I feel like crap. Today started out well, and then I had a fight with my husband and I haven't really felt good since. Technically we're reconciled, and he's babysitting kids for the moment so I can have some time to myself (yay, David!). But wow, I wish I'd feel better. Today's just... lame. Full of lame, and sucktitude, and all the cocoa in the world isn't helping.
Blarg.
Tomorrow shall be a better day. Tomorrow David takes his first final. Thursday is his second final. Saturday is Shelley's party, meaning a trip to Salt Lake. I dunno if I'm taking kids to that or not. I'd really, really like to leave them home, but I don't know if I can find a babysitter. Both Matt and Shay are moving at the end of this week. I dunno if I can help either of them.
I need like... 8 hours of solitude.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
People are Irrational
I worry that people will cease to look at me and instead only see my bad eye. It's not really bothering me, just something that tickles my brain on occasion. I'm excited to get my prosthetic eye, so I'll have two green eyes again (and not have to worry about putting on an eye patch to open the door for visitors or go out). Also, I haven't had two green eyes in a long time. It's been one green and one brown... So I'm looking forward to getting my prosthetic.
I think people are over-pitying me. Yeah, I acknowledge that having cancer sucks, and losing an eye sucks, and part of me feels like my body is no longer whole. But it still works. I can still see. The rest of me is healthy. I can do everything I could do before I lost an eye. Quit thinking that I'm dying or that this is the end of the world!
People in church aren't going to leave me alone until I let them bring me a meal or babysit. "You must need help with kids now!" ...Like every other mother in the ward wouldn't like extra help, too? I tell them I'm fully functional, and they're not listening to me.
So to resolve that, I told them to bring me a meal and set up a rotating babysitting service in the ward. But that only appeases one group of people. I'm told there are other people who are still wringing their hands. Apparently my grandmother thinks I'll never recover. I think I'd like to kick her in the head. You know what "not recovering" looks like? It's my brother-in-law's best friend who went through a long ordeal with chemotherapy and surgery and almost died with colon cancer. He thought he was done. And then his screening came back with abnormalities on his innards again, so now they're telling him he's got to be on chemo for the rest of his life. THAT'S what not recovering looks like. Yes, I've lost an eye. I won't get it back in this life. But I can still SEE, and DO, and FUNCTION.
I suspect I'm going to bite somebody's head off the next time they call me "you poor thing" or something equally stupid. I had the best health care possible. I live in the best country possible. I have luxurious food, shelter, clothing, entertainment, education, family support, etc. Everyone's healthy. So SHUT UP about how "hard" you think my life is.
Today is the first day of sunlight after 3 days of rain and snow. I'm gonna go outside with my kids, and then clean my house.
I think people are over-pitying me. Yeah, I acknowledge that having cancer sucks, and losing an eye sucks, and part of me feels like my body is no longer whole. But it still works. I can still see. The rest of me is healthy. I can do everything I could do before I lost an eye. Quit thinking that I'm dying or that this is the end of the world!
People in church aren't going to leave me alone until I let them bring me a meal or babysit. "You must need help with kids now!" ...Like every other mother in the ward wouldn't like extra help, too? I tell them I'm fully functional, and they're not listening to me.
So to resolve that, I told them to bring me a meal and set up a rotating babysitting service in the ward. But that only appeases one group of people. I'm told there are other people who are still wringing their hands. Apparently my grandmother thinks I'll never recover. I think I'd like to kick her in the head. You know what "not recovering" looks like? It's my brother-in-law's best friend who went through a long ordeal with chemotherapy and surgery and almost died with colon cancer. He thought he was done. And then his screening came back with abnormalities on his innards again, so now they're telling him he's got to be on chemo for the rest of his life. THAT'S what not recovering looks like. Yes, I've lost an eye. I won't get it back in this life. But I can still SEE, and DO, and FUNCTION.
I suspect I'm going to bite somebody's head off the next time they call me "you poor thing" or something equally stupid. I had the best health care possible. I live in the best country possible. I have luxurious food, shelter, clothing, entertainment, education, family support, etc. Everyone's healthy. So SHUT UP about how "hard" you think my life is.
Today is the first day of sunlight after 3 days of rain and snow. I'm gonna go outside with my kids, and then clean my house.
Friday, April 10, 2009
CRANKY!
As I get to feeling better and resuming normal life, I seem to be getting crankier. I seem to be just furious with the universe. I lay in bed trying to sleep and my brain just started in on "I hate my life. I hate this apartment. Why don't we have a house yet?" Which is stupid because I LIKE THIS APARTMENT. It's the right size for us right now, it has great playgrounds for my kids, it's conveniently located by school, etc.
And my kids are driving me nuts. And I want my husband's full attention and am mad when he's not paying full attention to me every minute when he's got things he needs to be doing. And I seem to be mad at EVERYBODY for anything humanly possible... It's not rational.
I took a nap to see if that would help. Ate food. Still violently cranky.
Why am I so cranky?
And my kids are driving me nuts. And I want my husband's full attention and am mad when he's not paying full attention to me every minute when he's got things he needs to be doing. And I seem to be mad at EVERYBODY for anything humanly possible... It's not rational.
I took a nap to see if that would help. Ate food. Still violently cranky.
Why am I so cranky?
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Back From Philly Sans Eye
We went to Philadelphia. We includes myself, my husband, our two children, and my parents. My parents were there to watch my children. We decided taking the kids with us was a better option than leaving them behind for days on end, especially since we didn't know an exact date we'd be coming home. We knew we'd be gone at least a week, which is a long time for little kids to be without their parents.
To make a long story short, they removed my right eye. Cancer had spread across my entire iris, seeded from the original tumor.
My dad and my husband took it very hard. You'd think from reading this blog that my dad's a jerk, and sometimes he is and most often to his wife, but he does care about us. So he worried a lot and was incredibly supportive. They were on their best behavior during the trip.
I have not freaked out once since we left for Philadelphia and came home. I didn't freak out during 8 hours of testing, or during a biopsy, or when they told me I was going to lose my eye, or after surgery when I sat in a hotel for days unable to do anything, or now that the bandages are off and I can see my swollen, bruised eye and know that I'll never see out of it again. I really do keep expecting my other eye's vision to come back any minute, but logically I know that's not happening. It's like when my grandpa died(step-grandpa, really, but he was the grandpa I knew from birth til my early 20s when he passed away). You go to think of him, and your brain just says, "He's not here right now." And you'll always get that "not right now" message but there's no real emotion attached to it.
Anyway, my theory is that I'm on enough prayer rolls that I've had spiritual help not freaking out, or maybe I'm just not dealing with emotions at all.
I know I miss my eye. I want my two eyes again. Depth perception is off, and it's frustrating to know that it's permanent. But I won't get it back, so there's no point in mourning.
I have been reminded to be grateful instead. I had the best care from family and friends and doctors that I could have possibly had. Everyone else is healthy and relatively happy. I know what it’s like to not be able to see, to not be able to get up (like when I had my c-sections), to choose between doing something you really don’t want to do or die. I can use this knowledge to be grateful for what I have and to push myself to do better and be better at doing things, helping people, etc.
So, there you have it.
To make a long story short, they removed my right eye. Cancer had spread across my entire iris, seeded from the original tumor.
My dad and my husband took it very hard. You'd think from reading this blog that my dad's a jerk, and sometimes he is and most often to his wife, but he does care about us. So he worried a lot and was incredibly supportive. They were on their best behavior during the trip.
I have not freaked out once since we left for Philadelphia and came home. I didn't freak out during 8 hours of testing, or during a biopsy, or when they told me I was going to lose my eye, or after surgery when I sat in a hotel for days unable to do anything, or now that the bandages are off and I can see my swollen, bruised eye and know that I'll never see out of it again. I really do keep expecting my other eye's vision to come back any minute, but logically I know that's not happening. It's like when my grandpa died(step-grandpa, really, but he was the grandpa I knew from birth til my early 20s when he passed away). You go to think of him, and your brain just says, "He's not here right now." And you'll always get that "not right now" message but there's no real emotion attached to it.
Anyway, my theory is that I'm on enough prayer rolls that I've had spiritual help not freaking out, or maybe I'm just not dealing with emotions at all.
I know I miss my eye. I want my two eyes again. Depth perception is off, and it's frustrating to know that it's permanent. But I won't get it back, so there's no point in mourning.
I have been reminded to be grateful instead. I had the best care from family and friends and doctors that I could have possibly had. Everyone else is healthy and relatively happy. I know what it’s like to not be able to see, to not be able to get up (like when I had my c-sections), to choose between doing something you really don’t want to do or die. I can use this knowledge to be grateful for what I have and to push myself to do better and be better at doing things, helping people, etc.
So, there you have it.
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