How we are falling apart.

I have been pondering what has been happening in here in the US. The anger that is being displayed, the violence the vitriol and hate that is permeating from what seems to be every pore of our great nation is mind numbing.

Now is the time to come together, now is the time to stop pointing out each others faults and to stand united.

If we are to ever be united as a nation on some level we are going to have to accept that we as individuals are different yet as Shakespeare so greatly wrote “If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?” I leave the last line of the quote off “And if you wrong us shall we not revenge” for the simple fact that revenge has never solved a thing. Sure you might feel better for a moment but you have damaged the fabric of your being.

I know things are messed up and there are evil people doing evil things but destroying things is not the way to change things. Our country ignored slavery instead of accepting that it happened and making sure things got better for those enslaved, reparations if you will.

I am not color blind that is a false statement “for if you do not see the differences in people you cannot see their beauty.” LB 2015

To ignore our past, to tear it down, to remove it from the history books is to deny that we made mistakes, it also does not keep us from making them again. Slavery was a terrible practice that to this day affects how we deal with each other. But even if the strides have been small there has been movement. Things don’t always move as fast as we want them to. We cannot change minds and attitudes by shouting and beating our chests. We can change things with dialog as long as both sides are willing to listen, we change. We need to save our history we just need to save all of it, not just the parts we agree with.

Many Nations have tried to erase their history and it has been to their detriment, it has brought about the downfall of their society, and friends we are on the brink. Our toes are hanging over the edge, we are one step away from a total breakdown.

We all have our own opinions and some of them are strong. I urge you, my friends, to take a moment and listen, really listen to what someone on the opposite side is saying. Not just hear words but actively listen. You don’t have to agree but if we all listened to each other with a bit of compassion and understanding even if we don’t agree this little corner of the world might just become a bit better.

The Other side….

Well, it’s been a month and six days since surgery. I’ve still continued with my therapist working on tearing it all down and now we are building it back up. I started a therapy called EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) it is used quite often with people who have PTSD. It is a light, sound and thought exercise therapy. I had my first session yesterday and I’m actually feeling better, lighter and more in control of my emotions. The trauma we worked on doesn’t seem to carry the weight it previously did.

On the other side of surgery has been emotional and hard. While I still had all my “parts” there was always hope that we would get pregnant. With that comes a loss, a loss of hope and that is the hardest thing to deal with. You don’t realize just how much the loss of hope will hurt. It is wrenching and painful and crowds your mind with negative thoughts and ideas about who you are and your perceived worth as a woman.

Before you even say it I know that adoption is an option, it has always been an option on the table. It was really hard to think about it in the first couple of weeks after surgery when the mental and physically pain is so present. Again working on things with my therapist has helped immensely.

I feel as if I am starting to let go of the loss of my uterus. The nice 70-degree spring days have helped as well.

Two more weeks and I will be going back to work. I’ve started back working on my classes today so I am slowly moving back to the center of my life. I am probably more centered that I have ever been.

There is finally a lightness within that is such a different feeling than the weight of infertility. I know I’m basically in the same spot as before but this is different, and I’m not going to lie not having to wear a pad and tampon every day of my life has been pretty great for the last month. So I guess that is positive, and I’m focusing on the positives of this entire situation.

I have grown and learned so much in the last few weeks that I’m sure I am a different person with a different outlook on everyday things.

I will come to a place where I am ready to look at adoption and foster care again, for right now I am rediscovering me.

Existentialism in a Nail Shop.

So we are just two days from Surgery.  I keep running things over in my mind. Like who do I need to talk to, what amends to I need to make in case the surgery goes sideways and things don’t end up the way we hope.

I know they do thousands of these surgeries everyday across the world. This is my first open major surgery. While the fear has abated a bit it still lingers.

I had an amazing experience yesterday. I had to get my acrylic nails taken off for surgery because they need the O2 sensor to read accurately. So after a yummy bowl of Pho from Love, Peace & Pho here in South Nashville….so good! Then I went next door to the nail place and had my nails taken off.

The woman that was working on me seemed to notice that I was gloomy and kept asking what was wrong. I assume thinking I was not enjoying my manicure after the removal of the acrylic. I told her the short version of what was going one and she took her mask off and stopped what she was doing and told me about her sister who is also a manicurist and about how one of her clients had brain cancer and had a 1% chance of survival after surgery. She said the client told her sister goodbye but if she survived she would be back. Her sister received a phone call two days later, she had to have someone translate but it was the client calling to tell her she was okay.

She then told me a story of a woman in her country with no insurance that ended up with cancer as well and was okay, she told me I was lucky to be in the US with the excellent medical care and the amazing doctors and that she could see that I was a strong woman and a good woman and that strong good women are rewarded and taken care of. She said your grandmother and mother were strong too. (Never told her anything about them) She said I will see you when you get better for surgery and then…

She stopped talking and looked at me directly in my eyes as if reading my soul and said to me “I don’t know what you believe, God, Buddha, what ever, I say to Buddha every night thank you for my life and my child and my job and all that you have blessed me with. Even if you don’t believe in anything just talk. Just say what you are grateful for and you will be fine.”

It was such a powerful experience there was nothing in the room but the two of us for that moment two strangers. One comforting the other. I began to tear up, it was as if a great weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It was as if this stranger had been tasked that day to remove the fear from my mind. Sure I’m still worried but as for being terrified of dying and leaving this world, this life that is so undone, I’m lighter, I can breath.

I may be in state of flux regarding religion but I do believe that there is something that binds this world together that brings things to and away from us for some reason. I believe that things happen right when they are suppose to happen. I don’t have a name for what it is. You may and that is fine but for right now I’m not sure and that’s okay I’m allowed to have this existential exploration of what I do and do not believe. I believe we all have the right to believe as we choose or right to not believe or whatever. We do however need to support each other in those choices and beliefs even if they are not shared.

Who would have thought and I would find peace and comfort from a Vietnamese Manicurist?

The Fear of Death…

For as long as I can remember I never expected to live to see old age. I’m not sure if it was losing my grandfather when I was 10 or so that triggered my fascination with how long I would live or just what it was.

I was surprised when I turned 25 that I was still alive, then again ten years later, and living to 40 what a shock as well. See deep down I never thought I would live a long life. I never expected to honestly and truly. If you have been reading the last couple of weeks you will know that I am now 41 and at the age my mother was when she started showing signs and symptoms of having cancer, and that I have pre cancerous cells and major surgery coming in just over a week.

My ob oncologist is very thorough. See I have liver disease and there is an increased risk of my liver failing during surgery due to the way the body reacts to anesthesia.  So I’ve had to have extra blood tests and doctors visits and ultra sounds. Each time with the warning of the risk of my life during surgery.

I know I shouldn’t panic. I’ve already had one surgery and came out just fine but it was not as serious as this coming surgery. I am afraid I won’t make it to recovery, I’m afraid that my life will end on the operating table.

See after all these years of feeling like I wouldn’t live to be old I’m afraid now I won’t make it.  People keep telling me it’s a rational fear and that it will be okay and the doctors are just taking extra precautions but I’m afraid.

I’m afraid when I hug and kiss my husband just before they wheel me off that it will be the last time I see him. I wonder how it will feel to just not be anymore.

These are the fears that can eat you alive, these are the not so rational, rational thoughts that plague you when you face your mortality. This is why I’m going to see a therapist on Thursday. This is why getting help when you have a mental illness is so important. I know I’m spiraling. I know i’m fixating. I know in the rational part of my brain that this will be fine, but there is that little voice that keeps saying what if? What if…….I guess I will deal with what if when it happens.

So I guess that’s that…It’s not fair.

Well the visit with the oncologist was long and informative and exhausting all at the same time. It boils down to this.

I have a 6 inch cyst on my left ovary, yup you read that right six inches.  It is pushing my bladder and my uterus out of position which has been causing some auxiliary problems that I just thought were part of getting older.

The surgery will remove both ovaries, both fallopian tubes, my uterus and my cervix. They will be doing an open incision because they want to remove everything in tact so that they can do a frozen dissection and test for any other pre cancerous/cancerous cells.

I will be spending 4 to 5 days in the hospital afterwards and then 6 to 8 weeks on home rest after that.

Good news is that I will have plenty of time to complete my last three classes, bad news I won’t be able to do anything much.

We were hoping to keep one of my ovaries so that we could harvest eggs and possibly use a surrogate but the percentage of having viable eggs is less than 20% so adoption it is for us.

I’m sad, angry and ready to shout at the world it’s not fair. Because to be honest it’s not.

My husband and I have stable income a beautiful home and deeply desire to have a family of our own. Nieces and nephews are great but it’s just not the same.  Why is it that those that do not have these things can pop kids out seemingly on a whim?

I believe in choice and accountability for your actions but it’s just not fair. When I think about all the babies that are lost to abortions or not wanted or harmed by their “parents”.  Especially when their are loving couples that can provide all the love and support for these children. How do we live in a world where children are abused and tossed away so effortlessly?

When did it become okay for human life to become disposable? AGAIN and I can’t stress this enough what you decide to do with your body and the things that go in and come out of it is your business and your choice. I have no right to tell you what is right for you but for those of us that don’t have a choice it is very painful. It crushes our very souls. It weighs us down and makes us want to rip a new one in the fabric of society.

At the end of the day I will take my meds, put my cpap on and lay down and go to sleep and wake up in the morning with all these feelings bubbling to the surface. It has been like that for ten years. The yearning and desperate desire to be a mother, and who knows how much longer that desire will go unfulfilled.

At the end of it all I get to feel like it’s not ever fair nor will it ever be. I know there is no promise of fairness in this mortal life we live. I know that, and can’t change it.  I can acknowledge it and struggle to accept it but I don’t have to like it. Acceptance and like are not equal to each other. So therefore I can accept this hand dealt to me but I don’t have to like it.

The C word and the fear it strikes in my heart.

In November of 1992 my mother was diagnosed with late stage adenocarcinoma of the lung. By the time they found the cancer it had already spread to her bones and her internal organs and later her brain. From diagnosis to death it was a very short 90 days. She was 43 when she died.

I was 19 years old. I had just graduated from high school the previous June. I didn’t have a clue what to do next.

Flash forward to January of 2015, sitting in a coffee shop I received a call from my doctor. Atypical pre cancerous cells have been found in my uterus.  I am 41. The same age that my mother starting showing signs and symptoms of her cancer.

I have an appointment with the oncologist on the 26th of January. That is when we find out just how much surgery is involved and if chemo is going to happen.

I’m scared, terrified really. I feel like I’m in a living nightmare of recurring déjà vu. I know that cancer research has come a long way since 1993. I know that catching it early is a good thing. I know my chances are better, but I want to shout from the top of the world “It’s not fair”.

There are too many things I want to do in my life. To many moments I have left.  These are the thoughts that haunt me during the dark times. When it’s quiet and my brain likes to wander. When I wonder what is next.

Sure it’s a simple surgery, sure they just found atypical pre-cancerous cells in the one tiny sample of the vast landscape that is my innards, but that one tiny sample and those itty bitty cells that are not normal that are the breeding ground for much worse have screwed up my year.

See I started my second year at college. I’m doing great in school. Sure I struggle and cry over math. Once I understand the concepts it sticks to my brain like it is modge podged there. My marriage is great. L is my best friend and my reasonable side. I’m surround by friends and family that love me and care about me and make me feel secure and supported.

So why the hell am I so scared?

Because I don’t want this to be my end. Because I’m better than this. My life is worth more than a few stupid abnormal cells. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to know what’s on the other side. I have too many things to conquer in my life.

I want more long walks with my husband.

I want more peanut butter, strawberry jelly, mint and bacon toasted sandwiches at Clawson’s.

I want to cruise the world with the love of my life.

I want to dig toes in the sand and watch the sun set as often as possible.

I want my life to mean something.

I want to change the lives of those around me.

I want more sloppy wet dog noses smearing my glasses.

I want more Notre Dame Football and Predators Hockey.

I want more laughter and inside jokes with my husband.

I want more quite times for us to just be.

I want life and all it’s glory and ugliness to go on until the twilight of my years.

See I am still wanting, I am still selfish, yet never lacking in these moments of my life. I know it is early in my diagnois but these are the fears that plague me in the darkness of night.