I've spent January mourning the losses in our metastatic community, trying to enjoy sleep-deprived new-puppy-parenthood, briefly visiting my brother and his family in Spokane, and making room for a few other advocacy endeavors I've got going (stay tuned!) Not to mention start-of-the-year doctors' visits, dental check-ups, and a biopsy of a weird spot on my elbow thanks to an overly-cautious dermatologist.
I haven't found much time to collect my thoughts these past few weeks. I've been waiting for my words to come back. Waiting for my anger to subside.
Related, I find, to letting go of some anger is me trying to work on my patience. It was my one resolution for 2016. As one mama put it on theglow.com:
"Nothing is more important than the right now, so focus on right now." Yes, a million times this.
Last night I dreamt that I had a bad PET scan, even though I'm not due to cross that bridge for another couple of months. I dreamt that I had to start broad-spectrum chemo again, that I was losing my hair but didn't tell anyone until my friend noticed I was wearing a wig at Pilates. I woke myself up crying. Scared. Angry. Quinn was in our bed, between Chris and me, and I snuggled up against him, inhaling his little boy scent, feeling the reality of his warmth and the steadiness of his breath until I was able to steady my own. It was -- for now -- just a bad dream.
Nothing is more important than the right now, even at 3:30 in the morning. But, man, do cancer and mortality and friends dying know how to mess with a girl's subconscious. My nurse (and friend) at my infusion center tells me there's a pattern to these deaths, that she's been doing this long enough to know January is the worst. People set goals for the holidays.
In that case, I'm setting a goal for Christmas of 2074.
I hope to get back to some sort of regularity here sometime soon, but in the meantime I've been busy focusing on the right now -- busy with soccer practices and birthday parties and puppy hikes (much shorter than regular hikes) and trying to think of ways to better serve this metastatic community to which I belong. As I said, I have some things brewing. I hope they'll pan out. I hope they'll make you guys proud. Please bear with me.
I am with Jen. Always. I believe in you!!
ReplyDeleteI am with Jen. Always. I believe in you!!
ReplyDeleteI'm lucky to have you in my life.
DeleteMany of us are already proud of you, Jen. And personally, I am grateful for all you do.
ReplyDeleteI am sorry about the bad dream. I get them too and they always seem so real. I wake up scared. Like you I've been trying to take more frequent breaks, especially from social media. There were too much sad news the last couple of months and it would be unrealistic to think we can just become immune to them. It's a reality we can't easily walk away from, even if we wanted to (at least in my case). You continue to do your best and I hope your next PET scan is better than you had ever imagined. I always think positive thoughts for you.
I am looking forward to reading about your advocacy endeavors! Stay well. xoxo
Thank you, dear. I hope to meet you at one of these events someday soon. XO
DeleteHi Jen,
ReplyDeleteYes, those bad dreams suck. Your "right now" is very busy with the stuff of life, so yes, savor and focus on them. And those things you have brewing make me quite curious. No matter what, like Rebecca said, we are already very proud of you.
Nancy, thanks for the support. Your support of me, but more importantly, the mets community, means so much.
DeleteAs always, thanks for sharing your thoughts. I too am trying to dig deep, find my patience an enjoy the here and now. Last night I harrumphed off the couch to tuck my 7 year old back in bed who was "scared", read didn't want to be alone in bed. I felt terrible when she said "sorry to bother you" because I had made it clear that I didn't want to be bothered (of course, I'm a tired mama dealing with kids who get out of bed 6,456 times at the time when I'm trying to unwind). Anywho, she needed me and felt like a bad mom for making her feel like a burden. I am trying to do better. Always trying.
ReplyDeleteI had a very similar experience this week. I'm currently reading "No Drama Discipline" which has some incredibly helpful thoughts about approaching parenthood with more patience and in the process strengthening the connections with our children. But I think "always trying" is a damn good start.
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