Aug. 14: Back, baby.

For a while there, my blog was dying a slow death. Blogging frequently is a habit that has to be developed, for sure, and my habit has gone in waves over the 15 years I’ve been writing—there are times I have so much to share that I can’t hit the “publish” button soon or often enough, and other times when most of what’s happening in my life is not write-about-able.

In the past several months I’ve opted to considerably filter my writing, which I’ve never been all that careful to do. I started journaling on paper again because putting my thoughts into words is so therapeutic for me—I realized I needed to get them down, whether anyone else could read them or not. And now, as I look back at the things I felt I couldn’t/shouldn’t share on my blog, I see that some weren’t really that big a deal anyway; I plan to write about those in coming weeks. Others were a big deal and still are, and those will stay in my journal for now.

It is not my intention to be all mysterioso and vague, so I’ll give you an idea of some of these things—though I think most of you already know.

• Now that I’m nearly four years post-treatment, I try to keep the cancer talk to a minimum here. When a person is told their cancer is in remission, it’s easy for an outsider to think of celebrating and being done with it—y’know, move on, next chapter. But it’s not that simple, because cancer doesn’t just end. Follow-up tests go on and on. Side effects linger. Fear and frustration are enemies that like to hang out on the fringe of everything I do. While I have welcomed the return to many of my pre-cancer ways of life, there are some things that have been forever changed by my experience, and I deal with them regularly. Some of it really sucks and because I don’t want it to suck, I try to fold those things in with the rest of life—because I am alive and I do know how fortunate I am for that and I am moving forward—but there are always challenges. You would tire of hearing about them as often as they come up—trust me on this. That’s why I don’t write about it often. But to the people who might think GEEZ, SHE’S STILL TALKING ABOUT CANCER???, I have a middle finger I’d like to show you. Maybe two. And I know other people who’d love to show you theirs too.
• A few years ago my relationship with a person who had always been—and I thought always would be—in my life came to an abrupt end. She made accusations, I tried to explain myself, and she said she refused to get in a pissing contest. I took that to mean there was no sense in me arguing (that is what that means, right?), so I backed off. She then decided I did this because I was angry, and now blames my anger as the reason we don’t speak. I find a tiny bit of comfort knowing that I am not the only person she’s done this to. But ugh—it’s like dealing with my grandma all over again: nothing is ever her fault. So, if this is such a big deal, why don’t I write more about it publicly? One, because it would annoy the hell out of whatever audience I have here. And two, because I feel an unreasonable duty to protect this person. I know it makes absolutely no sense, but there you have it. 
• I’ve occasionally mentioned that I deal with depression and anxiety. It’s surprising how many people still think these are not diseases but “moods” (oh, they are soooo not moods), and that they’re a choice, that it’s just a matter of deciding to be happy and deciding not to worry. Some of the people who think depression/anxiety = psychopath are people I love, and when they’re vocal about it, I take it personally. These illnesses are complex and un-fun to deal with, and it’s not exaggerating to say they affect EVERY part of one’s life. I am able to keep my head above water and am generally living a normal human existence, thanks to things and more things.
• Partly related to the above item, I have been trying to avoid blogging about whatever is inciting my latest rage or concern (though I will make exceptions for topics like, oh, OUR HEINOUS HOMEOWNERS’ ASSOCIATION). These triggers push me up on a soapbox that can get me in trouble or make me seem highly unlikable. That ain’t good. Worse, my triggers can send me into a funk from which I find great difficulty to recover. For instance, I’m not writing about Robin Williams, even though he’s been on my mind so much this week. I have thoughts, I do. They could be spread across several posts and I’d still have more. But for purposes of self-protection, I just can’t let myself dwell. (I do want to share, though, this beautifully composed sentence I read on a fashion site, of all places, immediately after the cause of Robin Williams’ death became public; I think it is such a realistic way to describe the tragedy of suicide: “There’s such agony in the fact that a person’s delivery of joy to everyone else can be so inversely proportionate to what they find in themselves.”) Sooo… rants? Only sometimes. 

Looking back to 1999, when I first started my blog, I remember thinking it would be a great way to keep family and friends up to date with our lives. It certainly has served that purpose well over the years, and I suppose that’s the biggest reason I can’t just chuck the whole thing. (Pssst: If you read Stuff Jen Says from 1999-now, really fast, it’s like a flip-book in which you can clearly see the route I took to bonkersville. Yaaaaaay.)

I also remember what a powerful tool my blog became while I was fighting cancer. I often wonder how else I would’ve felt such a strong sense of support and love—it really was an amazing thing to behold. That’s why, when I was diagnosed with cancer again in January, this was the first place I came to share the news. Many of you sent positive and  uplifting messages, and I felt ready to face the fight with a big ol’ army behind me. And THEN. Then I was incredibly embarrassed to pull it all back when, in March, my doctors decided that I didn’t have cancer after all. Happy news, yes, but humiliating to share. If it seems ridiculous that I would be embarrassed by such a thing, please just put yourself in my shoes; I felt like people would think I announced a recurrence just to get attention. (People do shit like that, y’know—I know someone who calls herself a “cancer survivor” because she once had a suspicious mole tested. It was benign, but BOY, does she like to act as though she knows what it’s like to have fought cancer.)

When it was time for getting re-tested for all the cancer stuff this summer, I shared with just a few people what was happening. Three weeks in June and July were spent in pretty much non-stop appointments and phone calls related to this testing. Now that they’re over, I feel okay to blog about the results, which are really quite simple in summary, and YES, SHE IS STILL TALKING ABOUT CANCER:

I had a PET scan mid-June and the same spots that lit up in January lit up again. It was scary and pissed us off. There were only slight changes in the size of the spots from the last PET, so that was good. They decided to do another needle biopsy (owie), which, just like the one in March, came back negative for cancer. Hooray! But don’t celebrate just yet… The radiologist wants to test again in six months because he thinks it’s very strange that these spots continue to act like cancer on scans. If they light up again, my oncologist says we’ll do an open biopsy, which is a surgical procedure. Pfffftt.

So we wait.

I hate the waiting. Waiting for these things is a trigger. My mind goes to dark places when there’s waiting. These places are deep and gloomy and it’s easy to get lost on the paths that lead to even more murkiness. Dark places are not fun or funny or light or silly or cheery or anything of the things I prefer in life. They’re dark. (And they’re places.)

I don’t think I should blog from the dark places. I really try not to.

Moving forward, my plan is to make blogging regularly a habit again. I would like my blog to do what it was originally created to do—keep our family and friends up-to-date with our lives. And yes, that means it won’t always be fun and happy, because life is not always fun and happy. But I have always tried my best to turn the dark stuff a teensy bit lighter. “We laugh to survive,” right?

And we avoid some topics to survive too.

Nov. 28: A blessing

Today I have a family story to share, which starts with this email from my mother-in-law. I printed it nine years ago and keep it with my cookbooks.

Darlene made this pumpkin pie for Thanksgiving 2003, where it was a huge hit. When I was asked to make dessert for Thanksgiving 2004 at my dad’s house, I asked her to share her recipe. It’s special because the crust is shortbread, and that makes it not only delicious, but easy. The one year I tried to make a rolled pie crust I decided I hate pie, and I’ve never rolled a pie crust since.

The real story about this recipe, though, requires us to examine each section of Darlene’s email. Here’s the first part:

“Good luck with it.” Hm.

The next section:

I love that she gave me little hints—she’s really good about that kind of thing. Darlene is an amazing cook, and her desserts are always beautiful, so I appreciate any help she can give me.

The next section:

See the handwritten part? That’s my handwriting, and I wrote “3/4 c. sugar” after I made and served this pie at my dad’s Thanksgiving feast. AFTER. Yes, Darlene forgot (or should I say “forgot”???) a key ingredient in the version of the recipe she sent me. While making the pie, I thought it was strange that there was no sugar in the filling, but I figured the crust was probably sweet enough that it must not be necessary. I was so, soooo wrong. I proudly served this pumpkin pie after Thanksgiving dinner to 15 people who took their first bites and promptly, politely walked out of the room I was in.

As soon as I tasted it myself, I knew I’d done something wrong. But I’d followed the recipe exactly as it was written! Why did this pie taste so awful? I called Darlene the next day to ask her about it. She grabbed her copy of the recipe and I heard her start giggling. She said, “Oh no! I forgot to write “sugar” on the recipe I sent you!” She couldn’t stop laughing.

And, since Thanksgiving had already been ruined, I started laughing too. I wrote “3/4 c. sugar” on the recipe and have made the pie, correctly,  several times since. But whenever Darlene has shared a recipe with me since this one, I’ve suspiciously asked if the list of ingredients is complete—especially if she writes “good luck with it” at the top. I like to think that she really isn’t evil enough to intentionally sabotage someone’s Thanksgiving dinner, but maybe she’s just smart enough not to do it to the same family member twice. She’s been my mother-in-law for 16+ years; she’s due for a slip-up, don’t you think? I am soooo keeping my eye on that woman.

In spite of this story that’s on its way to becoming a Manullang family legend—maybe even exaggerated to unbelievable degrees as it’s passed from one generation to the next; wouldn’t that be awesome?—I am truly blessed to belong to this part of the Manullang family. They are some of the kindest, most genuine people I know, and they’re way up there on the list of things I’m thankful for today.

Katie and I are making pumpkin pie today. Wish us luck.

Yep, I’m doing another blog challenge. This one is photo-riffic!

Sep. 13: Stuff others say

It’s Day #13 of our September Blog Challenge. The topic:

What is your favorite quote and why?

I can never limit my favorite to one quote because at any given time there are LOTS that are very special to me. These four are my favoritest of all (this morning).

Here’s one about gratitude from Thornton Wilder:

I found this one and tweaked it to fit me better because OMG, it totally does:

This is such a sweet sentiment:

And because I’m kind of a fan of love, I think this one is beautiful:

You ask me next week what my favorite quotes are and they’ll be completely different. What are your favorite quotes today?

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If you’re a blogger and want to do our blog challenge with us, let me know and I’ll send you our list! Otherwise, tune in here (and on Sherilee’s happy little blog) every day in September.

Dec. 1: An anniversary

One year ago, at this very moment, I was sitting through my first chemotherapy treatment. I can honestly say it does NOT feel like just yesterday. This has been a very long year. I never really entertained the thought that I wouldn’t be alive today, though. My cancer is “highly treatable,” as Dr. O put it during my first appointment, so as afraid as I was that first day, I figured Dr. O knew of what she spoke, and there was no reason for me to think of my diagnosis as a death sentence.

For the very vain, though, or even for those who occasionally look in a mirror, the hair loss was pretty close to a death sentence. It’s not just the head hair disappearing that gave me grief; losing my eye hair was what made me look like a freak. As Jack put it, “you look like an alien but you’re not green.” Friends, this is why we don’t rely on 8-year-old boys for boosts of self-esteem.

Few people saw me Kojak-bald. My head was covered at all times, even at home, even when I slept. I was sure that Victor would find my baldness hideous, so on the rare occasion that he saw me uncovered—usually right after a shower or when changing my scarf—I apologized. He thought that was silly, and he promised that he was fine with my baldness. Still, when you’re used to seeing your spouse with a full, thick head of hair, it has to be weird. I continued to keep my head covered.

It was May when I was first bald in public. I saw Michelle, my fab stylist, to have my makeup done and to be given temporary eye hair. People went in and out of the studio as I was being made up, and I felt incredibly naked. When Michelle finished, I put a loose scarf over my head and went to Laurelhurst Park for a photo shoot. I took the scarf off and felt a bit less naked than I had in the salon, but only because a bald woman at Laurelhurst Park is no biggie. Why did I have pictures taken? Because while I would love to forget most things about this year, the fact is that this experience has changed me dramatically, and it seemed important to mark this time in my life. I hope that someday I’ll look back on those photos, with my great-grandchildren at my feet, and marvel at how cancer was a tiny little blip on the radar screen of my life.

There were ups and downs along the way. The “ups” were tremendous, and I truly credit the people who brought them for keeping me going on some of my extra-difficult days. I mentioned many of them here. One of the nicest surprises of the past year was getting acquainted with author Pamela Ribon, who happened to read the review of her book on my blog and offered to send me her other books. I met her in person at a reading/signing in June. It was a total geek-fest for me—I’m such a book nerd. I had visits from friends who live far away. People went out of their way to see me, to connect, to offer me their best wishes. Such goodness in that. In the past year I’ve also made some new and delightful friends that are “forever” types. Pure happiness!

The “downs” I faced were fewer, but when they came, they absolutely knocked me on my ass. A guy I’d become familiar with through his wife’s blog, who had the same type of cancer as mine, received a poster his Internet friends had made—they were all giving cancer “the bird,” and I fell in love with the idea. I decided my motivational poster would be of my friends pole-dancing—Kim F’n had started the whole IV pole-dancing craze and I was determined it could, and should, live on. For months, I received photos of friends wrapped around pole-like objects, and I LOVE them! (I’m still collecting the photos, BTW… I’ve got 53, but not enough to do a poster justice yet. Send me more!)

I know the flipping-off-cancer story sounds like an “up,” but it’s not. The guy had a recurrence of his lymphoma just months after being told he was in remission. It sucked. He died, and that sucked even more.

A few months later, Loveliest Lori had a medical emergency of epic proportions. It was scary, and seemed like forever before we were sure she’d live through it. The experience was life-altering for everyone who loves her.

Some of the downs weren’t as big a deal as those. For instance, as my hair began to grow in, a bad case of dandruff came with it. Not cool. My post-chemo aches and pains kept me in bed for several days. My veins got worn out from the infusions and the nurses started having an extra-tough time getting my IV started before every treatment. I lost a lot of sensation in my left hand; my rheumatologist recommended a (painless) steroid shot in the base of my thumb. Dr. O said the numbness had nothing to do with chemo but it was so obvious it had EVERYTHING to do with chemo, so I asked to get a port to avoid being poked two or three times every session. I had the port placement surgery—a relatively easy procedure and recovery, but oddly painful too. Add these things to the fatigue, weakened immune system, chemo brain, and all the other typical side effects of chemo drugs, and you’ve got a girl that gets grouchy more than once in a while.

On the bright side, there were very few surprises during the first six months of my cancer treatment. This was a good thing, a sign that everything was progressing as it should. I was initially told I would have 6-8 CHOP-R treatments, and my hopeful heart set its sights on six. My heart is a wishful thinking dummy. After scanning my tumor site, Dr. O ordered two more treatments. Bummer. Once #8 was over, though, I was excited to be DONE, until I realized that I would be doing follow-up/maintenance treatments for six months and they were just as frequent and took as long as the original treatments. The only big difference was the “H” was no longer part of my regimen. The “H” stands for Adriamycin (I know, I don’t get it either), and is that evil red stuff that made all my eye hair fall out.

Without the Adriamycin my hair began to grow back, and on October 4, I finally went “topless.” Even though I totally looked like a boy with a lot of grey hair, it made me feel like a human to go out without a scarf or hat—not a very attractive human, but a human nonetheless. I have taken to wearing earrings almost constantly—they help me look more like a girl human—and lipstick and eye makeup when I remember.

The follow-up/maintenance chemotherapy regimen I’ve been on since mid-May is supposed to end on December 14. I would love to make that chemo session a big ol’ party, with cake and balloons and friends and happy happy happy things. I’m too afraid to celebrate much, though, because I’ve been disappointed by false endings before. Who knows yet what kind of follow-up I’ll have to do for the next couple years? It could be Adriamycin every three weeks. I don’t know when I’ll see the last of the chemo nurses, but I doubt it’ll be on December 14.

The thing is, if my doctor tells me I’m officially in remission, then I should celebrate, RIGHT? Maybe I should celebrate the milestones instead of waiting for the ding-ding-ding! GRAND FINALE ding-ding-ding! of my cancer experience, which may not happen for a long, long time. Celebrating milestones will allow me to eat a lot more cake.

I like cake.

May 2: So thankful

I had a busy weekend. It was full of friends, and it made me smile a lot, those good smiles that will keep coming back to me in the week ahead. I feel so fortunate for the people I have in my life; the ones who kinda have to be here—my mom, my sister, Victor—and the ones who choose to be. The ones who periodically show up with a kind word or a funny memory, the ones who just say “I’m thinking about you.” It’s a lovely thing, having people around who care.

Being sick makes me more appreciative, of course, and I assume that it also makes others feel a more urgent need to share their feelings. I treasure both of those things. And there’s one thing of which I am sure: my gratitude is sincere. I’m, like, the biggest bitch EVER when I’m feeling rotten, and if I can feel gratitude in the midst of my one-week-post-chemo pain, I know it’s the real deal.

And that’s where I am right now. I’ve described the feeling before as why-did-I-spend-all-that-time-rolling-in-gravel???, because it hurts everywhere. Everywhere. It hurts when I sit and rest my back against my chair. It hurts to be hugged, even lightly. It hurts to roll over in bed. It hurts to stand, to take steps, to turn my head. The pain doesn’t last more than three days or so, and once it starts to dissipate, it happens quickly. The exhaustion hangs around a little longer, but it’s more tolerable—well, it can be napped away, at least. So, y’know, the pain is awful but it doesn’t last forever, and I’m glad for that. In the middle of it, though, I’m not a nice person, and I’m pretty sure my mom will back me up on that.

So I thank you for being patient with me, and for being patient with how the suckiness of cancer sometimes dictates my behavior and mood. It’s not fair that I have to deal with it, but it’s even worse that you do. I’m glad you’ve stuck around and continued to be good to me. I probably don’t deserve you but I’m happy you’re here. Really. You’re all kinds of awesome.

Everyone else? Well, you can just bite my big white arse.   

Jan. 29: Gratitude

Sherilee has inspired me again to reflect on the things for which I’m grateful. It’s not an easy thing for me this week, as I’m feeling pretty rotten, but I think I can still come up with a list worthy of a post. In no particular order…

I’m thankful for Twitter, which frequently gives me the giggles. This evening I was working on a “witty twitters” post to publish in the next few days, and in doing so, discovered a new (to me) Twitterer named MikeyADHD. Like Dogphorisms, Mikey is not what he seems, I’m quite sure—he’s supposedly a kid and definitely oh-so-inappropriate… and also very, very funny. I laughed so hard while I read through his twitters that I thought I was gonna throw up. Laughing until it hurts is pretty great, but I do try to stop before I puke. Usually.

My furry housemates are sweethearts, and I’m quite sure they can sense that I need a little extra lovin’ this week. For the last few days, my nap companions have been two dogs and a cat, all pressed against me playing the let’s-see-who-can-get-closest-to-Jen game. I mostly love that game. This cuddly stuff makes me thankful, also, for a large bed.

Sunshine shared lots of Michael Bublé music videos on Facebook all week, and this one made me smile more than any other. They’re all good, of course. I like this guy so much, but I can’t imagine ever preferring any of his songs over my all-time favorite, “Home.” Here’s a funny video of him pronouncing his name (which is not “boobull,” by the way).

Which reminds me, Jon Hamm and Michael Bublé are on Saturday Night Live tomorrow. Is that a total man-candy episode, or what? 

I love fonts to a somewhat embarrassing degree. It all started when I worked for my friend Lafe in college; he unwittingly made me the font-crazy freak I am today. Here are a bunch of really fun free fonts from a site my friend Deanna told me about. Enjoy, won’t you? And if you want even more fun, check out Lettering Delights. I’ve purchased more of their alphabets and coordinating clip art than I care to admit—sometimes they run great sales—but as the PTO prepares for our big carnival at school next weekend, they’re really coming in handy. That makes it totally worth it, right? Right.

Fancy Lori™ took her son (my future son-in-law) in for an appendectomy this morning. He’s home this evening, and already feeling better. Hooray!

I’m especially grateful this week for eBay/Etsy seller English Traditions. She’s the one who made my new, very pretty and comfy scarves, and in a very speedy manner: I put my fabric in last Friday’s mail and got my finished scarves back yesterday! If you know anyone going through chemotherapy, I recommend these—they’re very well made and fit perfectly. Also, the seller’s name is Kathleen (Kathy), so you know she’s gotta be awesome.

A lot of my friends are going to a memorial service tomorrow for a former classmate of ours. Even those of us who didn’t know her well have been affected by the news of her death; it’s tragic when someone dies too young, and because hers was a suicide, it’s all the more heartbreaking. It sounds like the turnout at the service will be huge, and I’m glad for that, because her mutual friends will definitely need each other for support. I wish she could have seen how many people are devastated by the loss of their friend.

Speaking of friends, I’m incredibly grateful for mine. They do such good things, many of which I doubt they even realize lift my spirits in ways nothing else can. Whether it’s in person, via text message, blog comment, email or Facebook conversation, I adore them for all they are and the ways they continue to enrich my life.

P.S. Here, for no reason whatsoever, is a picture of a cute little bunny:

You’re welcome.

Jan. 23: Roles in crisis

I am constantly reminded these days about how lucky I am to have the very supportive family and friends that I do. It seems like every day I get another message from someone new who’s offering help of some kind. Y’all are so generous, and I apologize if I can’t stop thanking you. You’re kinda way fab.

Tonight I started thinking about the very fascinating and different ways people react to crisis, and it makes me wonder so much WHAT makes them do what they do (or don’t do, as the case may be). Someone gets bad news and a switch goes off in them that determines their behavior. Is it something in their upbringing? Their past personal tragedies? Something they saw in a movie once?

My dad’s unexpected death was the first tragic event that affected Victor and me personally after we were married. Not having faced this kind of thing together before, I didn’t have a clue how Vic would be. I found it interesting that he almost immediately shifted into “helper” mode. He started making phone calls to people he didn’t even know, just because we asked him to. Ron was very helper-y too. He took the kids to the zoo one day when everyone was going crazy after being in the house for too many days in a row. Vic and Ron both got meals for all of us several times. They ran errands nonstop. Really, they saw to our most basic needs. It was exactly what Kathy and I needed that first week. How did those boys we married know that?

There were other people who popped up during that time who surprised us with their concern, helpfulness, and generosity. We have since talked a lot about how people’s true selves really come out in times of crisis, and how impressed we were with the unpredictable during that particular one.

In some cases, the unpredictable was disappointing. There were people who should have done certain things who didn’t. I’d like to think they were so thrown by grief that they didn’t know what to say or do; sadly, I don’t think that’s true for all of them. It’s weird to me. Were those their true selves? Yikes. I don’t want them around me when the going gets tough.

Again, so many of you, our friends and family members, have come to us with tremendous offers of help and support since my cancer diagnosis. If these are your true selves—and I do believe they are—then I want you people in my life as long as it lasts. And if I ever get the chance to do the same for you, you can bet I’ll be there, doing whatever I can.

(I kinda really hope you’re not gonna ask me to iron stuff. I suck at ironing.)

Jan. 14: Life lessons from a survivor

Yesterday I finished reading Cancer on $5 a Day* *(chemo not included): How Humor Got Me Through the Toughest Journey of My Life, by comedian Robert Schimmel. Here’s Amazon’s description of the book.

Schimmel already had a hit HBO stand-up comedy special and a Stand-Up of the Year title from the American Comedy Awards when, in the spring of 2000, he was diagnosed with Stage III non-Hodgkin's lymphoma. His world changed instantly; success in the raunchy joke trade-he also had an edgy FOX series in development-was replaced by the struggle for survival, the rigors of chemotherapy and all the fear and uncertainty that goes with it. Schimmel also looks back on his son, whom he lost not long before to brain cancer. Among a crowded field of inspiring and straight-talking personal survival stories, Schimmel's conversational account is particularly ribald, emphasizing the importance a sense of humor can play in coping, learning and healing.

Being that his cancer type is similar to mine, I was interested in his story, especially after reading the good reviews of the book. It was an easy read, amusing and occasionally hysterical. Schimmel’s humor definitely fits in the “raunchy” category—no surprise that he’s a regular Howard Stern guest—but it wasn’t offensive (to me). The unexpected came in the inspirational touches he shared. His priorities—family, specifically his children—were the biggest reason he committed to getting well.

Near the end of the book, Schimmel listed the lessons he learned from the experience. I think they’re typical of someone who’s been given a cancer diagnosis—cancer is scary, even if the prognosis is pretty good—but they’re also applicable to the perfectly healthy. Reminders are always good, aren’t they?

Keep your sense of humor, no matter what.

Can do, I think. I’m doing pretty well with it so far, anyway.

Create a purpose, a focus, and never take your eyes off it.

I believe my purpose is to raise my children, and I want more than anything to do that. For me, the possibility that I may not be able to is the scariest part of this cancer thing. Sometimes I find it very difficult not to think about, which is when I need to do something completely distracting, like play the piano or cuddle the cat or watch Hairspray. Happy things.

Figure out what’s important to you. What’s really important.

Without question, it’s my family.

Be open. Try anything. You never know.

I take this lesson to mean that I should be open to alternative medical treatments. I am. Unless it means I have to give up bacon.

Love. You need love. Tons of it. A shitload of love.

I’m lucky; I’ve got it. Way more than I deserve to have, in fact.

Sometimes you need to be selfish.

Does this mean that if I really, really, really want to say “no” that it’s alright? If so, I shall do my best.

You need support. You’re in this alone, but you can’t fight it alone.

Family and friends and people I’ve never even met before have been incredibly supportive and helpful to me and my family since my diagnosis. I can’t believe it sometimes, that people care as much as they do. Again, way more than I deserve.

The most precious thing you have is time. Don’t waste it.

I’ve given more thought to this in the past couple months than ever before. It’s overwhelming sometimes, trying to make the most of every day. Before I fall asleep at night, I look back on my day and see that I have sometimes failed to do the things I should. And this serves to remind me…

You’re only human.

…so it’s okay if I fail sometimes. But I won’t stop trying.

And, finally, once again—laugh.

Not a problem.

Jul. 24: Gratefulness=happiness

I’m feeling happily grateful this evening, and even more so after reading Sherilee’s post today. She always reminds me of the things I treasure—especially because she’s one of them!

I’ve bitched about a lot of stuff lately because it was a rough week for quite a few reasons, many of which I didn’t bother blogging about. But here are the things I’m feeling blessed to have experienced this week:

• Friends who say exactly what I need to hear. On Tuesday I was feeling frustrated with Jack because he was being a dillweed. At that level of frustration I usually want an answer, a solution that will magically fix everything. This time, though, it did me a world of good just to hear people say “I’ve been there.” I know there are no perfect solutions to dealing with kids but I appreciate the help I was offered because it really did make me feel less like I want to lock The Boy in his bedroom for the rest of the summer.
• I’m also thankful for the e-mails I got regarding the putting-animals-out-of-their-misery thing. And that’s all I’m gonna say about it, because those involved all fear overzealous PETA goons. (Don’t worry; the fish are still alive and happy-ish.)
• I’m making some headway in the bedroom re-do project. Victor and I got furniture moved to the rooms in which each piece will stay—a huge accomplishment. Sorting through closets and cabinets are the next thing on my list. Slowly, very slowly, we’re feeling some forward motion with the whole thing. ‘Tis good.
• My back pain has been sending me to the family room sofa to sleep every night. I am not thankful for this. But I am thankful for a husband who misses me sleeping next to him—he joined me on several nights this week, sleeping in the chair across the room. It is not comfortable for him; he is just good to me. I like having him nearby because he’s a cool dude, and I also suspect his presence considerably lessens the chance of me being attacked by vampires while I sleep.
• I found some new (to me) Christmas music for our 2009 CD. Hooray! More on that in December.
• My father- and mother-in-law are great about taking the kids when we’ve got things to do. Even with all their busy-ness of summer with Sonya’s family coming and going, church responsibilities, travel to and from Seattle, and all the other things that consume their schedule, they both go out of their way to be wonderful to us. We appreciate them very, very much.
• My sister is on Facebook again. This has pleased many people. And having my mom on there isn’t nearly as style-cramping as I expected! I’m glad to have yet another way to communicate with two of the coolest people in my life.
• I’m getting my hair cut tomorrow. It’s always nice to have a li’l bit o’ pampering, and I haven’t gotten to do much of that this summer. What I’d really like is a brow wax, but with my eyelid injuries still healing, I don’t dare—if I can’t wear eye makeup, I certainly can’t be ripping hot wax off my brows. That joyous experience will have to wait.
• Tomorrow the PTO board members are sitting outside Albertsons to encourage shoppers to connect their Preferred Savings cards to our school. It’s a passive fundraising thing, and can actually bring the school quite a bit of $$. We’re doing this on what is forecasted to be one of the hottest days of the summer in Portland. So what am I grateful for? That I’m not doing it by myself! Lovely Lori H and I are taking the 11-1 shift, in which we will be doing our best not to melt into sugary little pools. Get it? BECAUSE WE’RE SO SWEET. Duh.
• Speaking of the heat, I’m oh-so-thankful for air conditioning. I’ve also enjoyed our cool mornings this week, and love having the fresh air flowing through the house for a few hours.

It’s bedtime, or more specifically, couchtime. Have a great weekend, all!

Jul. 4: Why all the tears?

I spent much of yesterday morning e-mailing back and forth with my cousin, who’s putting together a Saltmarsh-themed surprise thingie for which she needed my help. Specifically, she was looking for a picture of our grandfather. He died when I was six years old, so my memories of him are few but special. I’m in most of my pictures of my grandpa, so they may not be exactly what Deanna was hoping for, but she can crop me out if she wants to (meanie).

To find the photos I started digging through photo albums and boxes labeled “to be scrapbooked” and had so-so luck. Then I remembered that Kathy had scanned a ton of old photos for Dad’s memorial service, so I connected my external hard drive and started wading through all those photos.

Y’know how looking at old pictures can make you feel incredibly sad and happy at the same time? That’s how it was, looking at one picture after another of my dad, at varying ages and weights, and with me and Kath in varying hairstyles (though Kathy’s hairstyles made me cry with laughter, mostly… heh heh…). It’s not like I never look at photos of my dad, but sometimes his being gone just hits me a little harder.

I was home by myself, so I gave in to the need to cry. I don’t do that very often. I probably should.

While searching all those folders, I found the music we used for the slide show at Dad’s memorial service. And this one song—a song that I loved long before I ever realized how perfectly appropriate it was for the “apples of his eye” portion of the show—well, it gets me every time. The song’s not sad at all; in fact, it’s incredibly sweet, so I’m sharing it with you because if you’re a parent and it doesn’t make you cry, then your heart is most certainly made of stone, my friend. And also, I can’t be your friend anymore.

“You Steal My Heart Away”

Download this MP3 - (Right Click)

(Please let me know if that doesn’t download properly and I’ll post it a different way.)

Our next-door neighbors came home with their new baby last night. Tina posted photos on Facebook and this one, of their middlest with their youngest, just squeezed my heart right up. Sami’s such a sweetie—Alexander is a lucky little brother, don’t you think?

Jen E, I look forward to seeing a similar picture of your little ones in a couple weeks!

I made potato salad last night, using my aunt’s recipe. It was always my dad’s favorite kind. Although I was sure I’d eaten it before, I couldn’t remember it… until I did the taste-test this morning. Amazing how tasting something like that can take you back 35 years in one short second. It’s delicious, and I’m so glad we still have these favorite recipes being shared within our family.

I watched the Rent: Live on Broadway DVD this morning while I was cooking. So yeah, I’ve watched it 14 times this week, does that matter? Does it make me react any more “meh”-like to Angel’s story? To seeing Collins walk around with Angel’s drumsticks at the funeral? To current and former cast members on stage at the end for one last round of “Seasons of Love”? My god, man, do you know me at all?

After Rent: Live on Broadway was over, I watched the special features on the DVD. One of them shows interviews and clips of the show’s final week on Broadway last fall. Jonathan Larson’s parents were on it, as well as several cast and crew members who’ve been part of the show since its beginning. Goodbyes and endings and finales suck, that’s all I gotta say.

I was still watching the special feature and, along with all of those other things, that’s why I was bawling my head off when my mother-in-law and Julianne came in this afternoon. I felt like such an idiot. And I was trying to explain what was so sad about the show, and it just made me cry harder.

I think Darlene and Julianne are ready to have me committed. I really am fine, though; just a bit weepy. I’ll be back to my snarky, complaining self before you know it. Promise.

Jun. 5: Gratitude

Sometimes I feel grateful for things. And sometimes my friend Sherilee reminds me to blog about it.

This was a busy week, and to be honest, not the best one. If I don’t have time or energy to blog, then you know it had to be hectic ‘round here. But the worst is over—it has to be; it’s Friday—and now I can simply sit back and reflect peacefully. This bowl of ice cream in my lap helps too.

On Monday I saw my doctor to follow up on my sinus infection. The antibiotics did what they were supposed to, but there’s still lots of inflammation in my sinuses. This explains so much, especially why I sometimes feel grouchy every second of every day; I can’t freakin’ breathe! The good news, really, is that I actually feel fine and I haven’t been able to say that for a very long time.

I went almost two weeks being able to sleep only by sitting up straight on the couch with a heating pad on my back. I do not sleep well in that position. I really did a number on my spine with all that yardwork, and it took my body a long time to recover. The back pain isn’t completely gone, but thankfully, I’m able to sleep in my bed again, sometimes even without a heating pad. To make sure I don’t ever have this kind of injury again I’ve made an appointment to have my spine removed. I feel it’s best for everyone involved, namely me.

Work on Monday was good. Work on Tuesday sucked big-time. I came home grouchy, wanting to kick the dogs and lock the kids in the closet. I had spent the whole day trying to fix a broken database, unsuccessfully, and was not looking forward to tackling it again on Wednesday. But tackle it I did, and guess what? I fixed it. Yay me! I left with a huge sense of relief and a hope that I never have to see that client again because if I see that client again it means the database is broken again and I hate that particular database when it is broken because it makes me want to kick the dogs and lock the kids in the closet. Grr, I say.

I rewarded myself on the way home Wednesday with shopping trip that resulted in a new pair of shoes. They’re nothing exciting—just walking shoes—but I deserved them. Yup, I did.

Victor took Thursday off from work so he could see Jack’s class perform their school plays. After getting the kids off to school in the morning, the two of us went out for breakfast and ran errands—a task made enjoyable by the peacefulness a kid-free back seat brings. The plays were a lot of silly fun, and the first graders loved their big audience. By mid-afternoon it was uncomfortably hot and muggy, and we decided to escape the misery by going to see Up again. We walked out of the theater just before 6 p.m. and found ourselves right in the middle of a huge thunderstorm rolling through the area. There were small tree limbs and all kinds of debris on the roads, and I was scared to see what our yard would look like when we got home. Fortunately most things were just beaten down, but nothing was broken or had to be taken out to the field and shot.

Hey, did you know that stainless steel is the new avocado? If not, you probably don’t want to ask. But I’ll say this: Facebook is a big ol’ time-suck and WAY too much fun. It was a week full of exciting discoveries, fun conversations, shared graduation photos, and lots of hilarious private messages. <singsong voice> Love it!

A while ago I wrote about the field trip that wasn’t a field trip. We chaperones were given another opportunity to ride the Sternwheeler, good for tomorrow only. With the Rose Festival going on right now, and the Navy ships visiting, there ought to be a lot of good things to see while we’re out on the river. The weather isn’t so great right now, but the company will be—Lovely Lori H, Cassie, and Christina and their families, as well as whoever else shows up. Dinner afterward? Oh yes.

Things are better. This is good, because the depressing anniversary of my dad’s death is coming soon, and it helps to go into it with a somewhat decent outlook.

Peace.

Feb. 21: Thankfulness

When I think back on the past week, these are the things for which I’m most thankful:

• Health. I finally felt like “Jen” again, and it was very nice. I’m still not 100 percent back to my normal energy level, but I got a lot closer than I’ve been since the beginning of the year. Whew.
  
• Friends, specifically The Lovely Lori. We spent Wednesday together. We live an hour apart but don’t get together very often, so this was a real treat! (Still, we’re doing better than we used to, when we only saw each other in Colorado.) It was a lot of fun for me to play the baby sis for a day.
  
• Haircuts that make you feel like a new person. My hair gal, Michelle, coiffed me, Jack and Katie yesterday. We. Look. Stunning.
  
• People I found on Facebook this week: Linda, a friend from high school and college; Dennis, Vic’s uncle; and The Bloggess, who’s named Jennifer and married to a guy named Victor, but much funnier (and potty-mouthed) than I. And I wasn’t unfriended by anyone the whole week!
  
• TiVo. There weren’t very many new episodes of my favorite shows this week, so I got a little more caught up on what TiVo’s been storing. And OMG, did you see Christine? She’s the best.
  
• Productivity. Maybe it’s partly my improved health and partly that this is the time of year when I feel like organizing; I don’t know. But this week I sorted through a ton of papers and junk mail, gathered all the paperwork for our taxes, backed up my digital photos and documents, and straightened up the complete disaster that had covered my desk for way too long. I got some for-pay work done too. There’s still a lot to tackle, but this was a decent start.
  
• Spring is coming! We had two beautiful, warm days this week. Two sunny, cold days too. I’m excited that there will be flowers blooming and leaves on trees again soon!

Feb. 13: Friday the 13th

I’m not gonna lie to you: I had a pretty rotten week. But this is not going to be another post about how much my life totally sucks when it really sucks only a little and only sometimes. Instead, I’m taking a cue from my friend Sherilee, who posts a list of things for which she is grateful every Friday. Positivity is good.

People I found on Facebook this week: Maria, who was once my Partylite gal and became a friend; Claire, my “auntie” in Ashland; Katie, a coworker and former student; Cindy, my ex-stepsister and current friend; and Sheila, a former coworker and occasional commenter here at Stuff Jen Says. Facebook is OH so much fun.

“Meeting” Dana: She’s my cousin Deanna’s cousin and recently introduced herself to me via Facebook. Dana is, coincidentally, a former SDA so we connected easily based on that, but she’s also a punctuation and grammar snob and little bit nutty to boot. I like her lots!

Katie’s birthday: my sweet little Bug turned nine years old on Monday. I am in awe of her on a regular basis and can’t believe I helped make her.

My mother-in-law: she’s a gem.

Shopping steals: No, I didn’t start shoplifting. While Vic was getting an eye exam the other night I walked around the mall. I found some great bargains at Gymboree and got out of there with $130 worth of adorable goodies for Katie—but spent just $28. Had similar luck for Jack at Crazy 8, though finds were not as adorable (boys’ clothes are boring). I also ordered a new set of Kitchen Aid cookware at 60 percent off. Gotta love Amazon.

Health: mine, not so much. But Jack’s appointment with the pediatrician yesterday showed us that he just has the yucky cold that’s going around, and nothing more serious.

Next week: I’m hoping to finally get back to work on Monday. And Wednesday I have a fun day planned with The Lovely Lori. It doesn’t get much better than that.

And finally, happy news for our neighbors: they’re expecting a baby boy. Congratulations!

Have a good weekend and Valentine’s Day. xoxo~