Finding balance...

This is not a new struggle. This is an ongoing journey.  I think the emotional overload that I have been dealing with has this idea stuck in my head and I decided blogging  about it would be one to way to get it out and to move forward. 

There are many different areas in my life that I struggle to balance.  I am not naïve in thinking that what I am facing is any different or more important than what each of my family and friends also deal with.  And I would be remiss in not taking a moment to thank those family and friends who have held my hand over these past months praying, encouraging, meeting with me and reminding me that we are not alone.   I think the easiest way to proceed would be to ‘bullet list’ my balance struggles. (That’s a shout out to my bullet point expert friend, Cristy, over at Mamashus blog. She’s awesome.)

It is hard to balance…

·         the need to be in church, the desire to be involved in a church versus going to a mega-church where “nobody knows your name”.  (OK, that is more of an indecision issue than a balance issue)  Everybody knows by now that I want to go to church in Marble Falls.  The sermons are inspiring, thought-provoking and reach my heart.  The worship is amazing.  You walk in the door and you feel welcome.  You feel connected.  But it would be a little out of balance for me to drive 3 ½ hours each way to attend church on Sunday.

·         keeping my thoughts to myself versus telling people I work with it is really not appropriate to look like you are going to the club after work. You are a professional.  Dress like one. And not the kind that stands on dark corners. (maybe I need to find some balance in not judging others, but this drives me batty insane!)

·         the idea that my son is not a baby, but a young man.  He is 17 years old and I am really struggling with those apron strings.  If I think about what I was out doing my junior year in high school, well, that doesn’t help me give him more freedom.  I am working on this.  I can do this.  If this doesn’t kill me, I will be stronger.  Repeat daily.

·         being a people pleaser and listening to my body tell me to slow down.  I have learned to say “no”.  A little bit.  I really wanted to go watch my BFs daughter play basketball last Friday but when I got home, I knew I wasn’t going back out.  I didn’t beat myself up over it. I didn’t force myself to go.  I put on my jammies,  climbed into my bed and chilled out.  It was awesome!  I need to make that a habit.  (Hubby was VERY proud of me for coming home and taking care of me.)

·         wanting to be healthy and those daggum peanut butter m&ms on the counter.  I paid good money for those and I am going to enjoy them.  Until they are all gone. 

·         being a good wife and mom by keeping up with the laundry, fixing meals, cleaning instead of just throwing in the towel and letting every man fend for himself.  I can’t say it enough how awesome Hubby has been with stepping in.  However, he gets a big kick out of “falling out in shock” when he comes home to find that I have done anything of the things listed above.  Ha ha. Very funny. 

·         the very stark realization that I am going to be paying for college for Boy versus my desire for boots.  Money has suddenly become very important for me to start saving.  I have a terrible case of “I’ll deal with that later” and “later” is right around the corner.

·         the desire to be supportive of Pops in his battle, letting him make his own treatment decisions instead of  stomping my feet, jumping up and down and demand that he do everything I want.  This is a long journey.  It is his body but I want him to want to fight and I want him to want to do everything possible to be around for another 5, 10, 15, 20 years.

We are all works in progress.  Some of us are further along in our journey to being the best “us” than others.  I just hope that when my time on earth is donepeople will look on my life and remember that I did the best I could.

Easing into the new year…

If you follow my blog or my fb at all, you know that the end of 2011 was kind of bitter for me.  Dad’s diagnoses of CNS lymphoma, the usual holiday stress, and not having time to do the usual giving to friends weighed heavy on my heart.  I nearly had a breakdown.  You can go back and read my “Bad Mood Blog” to see just how close I came to throwing in the towel and running away from home.  I just wanted to get away from everything and everyone.  I was wearing my feelings on my sleeve and it seemed every time I turned around some “small” incident felt like the end of the world.  Well, I am proud to say that I am looking forward to Christmas 2012! Shocking! I know.  I could wax poetic about the joy of the season.  Celebrating for the right reasons.  Sharing the love.  Giving gifts from the heart to family and friends.  All of those are in fact wonderful reasons to look forward to Christmas 2012 but the reason I am so excited about it… Hubby packed up Christmas this year.  It’s going to BE Christmas unpacking all of those boxes next year.   

I spent the week after Christmas in Fort Worth at my sister’s house or the hospital while Dad received his 3^rd treatment.  I packed up my luggage and left Monday night and didn’t get back home to Hubby and Boy until Saturday afternoon.   My job makes it kind of hard to take off so I jumped at the chance to hang out with Dad during my break while he was getting “chemo’d up”.   Hubby had already made his holiday pilgrimage to Idabel so he was “Home Alone” for the second week of his Christmas vacation.  He took down the outdoor lights. Did all of the grocery shopping.  Washed, dried, and hung up all of the laundry.  Cleaned the house.  And found a marathon of “Band of Brothers” I am sure, which is stop down TV for him.  As I checked in with Hubby through the week, I kept joking with him about putting up Christmas for me.  He kept holding me off by saying that he didn’t know how I wanted things packed so he would just “help” me when I got home. I didn’t have much time.  Dad’s stay kept getting extended and I had to return to work on Monday. I was getting anxious about Christmas still being up after New Year’s. Bleh.  As Saturday morning approached, I knew that I had to get home and get Christmas taken care of.  We had company coming over for a little get together and I wanted Christmas out.  I was exhausted and was hoping that “help” meant I could bark orders of where to put things in boxes and Hubby would do all of the heavy lifting.  The only time consuming part of dismantling Christmas would be the ornaments.  Hi. I’m Amy and I’m OCD.  My ornaments are sorted by style and texture and stored in gianormous zip lock bags.  They are then carefully laid flat in the storage bin with nothing on top of them.  You have the fluffy ornaments; sock monkeys, crocheted Santas and snowmen.  You have rustic metal ornaments; stars, angles, snowmen.  You have shiny red/silver ornaments; initials, jingle bells, picture frames.  You have wooden ornaments; Texas outlines, cowboy hats, boots, Santa clothespins.  You have keepsake ornaments; all the cute things that Hunter has made.  You have bows; big plaid bows that need to be flattened carefully to fit back in the cracker barrel bag.   Now you know why Hubby kept putting me off.  

I walk into my house Saturday afternoon and BAM! Christmas is gone. The first thing I noticed was the runner from the table had been replaced with a single place mat and the plate stand of goodies in the center.  Then it really hits me.  The TREE was gone! The window sill was empty. The snowman bulletin board was gone.  It’s ALL GONE.  I fall on the couch next to Hubby and nearly started crying as I thanked him over and over.  What a relief.  Then it hits me again.  There was NO WAY Hubby knew about the ornaments.  He quickly told me that he knew I was too tired and that he wanted me to rest before company comes over.  He joked about the fun I will have next year getting to go through the boxes and trying to figure out what he was thinking when he put the stuff up.  And you know what?  I am going to do just that.  Who cares about the ornaments? I am sure they will be fine.  I already know that it is going to be an adventure, because when I went to put up a candle stand (that he missed) in the cabinet above the fridge, I found Hunter’s snowman, stained-glass, hurricane globe.  Yep. That isn’t where that goes. Until now. And it’s ok.

I am not making any resolutions this year.  I am taking it a day at a time. I am trying to find joy, every day. I am reading my Jesus Calling devotional, every day.  I am going to ignore those that hurt my feelings, every day. I am going to cherish moments with family, every day.  I am sure that some days will be better than others, but I am going to be thankful none the less. Every day.

The ghost of Christmas past...

This Christmas was rough...I am ready to move on, to move past, and move forward.  One of the biggest quandaries I have been trying to resolve this year is the overwhelming thoughtlessness of people.   Apparently, the wonderful example that my mother has set for us in regards to being generous, thoughtful, considerate of others exists in a vacuum.  I should not expect the same from other people and from this point forward, I won't.  I'll just be pleasantly surprised if I stumble across someone who displays one of those qualities.

I have spent a lot of time this past week reflecting on better times, those Christmases filled with the innocence of pure joy.  As a child, we spent Christmas in Arkansas.  Both sets of grandparents were there and a host of aunts, uncles, cousins.  The days leading up to the trip were filled with wonderful aromas from Mom's kitchen and the unwrapping of gifts since we couldn't take them all with us.  I'll never know how Mom managed to get some really cool "Santa" gifts packed in the car without us knowing.

Christmas in Arkansas meant going to the little white church right next to my mom's parents house.  My grandfather donated the land and helped build the church.  We always left the Christmas service with a brown sack filled with fruit, nuts, small candy cane, ribbon candy and maybe a few other treats.  I am not sure that I ever appreciate the fruit, I know that Juju didn't but it was still a wonderful tradition.  I miss it.

Christmas Eve was always spent at my dad's parents.  My grandpa would have gone out in the pasture and cut down a tree.  They would wait on us to arrive to decorate it. We used the individual silver icicles and those ginormous outdoor sized multi-colored bulbs. I can picture it sitting in the front room waiting for us as if it were yesterday.  Grandma always had treats for us.  It is her recipe that Juju and I use for our peanut butter balls.  There is a family legend that Juju and a cousin sat at the table and ate a whole bowlful.  Grandma got mad. And after making them for the first time on her own, Juju realized why.  Those things just don't make themselves.  It is work.  A lot of work.  What I would give to make a batch and take to her as a treat.

This was the first year that my Christmas wasn't filled with joy and was pretty much overshadowed by "junk" for lack of a better word.  I can only hope that the lessons we have learned as a family stay with us and help us to avoid a repeat. I know that Boy never wants to have another Christmas like this.  But more importantly, I hope that he, as well as myself, have learned that actions have consequences.   We can't live in the Christmases of the past... as wonderful as they were.  We all have choices.  Make good ones.

PS: I do want to give a shout out to a few bright spots this season: My FF and her family were wonderful hosts in the Falls.  I truly enjoyed my time there and getting to attend their Christmas program.  It was uplifting and an escape.  Also, my BF rescued me on Christmas Eve's eve.  We went into town for a few errands and just let me be me.  Sad, pathetic me. No judgment.  So while I judged early in this blog that  there are not any  considerate people left in the world, I was blessed with two angels. And I am grateful.

Tumors, tears, and texts

Kind of a crazy title, but this is going to be about 3 blogs in 1.  First of all, I never got a round to writing the blog about the tumor eating Dad's filter.  Seriously, you have to find humor in the situation we have found ourselves in and Dad's loud whispers have certainly provided some levity.  Let me explain.  Dad has taken to "whispering".  Loudly.  Whatever he has on his mind at the time.  Exhibit A: We are sitting in the waiting room at the Center for Neurological Disorders waiting for him to get the staples removed from his biopsy site and he "whispers" to me, "I need a stretchy belt, reading glasses from WalMart, and a new brain".  Yep, everyone heard him.  And I am pretty sure that everyone in that joint would have liked a new brain.  We aim to please around here, so Julie brought him a stretchy belt that night and he got the reading glasses and the new "brain" for his birthday.  (It was a Cranium Brain Breaks game) We can now count on Dad's "whispers" for entertainment.

I have bragged on Hubby before, but seriously need to give him some new props.  He has kept things going and cleaned and taken care of around the house since the beginning of November.  I was getting ready the other day and made the comment that "I" needed to do some laundry.  When I heard what I said, I started to laugh.  Hubby has done ALL  of the laundry in the house for the past 5 weeks. At least. Probably longer. He made a few funnies and comments about checking to see if I remembered what laundry was, etc... and I couldn't quit laughing.  Then I started crying.  And I couldn't stop crying.  It wasn't even about the laundry anymore.  It was about all of the other things that I had not let myself release since this journey started.  Poor Hubby.  He didn't know what to do with me at that point.  I just kept crying till it eased up and jumped in the shower.  I am still not sure I have gotten all of the tears out.  It doesn't take much to get them to the surface, but I push them back as quickly as possible.  

I bought the greatest text tone the other day on my phone.  It has brought me great joy.  It's the little girl's voice from "Despicable Me" saying "It's so fluffy".  I can't get enough of it.  It makes me laugh.  And that is better than crying.  Who knew that a $.99 text tone could bring such excitement and laughter. I can't say it enough.  It's the little things that matter and you have to find humor and happiness whenever possible.

And on a final note, I'll be experiencing some happiness when I get to take a trip to the Falls next Sunday and see my FF.  I am crashing their Christmas program Sunday.  Not crashing as in participating, but crashing as in showing up and sitting on the second row.  I. Can't. Wait.

Random thoughts from a hospital room...

*Live each day to its fullest.
* Always go in pairs to the parking garage.
*Diet Coke is just not the same as Diet Dr Pepper.
*An unexpected phone call to check on me made me smile all the way home last night.
*A flapping hospital gown = TMI.
*Nurses are one part medical care giver, one part waitress, and one part counselor.
*Getting a good nurse is like winning the lottery.
*Patient Care Techs are important too.
*Pops PCT put peanut butter M&Ms on his dinner tray.
*Kind of the same thing as winning the lottery.
*Fighting over clothes all those years with my sister seems really insignificant now.
*Being the only daughter to get “the belt” by my Dad is like a badge of honor.
*Getting “cut out” for not bringing Dad contraband cigarettes makes me laugh.
*Juju (the biggest anti-smoker campaigner in our family) bringing Dad an electronic cigarette makes me laugh even harder.
*Watching your parents hurt is not easy.
*Watching your family come together and increase quality time is priceless.
*Crying helps.
*Listening to great worship songs helps.
*Seeing a man in his hospital gown at the Starbucks cart caused me to do a double take.
*Sleeping 4 people in a room for 4 nights was kind of like camping.
*Without the sleeping bags.
*And without Mom’s awesome Coleman Stove Pancakes.
*An email with encouraging words made my day.
*Watching Pop’s face light up when he gets a visitor is really cool.
*Becoming aware of how you can serve others during their trials is an important take-away from our experience.
*Having a son not take advantage of you being gone so much is a blessing.
*Being able to walk in to the house and go to bed without worrying about laundry, food, etc… is priceless.
*My Dad is the toughest guy I know.
*I had an amazing childhood.
*I took take too many things for granted.
*My sister owes me a foot rub and a back rub.
*I bet my TV DVR is full.
*TV isn’t a priority anymore.
*But Mark Harmon (Gibbs) is still hot.
*Hospitals are not a place to get rest.
*As soon as your head hits the pillow it’s (a) time for a potty break (b) time for your pain medication or (c) time to take a trip for a test where you hit every speed bump on the way to your location.
*Why does a hospital have speed bumps?
*How fun would it be to have gurney races down the long hallways?
*Not with patients.
*Is there a special code on your driver’s license if you are a patient transport driver?
*Like a CDL?
*Class PT: Patient Transport.
*Does God laugh when you try to bargain with him?
*I love my iPhone.
*I love that Mom and Dad both got iPhones this weekend.
*Don’t put off until tomorrow what needs to be said and done today.
*God has a perfect plan.

Trading places

I would give anything to put myself in Harris Room 704 right now and take the pain away from my Dad. (aka Daddy, Papa, Pops)
We have begun the second leg of this journey, the treatment.  In order to accomplish this, Dad went back into the hospital yesterday to have 2 ports installed; one in his chest and one in his skull.  What we thought would be about 2 days in the hospital has now been extended to a week. This news was not received well.  Dad loves his patio time, talking on the phone, watching the birds and yes, smoking his daggum cigarettes. This extended stay has really dampened his spirits.  
Plain and simple, nothing but the truth, last night was a hard night.  Deservedly so, Dad is frustrated.  He knows the long journey ahead.  In what part of “fair” does someone get cancer twice?  He was so amazing and strong during the first battle.  My heart breaks that he is facing this ugly disease again. It’s not fair. I know I can say it a million times and it will not change anything but I can’t stop myself.  It’s not fair.   My prayers today have shifted from not just healing but for peace and comfort and strength for Pops.  It’s selfish I know, but I want him to put up the biggest fight he has to beat this thing.  
Dad’s room has a view of the parking garage elevators and I joked with him about keeping watch on us when we leave the building at night.  Careful what you say… after a little visiting with Pops, I went out to Mom’s car to get her some clothes for today. Before it got dark of course.  I am Chicken Little.  While I was headed back to the elevators, a man in the parking garage starting speaking to me and I couldn’t understand him.  This caused him to almost get to see me go ninja on his bad self.  Here is a little lesson for you, Mr. Crazy Parking Garage Man, DO NOT TALK TO ME, especially when you are not making any sense.  Thank goodness Mom carries 500 keys on her key chain because I was about to turn that thing into a lethal weapon.  I don’t know how the pink fuzzy ball hanging on the ring would have helped, other than wiping up the man’s blood when I clobbered him with a half pound of jagged steel.  Regardless, I got into fighting position with a death grip on those keys.  That was the longest elevator ride of my life and it was just one floor.  Next time I will jump back out just as the door closes.  Lesson learned.
Julie and I did our best to keep Pops focused on the positive.  I know it must be frustrating to hear other people who are not the ones with the IV line dangling out of their arms, or the prospect of having a reservoir  to deliver chemo inserted into their skull, telling you to “hang in there, stay positive, we are praying, God is big enough” and all the other one-liners. But I want Dad to know that we believe those things.  We are trusting in the Great Physician and our faith will not be shaken.  When Julie and I left, (always best to travel in pairs when leaving the building for the night. Lesson learned) we got into her car and God spoke again through song. Playing from the speakers were the following words, “A peace that passes understanding is my song, and I sing, my hope is in You, Lord.”   I immediately turned to Julie because I knew she had  posted a link to this song on her fb during Dad’s first hospital stay and I have it first on my iPod’s God’s Playlist.  We acknowledged that this was indeed another God moment and we need to hang in there, stay positive, keep praying and claim that God is big enough.  Pops, if you are reading this, I love you and I believe in you.  Look down at that bracelet on your arm and believe, God is big enough.

God’s Playlist…

God’s Playlist…

Last Friday began a journey that no one in our family was prepared to take.  For a while now, my Dad’s health has been declining.  We have been keeping watch, encouraging him to eat more, go for walks and try to regain some strength. He ordered an exercise bike last week. I made a deal with him that when he could walk on the treadmill for a mile and bike for 30 minutes I would take him and Mom to the Hill Country for a little vacation.  That deal is still very much in place.  Back to the journey… Sunday, October 30 was a turning point.  Dad seemed to have all the signs of a stroke.  He had an appointment with the doctor to set a surgery date on Wednesday.  Thursday was an appointment with his primary doctor to check out the other symptoms that continued to concern us.  That led us to a cardiologist, which led us back to Dad’s primary care, which led us to an MRI, which led to the emergency room, the 6^th floor, surgical waiting room, Neuro ICU, and currently the 5^th floor.   Quite the journey.

We have been down this road before.  Dad was diagnosed in 2006 with Non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.  During that phase of our life, our family witnessed a miracle.  After one chemo treatment, Dad suffered a strangulated hernia.  While normally that would be an easy repair, if you suffer this after one round of chemo, your body has no defense mechanism against infection.  A miracle was the only way out.  We believed and received. Dad made it through surgery, and he made it through 5 more chemo treatments into remission.  Our faith was strengthened.

Journey’s like these don’t come without your moments of doubt and worry and fear.  It’s human nature.  On Dad’s first journey, my sister was driving to the hospital and came upon a van with a bright colored poster board which was duct taped to the outside with the message “Prayer Works”.  This “sign” came at a time when fear and worry had taken over.  After sharing that encounter with the family, we claimed it and believed it.   3 days ago, Julie was out in the waiting room taking some phone calls from family members and was unable to sit still.  A cleaning crew member who was vacuuming around her noticed her uneasiness and came and spoke to her.  His name was LaVon and this is what he said “when I get anxious my God tells me to be still, don’t worry, I am here and ALL things are possible.” As he turned to go he looked back and told me “not to worry…that HE has got this…HE’s Got this!”

That feeling of peace had eluded me and so I began to claim what Julie was feeling for myself.  I was struggling to let go of the worry and I wasn’t “hearing” anything from God.  The next morning when I got in my car to go home, shower and head to work I began pleading for the same kind of peace. I asked God to give me a “sign”.  My FF and I have shared songs and lyrics several times, using them to encourage one another and to lift each other up.  We call it God’s playlist.  I recalled her saying that one day she needed a word from the Lord, turned on her iPod and hit shuffle and waited for God to speak.   I was already about 2 songs in when I decided to ask God to send me his playlist. I picked up my phone and hit shuffle.  This is what God sent…

Song 1: These Are the Words I Would Say (Sidewalk Prophets)

Be strong in the Lord
And never give up hope
You're gonna do great things
I already know
God's got His hand on You
So don't live life in fear
Forgive and forget
But don't forget why you're here
Take your time and pray
These are the words I would say

**My FF had sent these same words to me the day before and it is no mistake that God used them as the first song to get my attention.

Song 2: Listen to the Sound (Building 429)

Are you in over your head
Are you in water so deep you're drowning
Do you think you've been left
And there is no one to feel your hurting
Well, everybody has been there
And everybody's felt lost
If you're in over your head
Lift it up, lift it up
Oh, listen to the sound of hope that's rising
Up over your horizon
Listen to the sound, listen to the sound
And listen to the sound of a new beginning
Oh, this is where the old is ending
Listen to the sound, listen to the sound


Song 3: Move (Mercy Me)

I’m not about to give up
Because I’ve heard You say
There's gonna be brighter days
There's gonna be brighter days
I won’t stop I’ll keep my head up
No I’m not here to stay
There’s gonna be brighter days
There's gonna be brighter days


My Dad is still in room 585 awaiting the results of a biopsy on his brain.  We believe in miracles.  We are claiming another miracle.  We believe there’s gonna be brighter days.  Like a little trip to the Hill Country.

Edit: After writing this entry, Dad was discharged and is now home.  He has an appointment with his oncologist tomorrow.  We are ready for the next phase of this Miracle Journey.