. I have kept gratitude journals here and there over the years but I should do better. 

One of my best friends and I used to send each other lists of our daily *happies*. Ironically, looking back...the frequency of *happies*-sharing always occurred/occurs around times when we felt/feel least happy...but we have seen how well it works...how much it helps to pull us out of the dregs and open us up and feed our soul on the good stuff rather than the icky. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there is much to be thankful for. It's an amazing trick and so simple.

I haven't shared my *happies* in awhile...and in honor of Thanksgiving and all the gratitude exercises I have seen going 'round lately on The Facebook, I thought I'd see what I could come up with. Feel free to send your *happies* to me too because...it also seems that other people's *happies* make me happy. Happiness is in itself contagious and well...everyone could use a little extra happiness...especially around the stress of the holidays and flu season!

*I am happy for mint mocha lattes on a cold rainy day.
*I am happy for finding ladybugs in my house, in my car, at my doctor's office.
*I am happy for gummy vitamins.
*...new and old friends....making connections in the least expected places, in the least expected ways.
*... Sephora packages in the mail. (And a husband who just smiles and lets me buy myself a Sephora "treat" now and again.) There is one on its way today. Yay!
*... the sound of Coby's tail wagging early in the morning.
*... all the funny blogs available at my fingertips.
*... a family that is always there for me...just sitting and waiting for me to need them.
*... doctors and nurses who patiently field all my questions (I bring a new list every time).
*... hearty vegetable soup in the winter and cold crisp salad in the summer.
*... warm hugs from my husband.

*... back massages from the orange cat.

*... bubble baths.

*... pine-scented candles near the holidays.

*... green juice from my juicer.

*... clean laundry.

*... naps.

*... Parks and Recreation. Ohhh...and Modern Family.

*... Doritoes.

*... mashed potato stuffing and green bean casserole.

*... prayer shawls.

Oh my gosh....apparently, I could go on and on. See....there IS much to be thankful for and life is so much more bearable when we focus on those things. Send me yours!! It'll make you feel good...feel good...feel good....(remember  that anti-drug commercial from the 80s? I am happy for that too.)

Lost and Searching

So...back in August, I wrote a blog post about feeling kind of "lost" and "disoriented" as I entered this new phase of adulthood...that phase being marriage, stepmotherhood and relocating for the benefit of my spouse's career and happiness and our family's financial stability. You know...life beyond just Vashni.

When I met my husband, I was 34, independent, knee-deep in forging a "career" in "something" (I have never been very good at knowing what I want), and fairly happy being single and able to live my life for me.  My husband knows all too well how difficult it was for me to let someone into my well-established me-oriented world, but he was ever so persistent at breaking down those walls that I had spent many a year building around my safe little haven of Vashni-hood. I recall at some point in our courtship realizing that for, perhaps, the first time in my life...I was in a relationship in which I could fully be myself. Vashni was still here and this man seemed to like her and I wasn't pretending to be someone else to win his love. I was me. And he liked me. Whoa. I guess that is when I knew...it was ok to let this thing unfold and let my life mesh with someone else's.

Then I got married. And I got very confused. I suddenly felt this "need" to be something or someone that I wasn't. I felt like I had to be this great wife, housekeeper, stepmother, domestic diva/goddess, etc. Granted this was my expectation of myself, not my husband's. I brought this identity crisis on all by lonesome...though, I suppose, there have been plenty of moments I have wanted to and probably have laid the blame on him. It's not his fault. It's my own doing. But, anyway...somewhere between "I do" and the present moment...I really lost my sense of self.

Then we moved. And even though we discussed this beforehand and I was on board and excited for change, I started to feel even more lost and confused and kind of...powerless (?). I left my job, which while I complained a great deal about said job...I really did find a lot of satisfaction in it. I was "going places" in the company. I was valued and appreciated. And now...I lost that on top of everything else I felt so lost and confused about.

There is a point to this whole schpeel, I promise. I was reading back in my journal from the days shortly after we moved. During the time when we had 3 of us in a 1-bedroom apartment to be exact. During the time when I was definitely not handling this change well at all. And in my journal I wrote "This is killing me! Soon there will be nothing of ME left." Wow. How prophetic of me. Ha. 

The nugget here that I am getting at...is that some part of me feels that my reaction to all this change...my sense of loss of The Vashni...somehow contributed to the actual dis-ease that has planted itself in my body. I know I cannot hold myself responsible for "getting cancer". That is silly. But, I keep reading about all these cancer survivors who also got cancer after going through major life change. Of course, not everyone going through major life change gets cancer, but seriously...there is a trend. There is some connection to the way we handle life's stressors that affects our body's ability to fight off these rogue cells. But, I am thinking...in that same manner...there has to be some connection in how I handle this diagnosis that will contribute to my healing and surviving. Yes..I lost my sense of self and my sacred personal power (how ironic that my tumor is in my sacral space) but perhaps finding myself again and my purpose and my Vashni-mojo will help me heal and bring me back to life. Back from the brink of "soon there will be nothing of ME left" to "here I am"!

And so...the quest begins...my new life purpose right now is to find Vashni again. We already know that Vashni is not her hair (LOL) and Vashni is not a domestic goddess (let's just be real and stop pretending). Vashni is a writer (I love to write and I thank you all for your positive affirmations about my writing). Vashni is a fighter. Vashni is good enough just the way she is and so are you, my friends. Don't ever let anyone (or yourself) make you feel any different!

One last thing I want to say today...just to be clear. My husband has been nothing but supportive. He is allowing me the space to heal and grow no matter how bizarre the approach I try. While there have been times that I have surely insinuated that this disappearance of the Vashni is all his fault, I truly know that it is not. We made these decisions together and in the best interest of our lives and futures. And in the same way that he didn't break me, he can't fix me. I am really glad though that he is here to be by my side while I work on fixing myself (along with doctors, therapists, alternative healers, besties and family, etc). Hopefully, when all this is over and I am feeling all whole again, our relationship will be stronger than ever. I know it will. It already is.