I Can't Thank You Enough

So it appears I really DID run out of words for a bit.

I've calmed down a little, but then I have moments -- frequent, frequent moments -- where I am not okay all over again. My grief and fear come out in irritability, anxiety, and more goddammits than I'd like to admit. I find myself out of patience more often than not, short with Chris (or worse, Quinn) more than I'd like, and then hard on myself for how shitty these episodes make me feel.

This weekend, Chris was out of town and our new puppy peed on the kitchen floor approximately 45 paper towels' worth of times and Quinn might be going through a growth spurt because he wants to eat all of the things all of the time. And -- oh, man -- his whininess. And my grouchiness. And and and.

Our cat is on Prozac, and this weekend, I thought of borrowing a couple of his pills for myself. (I'm joking. Kind of.)

Last night, Quinn needed help brushing his teeth, and called for me. I was moving the dog's crate into my bedroom and didn't respond immediately. My hands were full. Quinn got cranky and snapped at me a couple of seconds later, a full-on yell with a little bit of desperation in his voice: "MOM, I SAID I NEEDED HELP!!" I was already on my way to his bathroom door, showed up a second later, and asked him to remember his patience. "I'm doing the best I can, buddy."

But am I really? I yelled approximately eighteen times yesterday, exhausted and at the end of my rope and just over it.

Quinn is my mirror. These are my faults reflected back at me. Sometimes I really don't like what I see.

My resolution for 2016? Work on my patience. Breathe more. Be mindful in my relationships at home. See less of "mean mommy," who is angry and scared and prone to swearing in front of her 4-year-old, sometimes about dog pee, which is really not his fault in the slightest.

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On the drive to my oncologist's office this morning, I listened to Diane Rehm interview Carly Simon about her memoir Boys in the Trees. Simon was talking about a song she co-wrote with her son after an argument between them in which he'd said something quite hurtful. He'd immediately followed her upstairs to apologize. She was crying, and sat down with her guitar to come up with the first verse of "I Can't Thank You Enough." When she sang it to him, he asked if he could help write the rest of it.

So of course I was a blubbering idiot driving to my doctor's office (where I'm now sitting getting my thrice-weekly infusion of Kadcyla). But this came exactly when I needed it, and might be the song I request to dance with Quinn at his wedding. In the meantime, I'll listen to it when I need a reminder to be more careful with my words...or a good cry.

A Book Update + Some Advice from Stephen King

So far, this month has not gone as I'd planned.

Side note, sort of: I finished the first draft of my book just before Thanksgiving. A friend and former colleague helped me move parts around so that it didn't take such drastic temporal leaps. It has a flow that I think makes sense now, thanks to her input and organizational skills. I no longer repeat the same stories four separate times, thanks to her keen eye and editing efforts.

Then on the advice of Stephen King (who's been somewhat successful at writing books), I decided I was going to let my manuscript sit, untouched, for six weeks. The idea being that when I came back to it, it would be with a fresh set of eyes. In theory, I'd be ready to cut out the parts that were unnecessary (no matter how brilliantly I thought I'd written them) or add details that would help carry the story forward or fix the parts that weren't so well-written.

My plan was to spend this month, after the clamor of the holidays had quieted down, to set to work on draft number two. I would be diligent in the new year, without the distraction of present-buying or cookie-making or company-hosting. Quinn would be back at preschool after an extended holiday break, so I'd have more free time. Or so I thought.

Then, I was hit with the worst cold I've had in at least a year, and just as I was recovering, Quinn had to have surgery. My little guy needed me. Editing my memoir would have to wait until both of us were back on our feet, back to our routines, backing away from the Tinker Toys and television overload.

And there went the first two-and-a-half weeks of my year.

So that's the update on my book. It's done, sort of, but still needs some reworking in spots. I've got a meeting with my agent this week, who, if I'm lucky, won't drop me just yet for still having not completed this project. Then I'm meeting with a friend next week who's also writing a book, hers on how writing helps us heal. (Here's further proof.) My friend and I are sitting down during my chemo infusion to exchange chapters, to read and critique and (I hope) praise each other's work. Please wish me luck.

Another friend recently wrote me that she doesn't set new year's resolutions so much as new year's goals, the idea being that an aspiration is somehow more achievable -- maybe because the idea of it is more approachable? -- than a strict resolution. If that's true, my goal of the early part of this year is to wrap up this project, perhaps tie it in twine, send it on its way, and pray my agent is able to find a publisher.

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In the meantime (or when I'm looking for inspiration), I recently read this, just started this, and am waiting on this, which was written by my sorority sister and friend Amelia, and is available for pre-order now. Amelia's book is bound to be as clever and poignant and hilarious as her blog. Go get yourself a copy! Or let me know what books you're reading lately. We'll start a club and discuss over some wine. Because another thing Stephen King told me is: "If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others; read a lot and write a lot." Hey, at least I'm still finding (a teensy bit of) time to read.

Resolutions, Schmesolutions

I have been asked so many times since being diagnosed with cancer whether I've changed my diet. My answer is always: not really. I was pregnant and then nursing for more than a year prior to my diagnosis, and I took those jobs seriously. I aimed to eat organic, whole foods most of the time. I took my prenatal vitamins. I only cooked with organic, free-range, grass-fed meats or wild-caught fish. I might have been a little obnoxious about it, but I hope not too terribly so.

My diet was far from perfect, I'm sure, but it's not like I was eating at McDonald's or KFC. Not that I would judge a person for that. Much.

When I was undergoing chemo-chemo, I ate what I could. Sometimes that meant I was drinking Gatorade -- red dye #5, sugar and all -- just to stay hydrated. Raw fruits and vegetables were largely off-limits because they could carry harmful bacteria, at least until my white blood cell counts rebounded. Not that I had the stomach for salad anyway. I just wanted to keep my weight up and stay reasonably healthy through treatment. If anything, I was less strict about what I ate because I just wanted to have an appetite for anything.

Last year, I even shook my head a little at friends who all seemed to be jumping on the paleo bandwagon. Mostly because the word drives my anthropologist, evolution-studying husband crazy. And I couldn't see how depriving myself of entire food groups was going to make me any happier. (Plus, I was really iffy as to whether it would make me any healthier.)

Do you know that I didn't have any signs of cancer in 2014? 

And so I let some things slide, especially in December. There were neighborhood open houses, cookie exchange parties, end-of-the-semester celebrations, Christmas Eve gatherings, and New Year's Eve toasts. I ate gingerbread and chocolate and cheese and peppermint-and-white-chocolate-covered pretzels and I drank wine and champagne like my pre-cancer self. I thoroughly overindulged. I had the breakouts and bloating to show for it. The holidays were fun, but if any January called for culinary austerity, it was this one.

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My goal was to do the Whole30 thing. If you're not familiar, it calls for eating whole, fresh foods with no added sweeteners of any kind, no dairy, and no grains for 30 days. Also, no alcohol. As I dug a little deeper into the theory, I came across blogs with quotes like, "You haven't really lived until you've made your own paleo mayonnaise." Or I realized my (uncured, organic) bacon wasn't "diet" enough for this diet because there was some sugar in it. For that kind of bacon, I'd have to pay $18 per pound, and I just couldn't rally myself behind that kind of quackery.

It also turns out that -- although I love to cook -- prepping meals in advance for an entire week is not my forte. I found myself subsisting on mostly Lara bars and trail mix, or apples dipped in almond butter, or "cheating" with non-diet bacon or a bite of Quinn's leftover pancakes.

I've been pretty great about limiting sweets and alcohol, and I'm proud of that. I've cut way down on my dairy and pasta intake. The combination has done wonders for my skin and my digestive system. I'm pretty sure I'm eating more nuts and nut butters and seeds than most birds, so I should probably figure out some alternative snacks.

This experiment has been eye-opening. I will probably never be the type of person who makes her own mayonnaise. Just about every type of packaged food out there has added sugar. A couple of glasses of wine a month might be necessary for my mental health. And I'm terrible at diets that are this restrictive.

Did you make any resolutions this month? Have you stuck with them? If so, please tell me your secrets!   I hear that if I write down my goals and share them with people, I am more likely to stick to them. Hence, this post.

Next up: my other project/resolution of sorts and an update on my book, the ultimate of new year's resolutions.

My Anti-Resolution

2014 is well underway, and I feel like I'm lacking in resolutions. How about you? I think January naturally lends itself to moderation after the excesses of the holidays, but I don't know that the month needs to turn into a let's-all-feel-guilty-about-gluten, -dairy, and -alcohol party. Because a) that doesn't sound like a very fun party, and b) we carry enough guilt around with us without setting ourselves up for failure at the start of the year, right? Or maybe that's just me?

Yes, there is something incredibly rewarding about the post-holiday fridge clean-out, but that has less to do with giving-up-the-pie-for-breakfast habit and more to do with being able to find the milk on the shelf again. What does any of this have to do with cancer? Not much, unless you believe pumpkin pie gives you cancer.

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On that note...

Since my diagnosis, I have gotten scores of advice regarding what to eat (or not), supplements to take, whether it's okay to have dessert or a glass of wine, all in the name of curing my cancer. There have been studies saying drinking more than three glasses of wine per week increases one's risk for breast cancer, and then studies saying survivors who drink slightly more are at a reduced risk for death from cardiovascular disease. No one tells you how any of these applies to Stage 4 patients. There are also studies suggesting higher starch intake is associated with increased breast cancer recurrence rates, so maybe I should resolve to avoid potatoes?

I used to get in a panic about it, because what if I did this to myself? What if I could make this go away based on what I ate? And maybe that is a possibility, but as a cancer patient, I've also had to balance my diet choices with what is actually palatable and with maintaining my weight, which I'm afraid would drop dangerously low if I cut out all carbs. For those of you keeping track, I'm proud to say I'm up 13 pounds from my lowest point last year. The holidays had their work cut out for them and they didn't disappoint.

I also struggle with the idea of how moderation fits into any diet that omits any food group in its entirety. Then again, if I knew going dairy-free or gluten-free or potato-free would cure cancer, I’d sign on in a heartbeat. For now, I just try to limit my intake of processed foods, drink 3 glasses or less wine a week (most weeks), and eat lots of organic veggies. For now, it seems to be working. For now, my blood work and weight and energy levels are pretty good.

After hearing it enough from various sources, though, I brought up the question of whether I should avoid all sugar to my oncologist. He told me, "All things in moderation." He explained he'd be more concerned about my sugar intake if I was obese, since fat cells produce estrogen. Because estrogen can fuel some breast cancer, including my own, excess weight can be dangerous. Otherwise, nothing wrong with a little pumpkin pie now and then.

So I haven't come up with much in the way of resolutions, but I am a sucker for a clean slate (or fridge, as the case may be), which for me is the beauty of a new year. That we get to let go--of excess, of guilt, of whatever isn't serving us or helping us be our best selves. To a small degree, we give ourselves the freedom to start over.

For me, this year anyway, my goal is to be gentler with myself. Think of it as an anti-resolution. (I'm starting a trend here, I can feel it.) My goal is to not feel guilty about having a scone for breakfast or sharing a quesadilla with Quinn for dinner--in fact, to enjoy it for who I get to share the meal with. To not beat myself up for not writing as much as I'd like, since it would often come at the expense of putting Quinn to bed and I don't want to miss that time, although I am trying to finish my book this year. To not feel so abnormal when I get fed up with my two-year-old's defiance or lose my cool and yell. Turns out, other moms feel this way (and yell at their kids sometimes), too.

I've only been at it a week, but somehow, by being gentler on myself, I've found more space to breathe, which in turn (I think) is helping me be a kinder, gentler parent and maybe even spouse. After years of practice, I'm finally, finally able to carry a little more of my yoga off the mat and into my everyday life (the trick is in the breathing, really). I have a feeling 2014 is going to be a good year.

Tell me, what are your resolutions (or anti-resolutions) for the year?