2021, Covid-19, Encouragement, hope, loss, Racism, Sadness, Sunshine, uncertainty

Half Staff or Half Full ?

I’m baking cookies, fulfilling two orders I just picked up. My Spotify’s Quiet Songs playlist is rumbling in the background with Paul Simon’s April Come She Will, Dawes’ Nothing is Wrong, and more ahead. 

Sitting at the table between batches and a CNN alert hit my phone with the headlines: Two Officers Wounded at US Capitol Attack, and a little later, Gunman Killed at US Capitol Attack, and now, 1 Officer Killed, 1 Wounded, Attacker Dead at US Capitol. Three mass shootings in less than a month, and now this, another Capitol attack. 

Earlier today I learned my old neighbor’s sweet daughter, all of 21 years, passed away. My kids grew up with her right across the street from our house, swimming in her pool (she was an expert swimmer from early on) and hanging out while the parents drank wine and talked of future neighborhood fun for the kids — pumpkin carving parties, pool parties, parties for no reason at all. A heart attack and two strokes slipped her into a coma and then a few days ago into an untimely death.

It’s a sunny day here, a nice break from all the rain of late, and I’ve been thinking of all the tears shed already this month, already this year, last year and the one before, wondering if you collected them all in a big bucket what a shiny reflection today’s sun would cast. My mind is stuck on the enormous swath of people left behind wrestling with it all, trying to sort it out, slipping into the past remembering, and fast forwarding through the pain of the present in an attempt to carve out some semblance of a future, now with a gaping hole at its center. Wives, parents, sisters and friends, all left behind in this bizarre Covid-spiked world to keep going. But there is hope. There is always hope. We have vaccines way ahead of schedule and I like to imagine grandparents hugging their kids and grandchildren after this long year of isolation. What a pure delight that costs nothing. We all crave these kind of things but some of us don’t seem to find them.

I feel like I am supposed to be learning important nuggets from this set of years. I am supposed to come out the other side that much stronger, wiser, grateful for what I have, but instead I feel sad for it all. The Asian community and the hate they’ve experienced, the families of gun violence who get to relive their pain after yet another mass shooting, and the ongoing trial over George Floyd’s death. I watched witnesses walk up to the stand and after just a few questions, break into full on sobs, flooded back to that moment, the moment when you desperately want to help but you are pushed aside, forced to feel the avoidable horrific struggle spiral beyond control. 2021 was supposed to bring with it an enormous relief.

I am appalled and ashamed of these people behaving badly and disheartened that we still haven’t seemed to learn anything. Where are the gun laws that will protect these innocent people and spare their families so much pain? I don’t see the progress I need to see. Instead I see people laughing at our First Lady who didn’t pronounce “Si se puede” right. I see bullies and social media flexing its muscle for all the wrong reasons. 

The cookies are cooling now, and there is India Arie’s I Am Light swirling through the kitchen. 

I am not the mistakes that I have made, I am not the pieces of the dream I left behind, I am not the color of my eyes, I am not the skin on the outside, I am not my age, I am not my race

My soul inside

I am a star, a piece of it all

I am light

And next, Ruth B’s Slow Fade offers up its own wisdom: 

The light has disappeared the dust has settled here. Was it always like this, cause now it’s always like this?

I’m not sure what the rest of this year has in store, but I am thinking we all have to find some light, harness it, be it.

Be well, find some sun, and if you’re vaccinated, go hug someone who could use it.

Love,

S

breast cancer, Encouragement, Family, Food, Health, self care, Sunshine

Hurry Up and Wait

IMG_7129Friday I did my big bell ringing victory lap after chemo and was feeling all high and mighty. And then Tuesday hit. Right on time after the 72 hour coverage of anti-nausea meds from Friday’s treatment. I’ve never had it hit before three days post treatment, so why now? I’ll tell you why. These nasty chemicals want you to experience every ounce of this crazy ride, and despite being on your last treatment when you’d think it’s finally time for a break, they will hold good on that promise. So Tuesday was nausea day. As in vomiting 12+ times. All day I focused on trying to feel better. Then the next day I forgot to swish and the famous chemo mouth sores you’ve probably heard about started to happen. Oh, no you don’t, and I swished multiple times and now I think I’ve staved off those from coming. It’s a crazy game where you are trying to outrun these little annoyances and get the skin you live in to stop aggravating you. You have to wait it out and let time do its thing, yet you want it over with. Good luck.

Our construction we’ve been planning for years has been on hold due to the many weeks of rain. Our cellar looks like a retention pond. We’ve picked the brick we will want surrounding the cellar and around the new fireplaces and are ready to go. Waiting on the weather and a good stretch of days that make starting up again worthwhile. We’re so ready yet must wait it out. I worry the renovation will drag on and then I laugh at my worry. We’ve started at least, haven’t we? That is huge. A truck pulled in the drive today and I thought wow, maybe they’ll work in the rain. But alas, it was the porta potty truck changing out the toilet. Still, progress with a clean toilet. Maybe the news will spread that the toilet is brand spankin’ new and we will have workers’ trucks again crowding the driveway. The sun has to come out again. It always does.

The sun has to come out again. It always does.

My son has long finished his college applications and was deferred by his first choice. He’s got another week of waiting until he knows. Big decisions. What town he will live in, will he be in state or out? All that work, the essays, the SATs the applications and then the endless waiting. I tell him just a little longer, but it’s no help. You just have to ride it out. He’s gotten several acceptances, so he has places to go, good places. But still, he is waiting for the answer he wants so he can get on with things. Time can be cruel. And so we wait.

My other son already in college in New York has applied for a post associate degree major and is waiting to hear. He worked hard and pulled together an impressive portfolio and is hopeful he can dive into this new course of study this fall. He’s plenty busy with classes and work and friends but not knowing if he’s accepted in this major is unnerving. He’s got another week until he hears. Time will tell.

FullSizeRenderIsn’t all of life a waiting game? Not much you can do really except maybe distract yourself and hope the calendar moves along, which it always does. But in between there is time with people and pets and work and play and delicious food. My sister and niece flew from Chicago to be with me during my last treatment. Such a treat to have the house full of girls and constant random conversation. We ate out and then ate leftovers and out again and more leftovers. Lingered over our morning coffee and laughed and shared and walked and shopped.

I’m waiting for the three week mark to hit when my body will no longer get another chemical blast. It must be thinking dear God, how many more days til we do this again, and I wish I could reassure it that this hell is done and it’s all about healing and strength going forward. Want to scream it to my hair follicles too who also aren’t sure what is going on. They’re still getting their weekly shampoo and holding on to the front and back of my scalp, but the sides just couldn’t fully hang in from a poorly fitting cold cap. Odd for sure, and cold when the wind blows, but under a cap it just looks like normal, albeit scant, hair.

IMG_7181In a robe for two days with my Pedialyte cocktail, I couldn’t decide today what foods would taste good. So with no planning and few groceries, I grazed. Oatmeal and banana, frozen Whole Foods bean and cheese burrito, bone broth with vegetables that the same angelic Pedialyte-delivering friend made, and then it went downhill from there. I glanced in the refrigerator door and there they were: Keebler fudge sticks. I’ll just grab one of those. What’s the harm? Then I had another. Those flesh colored chocolate dunked cream filled innocent sticks. Divine. Like I used to eat at my grandmother’s at her apartment off Peachtree Street. Always kept in the refrigerator. Later my husband came home and as I hadn’t shopped we had breakfast for dinner. He made bacon. I haven’t had a slice since November and I pinched a little off one. They were well done and cooked in the oven. Crispy, no fat, the no nitrite kind. Innocent, right? So good. Then I had a whole piece. Oh my, the food of the gods. I can’t love stuff like this but then I remembered my oncology nurse said once, if during treatment you want mac ‘n cheese, just have it. She didn’t mention what to do when the urge for fudge sticks or bacon strikes. I’ve decided no more fudge sticks and as for the bacon thing, maybe once a month I might have a slice. Surely that frequency can’t kill me? I just didn’t want to love it so much, but it was the best I’ve had. Like ever.

As I move out of self-soothing and into Friday shampooing, I hope this bizarre post chemo taste leaves my mouth and the sunshine that’s ahead will propel me back on walks and into enjoying large kale salads. I want my taste buds to really love what’s best for me and try to put the bacon and other stuff on the back burner and into the very occasional category. But you just reach for nostalgic comfort food when you are trying to feel better. I tell myself it’s ok. And so I wait to feel fully better and then once I am, radiation will begin. The calendar is indeed moving.