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6:15a
Why is it when you’re the first one up, everything you do makes noise? I am trying to tip-toe around, but even that tip-toeing could set off an avalanche. Every door and drawer and floor board squeaks at this hour. The coffee is COFFEE-er and my pill bottles could pass for a percussion section of a Mariachi band. The click-clicking of my keyboard echoes off the walls.

And now I have hick-ups. I have to go outside.

Dan should be getting up anyway. The kids and I have to take him to work this morning. We left the van on the job. They are not real keen on multiple vehicles in this new park. $10.00 extra per day for the second car will add up over a month’s time. In fact, every extra charge that could be charged, they went for with gusto. The monthly rates do not start here until mid September, so we are paying “nightly” for the first week at a rate that would come with housekeeping service and breakfast in bed in the best spot on the river back in the old park. Weekend nights are $2 more and each kid costs three bucks a piece per night over and above that. When it came to the extra vehicle extra charge, Dan put on the brakes! It would cost less to get a ticket for parking on the street! They saw us coming with no place else to go. They did say that we could stay the following three weeks for just the cost of a month plus metered electric. Wasn’t that nice?

My appointment for take off is not until 2:45 this afternoon. That means I can drop the kids off at daycare with only a half-a-day charge and still make it over the river and through the woods. (. . .to the doctor’s house I go . . .) That $30 saved will pay for my gas. All the better since the little old lady in the camp store charged our debit card twice when checking us in yesterday. Only the owner can give a credit, we are told. Go figure. We are budgeted so close, that error will cost dearly if it’s not corrected swiftly. I have one less day in the hotel this week. That will help.

I guess you noticed that I have money on the mind. No matter how we try to plan ahead, there is never enough to go around. At a time when we have so many expenses, Dan has had to cut back on his hours in order to care for the kids. He isn’t complaining about the extra money flowing through his fingers, but it weighs on my mind. It’s all so crazy.

Time to wake the pit crew.

********
9:30a

I hope I can make it two and a half hours without a potty stop. I hate using public restrooms. Most of the way, there isn’t a public anything anyway. If I take the right pills before I leave, it might be ok. I should see the doctor today. I’m going to find out what’s going on.

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10:45a
Just had a call from my surgeon’s scheduler. Dr. H had left a note for her check on me and schedule another MRI and Chest X-ray for one week before my operation. I already have the pre-op appointment with him on October 2nd. Now I have the tests the day before. I don’t know how we will swing that with the kids in school. There is also a pre-op with the anesthesiologist too. (I need to look that date up.) While I had my scheduling supergirl on the phone, I thought I would pick her brain about what I could expect after the surgery. I told her how the Oncology nurse seemed to think I would need specialized care from trained therapist dealing with cancer rehab and that she didn’t think I could get that on the coast. “We live in a motorhome. If we have to move to Portland, we could do it. It’s just that I have the three kids that I am putting in school in Lincoln to think about.”

“I don’t think it will be a problem to do the rehab in Lincoln. At that point you will be dealing with a surgical therapy- getting you on your feet, range of motion and so on. Depending in the extent of the surgery . . . If you did need a managed care facility it wouldn’t be for long.”

“What do you mean?”

“People who get a whole hip replacement and are sent to a nursing home need a month. You wouldn’t need more than a week or two.”

If we had been on a video phone, she would have gotten my extreme what-you-talkin’-’bout-Willis look. A nursing home? It never occurred to me that a nursing home would enter into this story!

“I don’t have insurance. Or money! Wouldn’t out patient care be enough?”

“And they are expensive. I don’t know, I really think they will just send you home.”

“I need to know. I have to make plans.”

And she said she would ask for me and call me back. A nursing home? You have to be kidding. I’m going to ask Dr G when I see him today.

I won’t be writing as I drive back to the city today. Dan made me promise. . .

********

I took pictures instead! Hehe

Gotta Love me, it’s a rule!

********
6:00p

I was early enough to check into my room before my treatment. Last week I asked for a ground floor room in the back and away from the stairs. Ground floor because I don’t want to deal with the stairs. In the back because it looks more park-like. And away from the stairs so I can open the curtains and not get the upstairs guests looking in my room as they descend. Two out of three are going to have to do. I’m in the back on the ground, but only one room over from the stairwell. Anyway it’s better. I wanted this building earlier, but I would have missed the sign on the bus last week, see? Since I am here now, God must be planning some other canvas for this week’s lesson. The room is nearly the same: different chair and ottoman (like the other model better) and the remote is better (more buttons -I like options). It’s just like being in the motorhome with the curtains drawn. Still home, but with a new view.

I looked at the clock in the room and ran out for my session across the street. Driving this time. Turns out the clock was wrong and I had a ten minute wait! In the waiting room I met up with a woman I had seen there before with her mother and we started talking. She is also from the coast, but further north. She drives her mother back and forth everyday.

“Where is your cancer?”
(That was the same question a lady at the daycare asked me just this morning.)

“In my gluteal muscle.”
(The same reply I gave to the other lady.)

“Where is that?”
(Neither lady spoke medical.)

“In my tush.”
(Same look in both cases, of course.)

“I have never heard of that.”
(Nobody has.)

“Nobody has.”
(I kid you not. Exact same. Is there a lesson coming on?)

Before I knew what was happening I was telling her my whole story. I never set out to do it. I don’t seek out strangers to unload on. (Present company excluded.) I told her about how we moved from the house into the motorhome; how it was a part of this story, but we didn’t know it then. I told her about the ER doctor’s “cyst,” the “splinter” that wasn’t, the pathology debacle, the denials and delays while the tumor grew and grew. I told her how wonderful the staff at this treatment center is. (That she already knew.) I told her of the surgeon who is the only man for the job. My kids. My husband. My life in a motorhome. I told her that I just take one day at a time. “I’m going to be alright. It’s hard, but I’m doing it the best I can muster.”

There was just enough time to tell her it all. (Makes you wonder who set the clock back in the room! Hmmmm?) As she rose to greet her mother returning from the Tropical Room, she said, “Thank you. It’s good to hear someone else’s story just when you are all bogged down in your own. We sometimes get so caught up in our own troubles . . . You have given me plenty to think about.”

Sometimes your lesson is that it wasn’t your lesson.

I have so much more to tell you about my day, but I’m tired. I think the days are getting shorter. It will keep until tomorrow. I hope you understand.

6:00p
Day 80. I feel like I have been around the world in 80 days. My world has spun around and around eighty times over, at any rate. I am so dizzy, I don’t know which way is up.

It’s been a very busy day. I am lying in my bed recovering from it all, eating cottage cheese and hoping to keep it in.

When I was pregnant (and pregnant, and pregnant and pregnant again), I had morning sickness. And afternoon, evening and night sickness too! Not too often throwing up, but . . . Let’s just say, nothing stayed in my system for long. It got to the point where it would have been just as well to just dump my dinner straight in the toilet and be done with it. The only thing I could keep in then was cottage cheese. I am once again having the morning sickness I never thought I would have again. And I am hoping the cottage cheese will do me one more favor.

We had to pack up at the weekend spot. Checked out right at noon. No one was sad to leave there. We didn’t even honk goodbye.

Traffic headed north was bumper to bumper with vacationers Laboring to get back home. The new park being halfway up town, we jumped in the line and played along. This is something true locals avoid like the plague, but we had no choice.

Since we were headed into Lincoln City proper to get to the next RV park, we decided to stop at the You-Do-It RV wash. While Dan scrubbed away at the top of the motorhome, I had to feed the quarters into the control panel. I had a job!

I got tired of that job. Every four minutes I had to scurry into the soapy mist and plop more coins in the machine. I tried once to load it up, but you got more time if you did $1.50 at a shot. And some times the Angel in charge of coin machines would drop a few invisible coins in at the same time! One go would produce four minutes and the next one five and a half. It was like playing slots, I tell ya. Only wetter. You have to wallow in life’s little victories, you know.

As soon as Dan finished with the top of the motorhome and started on the sides, I tendered my resignation and turned over my baggie of quarters. Once he turned the corner for the driver’s side, I slid in the RV and headed for the bathroom. Very convenient, carrying your potty around with you.

Being that we failed to find real whales as we had planned, the kids and I amused ourselves while Dan finished up the washing by taking a ride on a driftwood whale pair in the parking lot. Better than nothing.

Squeaky clean at last, we headed around the lake to our next home. The new park is part of a chain you will find all across the country. “It’s a great day . . .” here. We started with the reading of the rules and a tour of the property.

You know this place is not half bad! The lot is big, the playground is wonderful and you can bike, skate, or board it all over! The store is bigger than our beloved park on the river and they have a laundry room, game room, and a Saturday Night Ice Cream Social. There is even a creek, if not a river.

My phone has four bars inside and outside the motorhome. (All those that try to call us and get the voicemail will rejoice!) The cable sports a hundred channels and THE INTERNET is as Wide as a Web should be in a campground. This is great.

I want to go home.

I miss my old park. I miss my friends. And my dock. And my tree alone on the hill. It doesn’t smell the same here. No tide. No crabs boiling in a pot. I don’t know anyone here. Not yet anyway. “Ok, God, which one is my next guide?” Not that easy, I know. We’ll just have to let it play out and see.

Besides, tomorrow I go back to the city. Two more weeks.

8:00a
Had a better night. I only woke up once. I’m not complaining about that since I usually wake up once. So, better night.

The sun is bright. The temperature chilly. Typical day in the neighborhood on the Oregon coast. I can’t believe the difference from the city to the beach. Wednesday, I was melting. This morning I have sweats and a jacket on. Oregon goes from one extreme to the other.

The neighbors beside us are only here to sleep. They have family in a “funner” park. The group ahead of us are planning a party today. The women are already talking menu. And the men are off to the grocery store down the road with the list. A seven year old birthday coinciding with the labor day picnic. They will be taking their party to the beach. I’m not eavesdropping, mind you. It’s just that in RV parks, everyone hears everything.

I had decided that I wouldn’t tell anyone here that I had cancer. . .

As I wrote that, the neighbor lady came out and we started talking. People are always interested in how we live full time in our motorhome. How long will you keep this up? “It was supposed to be six weeks.” And “what’s next” always follows. I hesitated. I wasn’t going to tell anyone, but Dan had already told the people in front of us. “I have a tumor in my gluteal muscle.” Do you like how I avoided saying “left butt cheek”? But she is a nurse, as it turns out, and knew where the “gluteal muscle” is.

“What kind of tumor?”

“It’s a sarcoma.”

And there was that look. Say “sarcoma” to anyone who speaks medical and you get that “she’s-got-one-leg-in-the-grave-already” look. Sarcomas scare the medical professional more than the average person. “It’s only in my rear; it hasn’t spread.”

And they nod.

“I have been trying to get rid of that butt cheek for years. Would have rather gone to JennyCraig.” That always works to change the look. I could come up with a new line, but if it works why fix it?

“I have been in radiation for three weeks. I go to Portland during the week and come home on the weekends.”

“You have the three little kids”

“And an eighteen year old on her own, too.”

“Who takes care of the children while you go for radiation?”

“He does.” I nodded towards my husband inside the motorhome. “He takes them to daycare. Goes to work and picks them up after. Makes the dinner, does the laundry, puts them to bed. Day after day.”

“What a special person.”

“That he is.”

Dan appeared with laundry detergent in hand. “There’s the Superman!” my new lady friend declared.

He had a look of his own to exchange. He doesn’t see what he is doing as extraordinary. “Don’t write about me so much” he tells me. “Dan, you’re part of the story. How can I not write about you?”

My Aunt Shirley was a single mother when she first “got cancer.” Thirty some odd years ago. She was given a year to live and was told to find homes for her children. I can’t imagine doing this without my Dan. I can’t imagine what Aunt Shirley went through alone. Thank God she proved them wrong. She is just as ornery today as she ever was. And her children grew up with their mother. She is my hero.

What Dan is doing is extraordinary. Give the man a paper flower! He is the Hero of all Heroes.

I smell bacon. Time to make breakfast.

********
12:30p
Breakfast was as good as you would find in any restaurant. Bacon and Denver Scrambled Eggs with hash browns, toast and coffee. It was delicious.

It put me back in bed. Within thirty minutes I was nauseous and weak. It took a couple hours to pass through my system. Rats. I have to find something that won’t turn my tummy into a yuck dispenser.

We are going down to the beach in a little while. I bought some industrial strength sun block yesterday at Wal-Mart. Not that I need a bathing suit. The pacific is way too cold for me.

Speaking of Wal-Mart: Dan put away the food last night. When he did so, he cleaned out my cupboards and rearranged everything. He moved a good portion of the cooking supplies to the outside pantry bay. While he was busy redistributing the dry goods, I heard him muttering, “my kitchen now” over and again.

One half of my brain, the realistic portion, agreed that since he is now doing the majority of the cooking, he should have things where he wants them. To the cook, goes the cabinet. The other half of my brain had a hard time with his determination. The kitchen has been my domain. Part and parcel of my role in the family. To see him over-riding my arrangement was to see a bit of myself slipping away.

There was a hint of this while we were shopping. “Do you need ketchup?” You need. . . Do you need. . . Do you have any idea how hard this is for me? He didn’t. He couldn’t understand why his rearranging would be making me sad.

“I suppose you are going to rearrange the dishes and pans too?”

“Well, yah . . . But I need my saw to make more shelves. This arrangement doesn’t work. If we put in shelves here and there . . . wha-wha-wa-wa-waaa.” I didn’t hear the rest of what he was planning. Even though most of what he was saying I had been asking for for months now, I didn’t want to hear it in his tone of thought.

“Wait ’till I go back to the city. I don’t want to see it happening. And for the love of Peat, (I hate Peat, makes my hands dirty) don’t touch my personal clothes cabinets.”

Change is hard.

When he was done with his chore, he sat down beside me to explain his decisions. “It’s ok. I understand. But if you suddenly found yourself . . . somehow . . . less than you are, and I rearranged your work van, moved all your tools aside and filled the shelves with my sewing machine and art supplies . . . Then went off in it to do your job, how would you feel? ” Maybe he got it. Maybe not. It doesn’t really matter in the whole scheme of things.

But in the tiny fine print . . .

He’s gone to the auto parts store to get some kind of meter thing-a-ma-bob to check the batteries. That’s still his job. Everything is his job now. I feel like a toddler. I might refuse to do something just to gain back a bit of control. Nah. Life is too precious for middle aged temper tantrums.

I think instead, I will go get ready for the beach. Yah. Much better idea.

********
5:45p
The Oregon shore is breath-taking. So different from the beach I grew up on. The beach we visited this afternoon was almost as far from the Gulf beach in Southwest Florida as one can get and still be in the same country. Both on the map and in the mind. When we finally do get to Texas, my three smallest children will be amazed to see white powder sand where they expect fine ground tiny pebbles. They will be shocked to find sea grass covered sand dunes in place of the steep rock cliffs. The water may be too warm for their liking. And the sky too blue to imagine.

What they won’t be surprised to see on a Gulf of Mexico beach is their mother. I promised them that we will go. All of us.

But I am getting ahead of myself. Today’s beach trip was nice. The weather was just right. The cove not too crowded. The trek from the car, down the park path, across the wide gravel “sand” beach, all the way to the water’s edge, and back up beyond the tide line (you don’t lay your blanket on wet surface in Oregon silly!) was an arduous trip for Limp-a-Long Cassidy.

What was I thinking, you ask? I was thinking how long it has been since we took the kids to the actual beach while living “at the beach.” As soon as we settled onto our plot of paradise and spread out our plethora of play things though, I was thinking about how far back it was to the bathroom. That’s what I was thinking. I was thinking that I was not thinking. I was trying to decide if it would pass. I was trying to calculate the distance and speed and time available to make the decision of whether to run/hobble/walk as fast as possible back in the direction we had just came. I quick snapped a few pictures just in case I didn’t make it all the way back out there once I made the decision to run for it.

“Where are you going?”
“The bathroom!”
“Is it an emergency? It’s a long way back!”
“You think I would be going if it weren’t?”

Don’t ask stupid questions of a woman in a bad way.

Eventually, I did make it back out to the party. When Dan saw that I wasn’t doing so well, he said that maybe we should give the kids fifteen minutes and then pack up and go. “Oh, that’s not long enough! It’s been so long since we brought them to the beach. We can stay a while longer.”

“If you say so.”

I said so. I want to believe I had only the good times of the children at heart. I want you to think I was being strong for their sakes. I want to, but I have to tell you . . . I am a terrible, awful person! I was STALLING for time! There was no way I would be ready in fifteen minutes to make that trip again! None. Zero. Nada. No way! “Let the children play” my . . .my Tumor. I wasn’t gonna make it back up there yet. I would be like “I’ve fallen and I can’t get up! I don’t want to get up! Leave me! Go on, save yourselves. I’m done.” I can see me lying there with the cast off sea shells and washed up sushi flotsam. I’m telling ya, I wouldn’t have made it. Even without a bump in my butt, it was a long way. You’ve seen my picture. It wasn’t happening.

“Please let the children play, Dear. They are having such a nice time.”

Ppfft. Liar.

********
7:30p
“I put out some bratwurst for dinner” I said settled in my chair back on the porch next to my best friend and split-apart, Dan-the-Man.

“What do you think we should have with them?” he asked casually.

“I’m sure you will be able to find something in your reorganized cupboards to make in your very own kitchen. I’m going to lie down and watch TV. Let me know when dinner’s ready.”

Hey, you know what? This might not be so bad after all. I feel kinda’ like . . . kinda’ like ahhh. . . Kinda’ like a MAN! I can’t wait for Thanksgiving!

Too bad it’s not tomorrow!

9:00a
It was one of those nights that dust ball covered Monsters crave.   I rarely need to take more pain medicine in the middle of the night.  There is always an exception.

More meds with my morning coffee.  Breakfast of Champions.  Back in my bed, Dan and I are watching a Jacky Chan Flick.  I am going to give this thing one hour to reign and then I am taking over.   A Hostile Takeover if necessary.   This is not going to ruin our weekend.

.

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11:00a
We will need to find an internet café today.  The claim of “Wi-Fi” seems to have been an overstatement on the park management’s part.  This is only a place to turn off the engine for the weekend.  Not my home on the river.  The children are not amused by this place either.  “No bike riding” rules don’t work with kids.  The cable is good, thank goodness.  No bikes and no internet.

Funny bringing your house along on an adventure.  With the curtains drawn, it looks like home.  Just the view out is different.  The way we are parked, we share our porch with the motorhome next to us.  It’s a good thing they are friendly.   No tents or campfires mean no tribal gatherings.  I can’t believe I miss them!   Where’s the party?

I guess we need to make our own.

We are taking our party to Wal-Mart.
.

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2:30p
The children and I have been busy mentally designing the perfect RV campground for Geeks.  After all, tech-heads like to camp too!  The only reason geeks stay in front of their computers at home is that the jocks and fisherman have the monopoly on outdoor recreation areas!  Geeks have rights too, you know!

Our geek friendly camp park will be called “Cyber Woods.”  Wi-Fi connection will be guaranteed to every guest no matter how far away from the office you sit.  Our land will be high on a hill.  At the tops of the trees, camouflaged internet and cell phone receivers will hum gladly with the birds and the bees.  No one will go without vital connections, not in Cyber Woods!

Every picnic table will be aerodynamically comfortable and each will come with an electrical outlet and a data port.

Interspersed around the forest retreat will be tree house coffee bars and sushi huts.  Every bench will sport a laptop wide arm rest.  Communication via Instant messenger will replace the squawky walky talkies used by jock-ular types.  Except for the Nextel people of course.  Everyone welcome, even Sprint and Verizon!  Although Cricket will be the preferred providers.  It is a camp ground after all.

Every lot will have full hook-ups.  You know, water, sewer, electric, cable, Wi-Fi, and pizza delivery.   Even the tents!  Personal porta-pots for the tenters included, no extra charge.

Trees will support flat screen monitors for all manner of video games.  You never know when you will have the urge for Pac-man!  And for exercise, the Gymnasium will be fully outfitted in the latest Wii games like bowling, tennis, and baseball!  We’ll have it all.

See computer people like the great outdoors just as much as the next camper.  We just want to enjoy them our way- surfing the internet in our lawn chair under the tree with a bottle of wine and some really smelly cheese!
.

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8:00p
We made it back from Wal-Mart in one piece.  All but Dan’s wallet.  It’s a bit lighter.  I had to wait quite a while for a scooty-cart.  There was no way I was going to make it back out if I tried hoofin’ it in.  (In fact, I used my cane all day when no motor cart was handy.)  I had time to get to know the gentleman People Greeter while I waited.  Nice man.  Say what you want about Wal-Mart, I would rather be greeted at the door with a friendly face than a security guard in uniform like some other big box stores.

Dan is walking around with the laptop searching for a signal.  My camp geek!  In his defense, he was doing it for me. (That’s his story and he’s sticking to it!) All five of us are having a hard time with the lack of connectibility.  We need to move on Cyber Woods and fast!

I’m praying for a better night tonight.  Three weeks of radiation down and the complications are right on schedule.  I was told radiation alone, in my case, would require physical therapy.  I wasn’t supposed to get sick though.  Compared to how sick I would be on Chemo, this is nothing. I shouldn’t complain.   I am not throwing up, but I am finding it harder to make myself eat when I know how it will make me feel after I do.  I cut out raw vegetables and cut back on my coffee intake.  Both staples of my diet that I miss.  I see all caffeine waving bye-bye soon.  Please, don’t go!   No internet AND no caffeine?  How’s a mother to cope?

I do have my Dan and my little ones for the weekend. What more can I want?

Tomorrow we are going to the state park down the road. Going to sit on the beach and watch for whales to pass us by.  And the kids want to make their own paper flowers.  A plan I hope the big boss approves.

Maybe tomorrow will bring a few minutes of the World Wide Web as well?  Who knows, maybe no internet is the right plan after all.

Labor to play with the ones you love.   Sounds like a good one to me.