www.cancermonster.net

7:40a
Everything is in the car.  I have a few minutes to take a breath before my early morning session.  I have checked every bus that has crossed in front of me as I packed in my things.  No sign of the Happiness lesson among the transit authority’s vehicles.

I am expecting a long ride.  It is the first day of the last of the summer, after all.   After my treatment, I will get in the line headed for the coast.  No laboring on Labor Day Weekend.   It’s actually cool this morning.  And bright.  A few wispy clouds that have not even a pretension of dampening the spirits. Everyone else may be going away, but I am going home.

On my last trip out the door, I kicked a McDonald’s toy hiding under the bed.  A small reminder of my gift of companionship this week.  I am bringing it on home with me to return it to its seven year old owner in person.

“Oh, happy day!”
**********
8:30a
“Where we going today, girls?” I asked as my starship crew lined me up for flight.

“How about Nantucket?”  It was evidently too early for K to be imaginative. I was thinking maybe Alpha Centari.

“That reminds me of Little House on the Prairie.”  H didn’t see my own “what-you-talkin’-bout-Willis” look since I was face down in the toilet seat cushion.

“You know, Mr. Edwards sang that song… Da da daaah, Old Nantucket, da da da, dada dah, dah, da-da ducket.”  What can I say, it was early.

As they left the room for the non-radiant control booth, I was singing “da da dada, Old Nantucket.”   Buzzzzzz went the machine.  Hmmm went my brain.  “Old Nantucket?  That doesn’t feel right. ”

Back in the dressing room, I remembered that I could google on my phone.  “Mr. Edwards get out way Old” I typed into the search box.  Oh, for goodness sakes!

Stopping at the desk, I got out a pen and ripped out a notepaper from my journal.

“Get out the way for Old Dan Tucker/ 

He’s too late to get his supper.”

Hahah.  C came around the corner and I tried to explain, but I guess you had to be there. She did take the note back to H who was already in the control chair for someone else’s star trip.

“Well, we had it all wrong!”  She turned and waved down the hall at me and we laughed.  It would have bothered me all weekend.  I had to do it.

We had it all wrong.
**********

10:00a
Kelli used to do this to me all the time.  She would walk passed me or poke her head in my office and sing some little ditty and run,  knowing it would get stuck in my head.

Da da dada, Old Nantucket.

I know I got it all wrong. The more I sing it, the more wrong it gets.

Don’t wanna cook, get chicken in a bucket.

Why is it that we continue to do things we know are all wrong?  The longer we do them, the more wrong they get.  The more wrong they get, the more we complain that things aren’t going the way we planned.  The more our plan goes to pot, the more we blame God.  But that’s not fair because it wasn’t God’s plan all along.

I had a plan for this summer.  Six weeks on the coast and off to Texas.  It’s been four months with plenty more to go.  I had it all wrong.  I am not saying that God planned out this cancer.   But I do think he stretched out Dan’s job so that I stayed here in Oregon to get treatment.

This road is long.

Get out the way for Old Dan’s wife, she has to get home to her life. 

Yes, I’m going crazy here.  Haha.  What do you think people do alone on a road trip? That would be a funny show.  Put cameras in cars and find out what crazy things people do when traveling alone.  Don’t worry about me typing and driving.  The line I’m in heading to the coast isn’t going anywhere fast.  I type one handed on my phone.  Write a line, roll five feet. Repeat.

I am going to pay H back for getting this song stick in my head!

I got in the first line of my day at the gas station.  What a mad house. In Oregon, you can’t pump your own gas.  We are one of two states with this arcane law; New Jersey being the other.  It would do very bad things to our unemployment rate if they would change now.   The station I used going back and forth from the coast to the city is the cheapest anywhere. I plan it so that I fill up here.  Today’s price is $2.61 a gallon. Everyone else has the same plan as I do.
Maybe we all have it wrong.
**********
11:00a

“Supper’s over and breakfast’s cooking/

Old Dan Tucker just stood there lookin’ “

Hate when that happens.  Show up and the party’s over.

My nephew Danny, called.  What a stinker of a boy he was.  All grown up now with two step-children and a baby.  He had rough start, but he cleans up well.  “I gave it to the Lord and He gave it back.”   That’s all you can do.

He proudly told me how his business is growing.  More work than he can get to in the amount of daylight allotted.  “Don’t forget those children and your beautiful wife.  All the money in the world can’t replace the time spent in the back yard playing catch.  Or at a picnic in the park.  Get home before dark or you’ll come home one night late for supper (like Old Man Tucker) and those kids well be grown.”

I once changed his diapers, maybe today I changed his mind.
**********
7:30p
I am exhausted!  Getting back to the motorhome was just the beginning of my day.  Dan had pulled it out of the lot and parked it in the back.  He hadn’t had the time to fully secure everything for driving down the road.  A good time for a decent cleaning as well.  Then once reinstalled at the new park, we had to set up again.  There’s not much to this place.  A reading of the rules and a circle around to get the lay of the land and we were off to find dinner.  After dinner we went to the store for supplies.  I gave up walking around and left Dan to it.  I am sitting in the car waiting for them to come out.  My entire left leg hurts and I am not handling dinner well.  I think I over did it today.

When they come out, we have to stop back at the old park to pick up the work van. Two drivers can’t move three vehicles at once.  There isn’t enough space to park both the car and van at the new park so we have to take the van back to the job site for the weekend.  It’s getting late.  Been a long day.

**********
11:00p
I am in pain.  More pain than the medicine for it can cover.  The tumor is numb, but my leg is on fire.  Dr G said the nerve endings are getting pinched.  The less feeling in my tush, the more feeling below it.  I wonder how long this will last. I might have to dig out my cane tomorrow.

Tomorrow I will take it easy. No laboring for Labor Day weekend.

Where do I begin? They swooped into town about dinner time. Hungry and hot, my three little buds and husband fell out of the non-air-conditioned work van.

“Mom!”

“Hello Babies”

Kelli and Tim showed up not long after. There was seven of us in the spinster’s retreat with two forks and one chicken breast between us. If Jesus had been here, he could have added a loaf of bread and made a feast, but I held no such power.

“Where do children eat free on Wednesday’s?”

We piled into the car (with the AC blaring louder than the radio) and headed to the IHOP around the corner. I felt bad for everyone else in the restaurant, but not bad enough to care too much how loud and excited we were to be together. I shook my head and laughed.

“Yesterday, I was so lonely for you guys and here you are!”

Kelli and Tim and I have had a standing Wednesday dinner date while I have been here for treatment. No table for three tonight. All my kids. And my man. Together.

Happiness.

Dan had gone to the daycare early to get the kids. “What are you doing here, Dad?” “Are you sick?” “Do we have a stop to make on the way home again?”

“Yes, we have to stop in Portland!”

Can you imagine the “what-you-talking-about-Willis?” look they gave him? “We are going to spend the night with Mom in the city!”

And together we were! What a difference a day has made. Dinner done, we all went back to the room and played with the magnets I had scrounged at Goodwill for the paper flowers. We laughed too loud and had our pajama party, much to the dismay of the other guests of the Inn, I’m sure. It was such a treat.

Once Kelli and Tim went on home, my quiet little room turned into a maze as we moved the furniture around to make a place for everyone to sleep. Robbie had a strip of a pallet on one side of the bed made from Dollar Store baby rafts wrapped in an extra hotel blanket. The girls lucked out with a camping blow-up mattress that was in the van (so long it was forgotten) ready to be returned to Wal-mart.

Showers for everyone! Long, hot, we’re-not-in-an-RV showers. Dirty clothes; stinky shoes; wet towels on the floor; “He punched me!” Toys and books everywhere.

Thank you, God. You couldn’t send me home, so you brought home to me!

“Mom, I can’t believe I’m here with you.” My eight year old clown, Ruler of JaymiTopia, curled in my lap and held me tight. “Believe it baby. All things are possible. . .”

And we slept all in the same place once again. On a Wednesday. Go figure.

Dan slipped out early this morning to pick up the needed supplies. The rest of us took our time waking. Sharing the bathroom, getting dressed for the day, fighting over the computer. Normal stuff. Before long, Dad was back and the van was loaded. It was time for them to head back to the beach.

“I will be home tomorrow and we will have a new adventure in a new campground for the weekend! Just one day more.”

No quiet escape for my crew though. Getting into the van, Robbie got his fingers slammed into the door! The scream of real pain and fear coming from your child will curl your toes!

“It’s Ok, breathe, relax.” My standard line to calm panic. “It’s gonna be alright!” I turned away from my husband and said it again to my son. Lol.

Four terribly purple and visibly smooshed fingers were cradled in the good palm of a rocking sobby horse of a baby boy. “Breathe, Relax, it’s ok.” But I wasn’t sure the middle one wasn’t broken. “Let’s move them one at a time.” I said in my calmest, mommy voice. They all moved. Ok, it’s ok, this time to myself.

I lead him back into the room and gave orders to the others following behind. “There was a kitchen towel in the van . . . Get me a baggie from that drawer . . . There are ice cubes in the freezer. . .”

“Now, Robbie, stop crying and listen to me.”

“I can’t it hurts!”

“I know baby, but if you don’t relax your muscles your whole body will hurt too.”

“I’m trying.”

“I know. You’re doing great. I know it really hurts. Can you move them all for me again. Good boy. Now, Rob, you remember the day we were at Siletz Bay playing in the sand and the sirens went off? We didn’t know what that meant.” A wet nod. “Remember how the bay started filling up so fast we had to run with our buckets and towels?” Another nod, this one not as wet. “I want you to close your eyes and see the bay all filled up. Now I want you to suck all the water out of the bay with a big breath in. Good. Now fill the bay back up. Breath it out again. That’s it suck it up, and blow it back. All right! Good job!” Calmer and calmer my little boy became as he filled and emptied the bay in his mind. I turned to look at the rest of them and noticed that they were all breathing the bay in and out as well.

“Oh, I sucked up a seal!” Dad claimed with a cough. That did it for the boy, and he was laughing along with the rest of us.

“Now you keep the ice on there and keep moving them. By the time you get back to the beach, those fingers will be all better.” I belted him into his seat in the van. (Thanks again Kurt!) Kisses for all three little stinkers. All fingers inside this time, I closed the door. Holding back tears, I leaned into the drivers window to kiss my Dear Dan. “I guess I am still needed.”

“Oh, yes. Very much. I love you. See you tomorrow.”

“Be careful on the way home. My whole life is in this van.”

I hurried to the room, turned to give the “Love You” sign, and went in. I didn’t want to see them pull away. I’ll be home tomorrow. Just one day. Boy, it’s quiet in here.

Ya, it’s quiet. A sheepish smile caught a tear.

I sat down and played the game one of them left open on the laptop, almost making me late for my treatment. I drove over today. I was tired and nauseous and it’s has been very hot out. I shared my surprise party with my ladies of the laser. They we’re so glad to hear about my visitors. I think they had been worried about me the last couple days. I thought I had covered it well.

Back in my room, I laid down on the bed and woke two hours later. There had been several calls I didn’t hear. I forgot to take my phone off vibrate. Was it an accident or sub-conscious, I don’t rightly know! It was the nap I needed yesterday and it felt good. I’ll call them all back later.

Tonight I pack up again. Disassemble this life to reassemble it back at the beach. I have a long weekend! No treatment on Monday in honor of Labor Day. When I get home tomorrow, we move for the weekend to a new park not on a river, but across from the ocean. I think we will go looking for whales maybe. A good goal for the holiday.

And Monday we move again to the place we will spend September. I’m sure it will bring new lessons to learn and new people to meet. Both the same thing really.

I’m not quite so homesick, thanks to God’s gift of yesterday.

And tomorrow I go home again.

12:15a

It’s barely tomorrow.  Or should I say, “It’s just now, today again.”  I should be in bed.

This is all getting to me.  As you may have guessed from my recent posts.  “Practice Happiness.”  It does take practice doesn’t it.  Funny, but the pain isn’t as bad, but my mood is suffering now.  The tumor is shrinking by bits. It’s numb in the center.  Dr. G says it’s temporary.  He thinks that swelling is cutting off nerve endings.  That’s not what I wanted him to think.  I wanted him to think the tumor was losing.

I am tired of this room and leaving my family.  Half way there now.  Half way through my treatment.  The morning’s session will be radiation day thirteen. After this session I will have twelve more to go.  And then three weeks to be with my family before the surgery on October 8th.  What will happen then?  Not a clue.

This is the “Year of Not a Clue.”  I can’t even believe this is my life.

Yesterday, I listened to the techs talking so sweetly to the woman getting her treatment before me.  They are special people.  It takes a certain type to work in cancer medicine.  I joke and laugh with them, but I admire them so.

When the woman came out of the “Tropical Room” I caught her eye.  We shared a secret member’s only smile and then she slipped into the dressing room.  I stared after her while fingering my hair.  The woman had none.  I felt guilty for mine.   Things could be so worse.

I am praying daily for our finances.  It’s tight.  I didn’t check in the hotel early on Monday as usual because we needed a couple more hours to come up with the money for my room. I feel guilty for that too.  The doctors tell me that there was nothing I did to cause this cancer.  My brain knows this, but my guilt is not so sure.

I am tired, but I can’t sleep.  I am sitting outside on the hotel steps because I can’t stand to be in that room alone.  The other guest are quietly tucked in their beds, I am sure.  They can’t see me here on the steps crying.  Cowboy up woman.  And go to bed.

I should go in.  M.A.S.H. is on.  I love that show.  I will. Soon.  I have half a minute left to feel sorry for myself.  “Turn a light on already and stop looking into the dark.”   My own words creep back to haunt me.

This isn’t working for me now.  I think I won’t have cancer anymore.  No thank you, I’m full.   But the light of day will bring new strength.  “To sleep, perchance to dream.”   To dream of a tomorrow far off when this is just a memory.

I think I’ll go in now.  Give the girl a paper flower.

*************
7:35a

I woke up with a crier’s hangover and a call from my sister Anita.  I wish she were here.  She has always been my strength.  I haven’t talked with her much since she has been traveling with her husband in their motorhome.
She will be coming after the surgery, to once again chase me with a spoon.  When I was a kid that was her job -chasing the rest of us around, making us do the right thing. The job of the eldest of six, it was.  Or so she told us.  Haha.  Now we are all grown and middle aged and she still chases us around.  She will make me get up and walk.  I have no doubt.

Not that I doubt I will make myself walk.  I will walk.  But it will be nice to have Anita there if I fall.

“I’ll call you back when you have had time to wake up.”

“No.  I’ll wake up as you talk to me.”

I need a good talking to.  I need a swift kick in my pants.  That is Anita’s job.
*************

8:40a

I did hang up and have a cup of coffee and take my medicine.  When I called her back I was in a much better mood.  We talked politics and gossiped and giggled like school girls.  Yesterday was her thirty-second wedding anniversary and she and her husband, Dick, got dolled up and went out for a romantic dinner.  Thirty-two years is a feat to be celebrated.  Congratulations.

Practice Happiness.

That is the ticket to life.  Pursue it for all it’s worth. I will strive today to practice happiness.  I’ll let you know how it goes.
*************

12:30p

I am going to need a nap today, I think.  I didn’t get enough sleep.  I walked over to the center today like I did yesterday.  It takes me seven minutes to get across the street and across the parking lot to the front door.  It takes a bit longer to get back. Today, I found a couple neat seed pods and a cut from a tree limb that intrigued me.  I am going to use them in something cool.  It’s a nice day. Hot.
*************

1:00p

I am so excited!  Dan needs to come to the city to pick up some materials for the job.  He is going to get the kids from daycare and head this way.  They will spend the night with me here in my room and in the morning, they will pick up the slate and head back to the beach.  I get to spend the evening with my whole family!  Can you believe it?  Thank you, Lord, for listening to my prayers.  There is only one queen bed in this room.  We can all curl up together.  It will be fabulous!  A pajama party!

I’m stoked.

God gives you what you need, when you need it. No doubt about that.

I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow for sure!

Happiness.

Gotta run! I have to clean my room!

7:00p
I have to admit that I have been struggling with myself. I fussed and worried so much about what I wrote yesterday that I had a hard time writing today. Over and over I started and deleted. I even drove around all afternoon thinking about it. I talked with a bunch of people who tried to tell me this funny thing to say or that funny thing to say. And when I got back to my hotel, I would write out their funny thing. And delete it. It just wasn’t working for me. It was really starting to bother me. Pacing back and forth, thinking, “I blew the rhythm with that ranting. No one is going to read any further if I don’t come up with something witty or insightful to counteract yesterday’s post.

Silly, yes I know. It’s not like I am writing for the New York Times here. It’s just a blog, for goodness sakes. I walked to the window and opened the curtain. “What the . . .?” I opened the door to look closer. Hahah. No way! I ran back in the room to grab my camera. I had just enough time to take a picture but not enough time to zoom in for a sharper image.

Remember how I said that God sometimes has to put someone in your path to get his message across to you? Well this time, He used a BUS! There outside my hotel room, stopped by the red light at the corner, was a Tri-Met bus with my lesson scrawled across the side.

“Practice Happiness” I swear that’s what it said! I took the picture to prove it. (I figured out today how to post pictures!)

(click on the picture to see a larger view)

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So anyway, there it is. I need to practice my own lessons. It was ME that I was ranting at yesterday!   And today I was so unhappy with myself that I couldn’t even make a paper flower. Hahah

I hope your happy today. I’m going to go make a flower now.

Maybe tomorrow I will get on that bus and give it to a stranger.

ugghhh

I’m taking it down. No, I’m keeping it up. I’m taking it down. No, I’m keeping it up. I’m taking it down. No, I’m keeping it up. I’m taking it down. No, I’m keeping it up.

Oh, phuu-wee. Here’s a paper flower…

Gotta’ Love Me. It’s a rule.

1:30p

I am here in the city an hour early. It was a much easier ride up from the beach this time. I have the car instead of the old work van thanks to my buddy Kurt who found a seat for the children. I will always be in his debt.

I had a few phone calls while I drove. One was from my mother in Indiana. She calls me everyday wishing she could be here with me. I told her not to come until my surgery. We don’t know yet where she will stay. “Just get your ticket, we’ll figure that part out.” Forty-one years old and I still need my mommy here to hold my hand.

The next call was from my buddy at the park. I snuck out without saying goodbye this morning and she literally called me on it. I told myself at the time I didn’t have the time to stop and chat. I had to get the kids ready for daycare and all my things in the car, but here I sit early for my appointment. Truth be told, I didn’t want to cry my way out of town. So I snuck out without telling anyone I was off. Coward.

The third call (not counting the several to and from my husband) was the one that got me. This person I am happy to call my friend. I love her with all my heart. We have a few things in common, one of which is a hidden chronic pain disorder.

I say “hidden” because to look at her you wouldn’t know she was in pain. You wouldn’t even know if she was unhappy. She hides it well. But she can’t hide it from me. Been there, got the T-shirt on that one, I have.

You know, it’s easy to blame our unhappiness on others, but ultimately we are responsible for our own well-being. No one can make you unhappy unless you allow it. Unless you welcome it even, as a crutch supporting your own excuses for not being happy.

I am not trying to say that I am the happiest person in the world, because I am not. In fact there have been times in my life when I had had enough. Seven years of Fibromyalgia pain and fatigue can weigh heavily on a person’s mind. “Stop the ride! I want to get off!” There are times in everyone’s life where you come to a (misguided) decision that you and everyone around you would be better off if you ceased to exist in this realm. (The classic old film It’s A Wonderful Life comes to mind.) It might come as a surprise to those who know me, but I have been at that point in years past. I thought about it. If it weren’t for my belief that suicide is a sin that would keep me from heaven, and a deep-seated sense of guilt for what it would do to my family, I might not be here right now.

But I am here to tell you that when you are actually faced with your own mortality you will not go gentle into that good night. You will not run headlong into the dark. You will kick and scream and rant and beg for one more day, one more minute, one more chance to live. You will because I know it from experience. I even told my old self, “Ok, I can’t do it to myself, but if something else came along that could do it for me I’ll just lay down and take it without a fight.” NOT! This is my SOMETHING ELSE and I will NOT go gentle into the good night, by God. I don’t even know what I want to be when I grow up, but I do want to grow up, dang-blast-it.

And you do too.

Excuse me for a little bit while I go have radiation treatment for the rare sarcoma growing in my backside.

3:30p
Ok, where was I? Oh yes, being happy. . .

Let my Monster be your wake up call. Life is short. How many times have you heard that? I want to tell you: LISTEN! Life is short. If you don’t like your life, then change it! If you don’t like something about yourself, then change it.

If you don’t like something about your spouse, CHANGE YOURSELF! That’s right, you can’t change them. Besides, chances are that you raised your spouse to be who they are anyway. I know women who complain about their husbands of twenty, thirty years, saying “They don’t understand me.” Have you ever told them who you are? Or have you just always been who they think you are? “I don’t like who they are!” Have you ever let them be anything else?

And men you are the same way. If you don’t want your wife to spend money, why do you park across the street from the mall and open your cell phone to talk to someone else? Why don’t you take her to a romantic dinner and Dance with her? If you think she is overweight, why are you bringing home Ding-Dongs and Ho-Ho’s? Why not take her on long walks in the park, holding her hand and telling her how much you enjoy her company?

Change yourself. It’s your own behavior that is causing the problem.

“How’d you get so smart?” my friend says.  I’m not smart! Dumb and tough, remember, my daddy always said. It’s just that my world has been pulled out from under me. That tends to change the way you think. I was hit over the head with a God sized plank. Someone up there is trying to tell me something.

“Hey Old Lady! You Need to Pay Attention!”

Pay attention to the good things in life. If you are always staring into the dark corners of your closet you will only see what you set out to see! Dark, sad, dust ball covered Monsters that scare the life out of you. Turn a light on, why don’t you? It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. Life is what you make of it. What YOU make of it. Not what others make of it for you! The Constitution of the United States of American guarantees the “Pursuit of Happiness” not that you will be entertained on a daily basis! It doesn’t say all men must be provided happiness by their spouse, their children, their parents, or their government. It says that you have the right to try to be happy.

For goodness sakes, try to be happy!

“I couldn’t do what you do. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t laugh and tell jokes.” Poppy cock.

One, you don’t know what you would do until you have to do it. Two, you can handle more than you think you can. And three, I tell jokes as much for myself as for the person looking at me like I have one foot in the grave already.

Poppy cock.

I am telling ya, I am mad! I am scared. I cry when I let myself stare into the dark.

But I am going to live. Because I say so. That’s why.

And so are you.

Take a class. Tell a joke. Make a paper flower and give it to someone who needs to smile.

Help someone else. Send a few bucks to a village in Africa. Walk in the next March for a Cure.

Cut your hair. Lose a few pounds. Quit smoking. Get a job you do like. Read a book.

Whatever.

Change yourself.

Don’t wait for tomorrow, it may be too late.

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.

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8:30p

Wow, just read what I wrote there. . . I promise to return to the regular programing with tomorrow’s post.

8:30a
Good morning. I bet you can guess that I am sitting on my porch with my coffee and book. The sun is bright, the temperature brisk, the birds the dominate sound. I hear the voice of my dear friend and her husband coming down the road with their puppy for his morning constitutional. (The puppy’s, not the husband’s.) All is well and normal in camp.

We may get company today. Dan’s cousin from Colorado has been visiting Dennis and Leenie in the city. She and her son are thinking of taking a road trip that could include our little sleepy, wide awake beach town. And us!

A Sunday drive.

When I was a child, my father used to take us on Sunday drives. When we lived in Akron, Ohio, Sunday drives often took us to Lake Erie. Sometimes to Niagara Falls, New York. Once even, across the big lake into Canada! He often didn’t know when to stop! After we moved to southwest Florida, his drives took us sometimes to Lake Okeechobee. Into and across the Everglades. Once we drove all the way from Marco Island to the edge of Miami and stopped at Burger King, just to turn back again and go home. My mother was never as anxious for Pappy’s adventures as my little sister and me. Go figure.

Seems my Sunday drive is down memory lane. I find myself, once again, wondering what my kids memories of this summer will be. I hope they don’t remember how exasperated I was with them last night come bed time.

I am disappointed with myself for getting mad at them. So much for all my enlightenment. I guess I need to study Friday’s lesson a little more. They were bouncing off the paper thin walls of the RV once the sun went down. “Get in your beds, NOW!” Even headed in the right direction, the drama didn’t stop. Robbie was trying to hug Jaymi, who was in her top bunk, by standing on Brandi’s bottom bunk, without the expressed permission of said bunks occupant. This bottom bunk occupant was pushing on the legs of the hugger while the hug-ee was holding her brother by the neck above. Legs were flailing, screams were flying, and mom had had enough of the memory making for one day. Dad, taking some much needed time off of referee duty, was happily surfing the internet in the front of the motorhome and didn’t hear a thing. Twenty-five feet away. Go figure. No solitary spinster was I anymore. I am home. Haha

When I come home again next Friday, it will be to somewhere else. By holding out hope for an opening here in this RV park where we have lived since May, we have no reservation for Labor Day weekend. There is no room at the Inn. There is no room at any Inn close by either. As I walked around yesterday, I prayed over each space. “Lord, don’t THEY have somewhere else to be in September?” So far God has said an unresounding, “No.” There must be someone else somewhere else that I need to talk to. I would pray that they just come here for my enlightenment, but that would mean even less room at the Inn for me! It’s a vicious circle, it is.

We have a spot starting Monday (Labor Day itself) in another park, but I so want to stay here with my friends and my river. (When the river fell into my possession, I am not sure. But it’s mine! And the Survivor Tree on the hill beyond as well.) “There is still time to change your mind, Lord!”

When my kids whine for a different answer than the one I disappointed them with, I tell them that to continue to ask the same question and expect a different answer will not produce the desired result. EVER! But still I pray, “Please, Father?” We are all just children at heart after all.

*************
It’s 9:30 now and still Jaymi and I are the only ones of our tribe awake. Having her fill of uncontested computer time, she has joined me on the porch. I would send her to someone else’s Tee-pee for Cocoa Puffs, but some other blogger might write about it on the internet. We can’t have that. I continue to write even through her comedy act.

“What are you doing?”

“Writing about you!”

I feel a forehead tapping coming on any minute. “Hey Old Lady!” She needs some attention. My Jaymi is a character out of a sit-com. She is a story teller, able to dramatize the simplest situation into a major motion picture! She wants to be an author when she grows up. (Wonder where she gets it?)

But for now she is Ruler of JaymiTopia! Her National Flag, made from a piece of paper taped to a twig, is waving closer and closer to me in an attempt to get my undivided attention. “I pledge allegiance to JaymiTopia, the Jaymiest, Jaymi of all.” And the flag gets closer. Stuck now in an apple juice bottle on my coffee table, the flag falls over as I am instructed to recite the Pledge of Jaymidom. “I pledge allegiance to Jaymi’s everywhere . . .” And still I write. I am wondering how long I have until she is tap tapping on my noggin. Somehow the flag is now nearly touching my nose in it’s apple juice vase, now weighted down with rocks. Plop, it falls into my lap!

“Ok, ok” I said. “I get it! Let me do it myself!” and I picked up the flag of JaymiTopia and whacked myself in the forehead repeatedly while saying, “Hey Old Lady! She needs some attention!” Face aglow, the “Ruler of all things Jaymi”, plopped down her soul on my lap in victory! A victory for two!

And we talked about nothing for uncounted time. It was grand. Seems she forgot all about my temper tantrum of last night.

*************
10:15a
Being the only two quite wide awake, Jaymi and I headed to the Bathhouse for our shower. (We are on water restriction -water retention restriction that is. The spot we now occupy has no sewer hook-ups. Since it requires much effort on Dad’s part to empty the tanks, we are not allowed to shower in the motorhome this week.) In true campground fashion, my shower was hot, while Jaymi’s shower was cold.

“I feel like a crab in a pot!” I declaimed.

“I feel like a fish in an Oregon sea!” Jaymi replied without missing a beat.
Wow, that was good Jay! She will be that fantastic writer one day for sure.

When we got back to our lot, I found Brandi cleaning the Motorhome! She even got out the vacuum hose and went to town of her own volition. I was very proud! Dan was washing the windows! Jaymi jumped on the clothes pile and sorted everything from yesterday. (Five people make plenty of laundry in one day.) Robbie was in a rush to find his sandals and escape before someone found him a job. It was good to see that not everything has changed in my absence! Run Robbie, Run!

They are learning to be more independent of me, my crew here at home. Maybe that is part of Friday’s lesson as well? Maybe I did everything around here because. . . because I did everything around here. Maybe I have to go off to Portland to my spinster’s retreat in order for my family to grow up. By the time I have my surgery, maybe they won’t need me?

Na, I have never reveled all my secret ingredients for my spaghetti sauce! Yes, call me “Marie Barone” from Everyone Loves Raymond. I am holding dear to my recipes. If they know what’s good for them, they will always keep me around, if for nothing else, but for my dinners. I think I am safe.

*************
1:00p
Dan has gone off to find a spot for next weekend. I do hope he is successful. Spending Labor Day Weekend in a Wal-Mart parking lot just doesn’t seem festive. The Motorhome is clean. The kids are off playing. And I am relaxing back here on my porch chair. I have taken my chair with me both weeks away, but I never found a good spot to open it. I wonder what kind of reaction I would get if I set it up outside my hotel room door? That would be fun, I think. “Hey, how’ya’doin? How’s the fish biting?” I could say to the passers-by. HaHa Ha.

Ya, I know. Maybe not, huh?

************
It’s a quarter after two now. I am going to take some pictures of the kids for the girls at the treatment center. I find myself now looking towards tomorrow; getting mentally packed for the return to the city. Am I a visitor there? Or a visitor here? Back in the reflection of the hill in the river. My life is starting to wiggle in the water again. I hate this. I really do. This time is especially hard, since I am not only leaving my family, I am leaving my river. Maybe for good.

Then again, maybe tomorrow someone will Cancel. Sometimes God gives you what you need at the moment you need it.

8:30a
Today is “Going Home” day again. I packed up everything last night. This assembling and disassembling of my life must have some significance. There must be some lesson to be learned by the packing and unpacking and repacking. It is a part of my journey through this battle. My journey to tomorrow’s Tomorrow. I find myself wondering what skill I am mastering with this task.

Maybe it’s that life is about change and one shouldn’t be frightened by change. Ever since we sold off our possessions and moved into the motorhome, our lives have been one change after another. We have learned to move and adapt to new things, new people, new normals. In this day of ever emerging technology, change is always just around the next corner. My gramma Nora was born in 1909. Sometimes I think about the changes she saw in her lifetime. She went from traveling by horseback to traveling through Cyberspace.

9:15a
I think I might have just gotten part of my answer. I was outside taking some of my things to the van when I noticed the man standing by the door. He and his family have been staying in the room next to me all week. I have said hello in passing but had not really talked to him or his wife. I am sure that is because of my own theory on the friendliness of hotel compatriots. Turns out the fault was in me and not the others around me.

“I’m checking out today!” and so started a fabulous conversation. I found out that he and his family are here to witness the birth of a grandchild. He beamed at the mention of the newborn heir. He talked about living once here and moving away and I told him I also moved from this area to the beach. “I am here for radiation treatments.” I hadn’t meant to tell him. But I did. “Prayer. Prayer will get you through it. You now have one more person praying for you.” We talked some more and he told me he had been electrocuted once. He had been clinically dead. The Power of Prayer brought him through it. He knew that he had a lesson to learn from it. (I had not told this man that I had just been writing about lessons learned from trying times. He did not know that he was part of my lesson of the day.) He told me that he had not been spending enough time with his family. He thought that since he was bringing home good money, it was ok to work 60, 70 hours a week. Then he was knocked flat and had to relearn how to live. “I cut out all the overtime and spent all that time with my wife and children. I learned how to stop and smell the roses. I learned how to be a better person.”

Sometimes God has to hit you over the head with a plank to get your attention.

Or sometimes God will place someone in your path to do it for him.

One lesson I have learned so far today is that there are people set in your lives that you are supposed to talk to, to learn from, to bless them and to be blessed by them with the company you share. If you don’t say, “Hello” you might miss out on something life changing.

I shook his hand and thanked him. I was reminded of the woman I met in the middle of the river who renewed my spirit. And the grocery store clerk that reached over the register to hold my hand and pray for me. And the Day Care Manager who has taken so fine care of my children in my absence. And the Brownie Troop leader that sent a care package to my babies just to make them smile. And the list goes on and on.

Like the solitary tree on the hill, I am being cared for on all sides. I am truly Blessed.

And today I am going home again.

10:50a
Driving away from the hotel, I thought about the time I spend with my family. Sure, I have been there everyday as the stay-at-home mom, but have I really been there for my kids and husband? How many times have I shooed the children away so I could finish something on the computer, when I should have stopped to listen to what they wanted to say to me or praised their drawing? How many times have I thought of something else, anything else when my husband was telling me about his day on the job? Have I really been there for my family? Last weekend, I sat with my kids and let them tell me about their week. We walked and danced and laughed together like never before. Because I missed them! I sat with my husband while he puttered around the motorhome fixing this and building that. I laid in his arms and talked about my hopes and fears, his hopes and fears. Because I missed him!

Another lesson learned.

11:45a
Oh ho! The writing of that new learn skill made me late for my tanning session! I had to run in past the nice lady in the lobby. At least I was running in the right direction this time! I hurried past BB’s office door. “Are you alright?” “Just late, I’m afraid.” I dashed into the changing room and fumbled with that dastardly gown. (I really have to get working on designing a new gown!) I emerged puffing but ready for my tenth treatment to find that there had been no rush after all.

K sat down next to me in the waiting lounge. “There are visiting doctors checking out the machine. They are debating purchasing the system for their own clinic and wanted to see one in action. We can wait here while they move on down the hall if you want.”

“They are doctors right? I am sure they have seen other backsides before. And I am sure they would like to see this machine actually doing its thing. If it will help someone else to get the benefit of a machine like this by letting these doctors watch my treatment, I am willing to show my [rear] for the cause.” (Only I didn’t say “rear.” haha) That started K to laughing and spread to H when we filled her in on the reason for our giggling. With that, my otherwise competent, professional starship bridge crew started a series of fumbling, giggling antics that kept me from getting my “your doing great” kudos for laying still while they moved me into position! I was laughing so hard with my face in the toilet seat cushion that I couldn’t stay still. And then when H walked bamm into the machine, none of us could hold back our laughter! It was a good thing that the cameras had been turned off while we got into place or the visiting Doctors would have had a comedy show to tell about as well!

“What are your going to do for entertainment when my treatment is over?”

“I do not know! You’re going to have to come and see us once and a while.”

“Will I have to get zapped to do that?”

“No. And you can even keep your clothes on too!”

They all hugged me goodbye. And wished me a happy weekend with my family on the coast. H showed me pictures of her puppy and asked for pictures of mine - even though my puppies walk on only two legs.

I will miss them when I am through. But for now, they are a big part of my life for thirty minutes a day. Ten down, fifteen to go.

And I am off on my trip back to the beach.

3:00p
I made it back to Lincoln by a wing and a prayer.

I think Paul Bunyan must have picked up the road and pulled it like taffy, stretching it out longer than it was before. And I am convinced that when Mr. Bunyan dropped the road, Babe must have latched on and shook the elongated highway this way and that like a toy snake. The road was longer; the hills hillier; the curves curvier. There was a steady stream of traffic the whole way. I am more tired and wobbly and achy than I want to be coming home to my family. I have stopped at the pharmacy just into town to fill a prescription that I wish I had taken care of yesterday in the city. I am so close to home but not there yet.

Maybe this wait here at the drug store will give me a chance to reboot and catch my breath before sliding into home base. I’m wiped out. I asked the clerk to rush. “I have just driven two and a half hours from Portland after having my tenth radiation treatment. I am tired and achy and I want to go on home. Could you please make this as fast as possible?” She looked up into my face as if to check the validity of my claim. Her crooked smile told me that I look as bad as I feel. “I will be waiting just over here.”

I am also picking up antibiotics for Dan. He has a bad ear infection and has not been able to work for the last couple days. He has already been here today to get his medication, but it was not ready. My poor husband deserves a metal for all he has been carrying these last two weeks. He has been Dad, Mom, Boss, and bottle washer while I have been away. Every time I try to figure out how we are going to do this or get that done, he says, “I will handle it, Treese. Just worry about yourself.” Just how he is going to handle EVERYTHING is beyond me. But he does and he will and can because he has to. “And that has made all the difference.”

Anyone who may wonder what kind of man my husband is should know that he is the kind of man any mother should want for their daughter. He is not rich. He doesn’t have a fancy degree. What he does have is a heart of pure gold and the spirit of a warrior protecting his tribe. He is a man. A real Man. I am truly blessed to be his wife.

I want to go home to my man and my prescription is still not ready. Maybe I will go and stand in front of the counter and stare at them. That usually helps speed them along. (Aren’t I devious?)

3:40p
It worked. I am finally only my way again. My little sleepy beach town is wide awake this Friday afternoon. It is the last week of summer and the visitors are floating in by the droves. I followed half of them all the way from the city and the other half followed me. Each may come for different reasons, but we all stay for the same results. It smells different by the ocean. Clean and salty and slow.

4:00p
When you live in a motorhome, “home” is where you pull out your awning, open up your chair and plop down your soul. “Home” is where you hug the loved ones that gather to greet you. “Home” is where your spirit relaxes and your tensions fade.

I am home.

Thank God, I am home.

Day 69. I want to write: Day 1825. That is five years worth of Day’s. Five years is what “they” say is the safe period. One day I will write “Day 1825″ and that day will be spectacular.

I will do it.

I didn’t post yesterday’s entry until this afternoon. I didn’t feel all that great yesterday. I am not sure if it was just the third day of treatment (I didn’t feel well last Wednesday either) or maybe the bolus day treatment. Or maybe just the Fibromyalgia just saying “enough.” I was tired and nauseous.

I talked with my nurse BB about it today. She gave me a list of foods to stay away from that might help with the nausea, but the fatigue I will just have to deal with. Especially if I am to follow the “no caffeine” rule for better digestion. I think I might have to test that rule out for a while. I may not be able to speak “coffee” but I do know how to say “gimme my coffee, now!”

BB also gave me a prescription cream to apply to the scar from my first surgery. The skin over the scar is starting to breakdown from the radiation. Because of the location of the tumor just under the skin, the entire area will soon have such breakdown. I have had some sunburns in my life, but never on my backside!

Tomorrow I get to go home again. I get to hug my little ones. I get to hear all the funny things my kids say. Like last Sunday: we sat down for dinner and I noticed that Brandi had a bruise on her forehead. “Robbie hit me with his head!”

“Why did you head butt your sister?”

“I didn’t mean it! I was trying to hug her! I must have had too much Love in my hug!”

I lost it! Too much Love in a Hug! Can that be possible? Like too much cheese on your pizza, or too much chocolate chips on your cookie. There is just no such thing as too much “Love in your Hug.”

I need those funny things they say. Maybe we’ll dance again. Maybe we’ll kick our feet in the river. Maybe we’ll go for a walk. Maybe we’ll just sit on the porch and look at each other. Ya, maybe.

Maybe tomorrow.

By the way, I hope you have just the right amount of love in your hugs today.

It has been an odd day.  I really can’t tell you why.  Just odd.  My treatment this morning went a bit longer than usual. Scans were ordered and the positioning was adjusted.  H said it was to realign my bony structure.  “No one has ever called my structure ‘bony’ before!  Thanks!”

I was excited to get to the center today to give my ladies each a paper flower Doo-Dad.  I made six of them; one for each lady in the wing.  “Awe, it was nothing.  I have too much time on my hands, that’s all.”  But that wasn’t exactly true. It was nice to make them smile.  They have been so kind to me.  No matter what “they” tell you don’t believe that people no longer care about each other.  Care begets Care.  Kindness is repaid with kindness.  For the most part.

For instance, take my girls’ old Brownies Troop’s co-Leader.   Because of our kids, we became friends.  I haven’t talked to her much since we moved to the beach and I miss her.  I was walking into a store a little while ago when my husband called to say that there was a package from her in the mail today.  It was a care package full of school supplies and small gifts for the kids.  I had to go back to the van and finish my cry that began spontaneously in the parking lot.  What a wonderful thing to do for my kids.  It was truly wonderful.  I can’t wait to hear from the children after they get their package.

I am tired today.  And a bit wobbly.  Kelli and Tim are coming for dinner.  I need to take a nap, but I want to make more paper flowers to give to every person that has touched me this last couple weeks.  How different it is now.  The first two months I spent begging for treatment. Wondering if anyone cared. And now I can’t wrap my brain around all the kindness I have been shown.

Go figure.