I have been really quiet, lately. Basically, a whole bunch of amazing people have died around me. The latest was last night. I go between grief and numbness. I wonder when my number is up. I wonder if my short term goal is too ambitious now.
I feel this urgent need to get everything in order. I did have a will drawn up upon diagnosis, but I need to update it and fine tune it. I also need to get all of my paperwork in order. I have been playing around with memorial ideas for a long time, but need to solidify it. I sure hope people step up, because hubby can not handle or afford the burden of stupid crap like that. No flowers. No somber music. No body. Burn, baby, burn. Heck, put my ashes in a paper cup, or dump them into the kitty litter. It doesn't matter. Why do people put so much thought and cash into a dead body? I can't look when there is a wake. It's not the person. It's a bunch of rotting flesh and stuff. They're long gone from this vessel. They're probably floating above, thinking of how gross it is to have their old body laid out for all to see. And coffins? Super expensive... for what? All that land? Really? Why not build a homeless shelter, or a medical facility, or a farm, or a non profit building to help others? A bunch of rotting flesh and bones in very expensive boxes under the ground seems dumb, to me. I know. It's some sort of odd tradition. I don't get it. Light a match and perhaps dump me in the dirt so I can help the world by fertilizing something. Eh. Whatever.
Like I said. Grief to numbness. I'm numb right now. I'm not ready to go. Neither were any of the people I've lost in the past month. It's coming, for all of us. Can I get 2 weeks notice?
Tuesday, May 9, 2017
Saturday, February 11, 2017
Life as an old lady in a not as old body.
Sigh.
So, I have a pretty big deal thing coming up. It requires me to strut, almost naked, in front of a packed room with cameras, video, etc. going on.
I had successfully been losing to my menopause, gaining almost 10 lbs. At my size, other people don't seem to really notice, but I feel everything. It got hard to breathe. It was hard to move. I felt defeated.
Then I got asked to do this pretty big deal thing. Sure!
Wait, what did I just say?
I can NOT lumber along the runway with a baker's dozen of muffin tops poking out of my tree trunk core like wild mushrooms in the woods.
SO, I've been painfully good. I mean, and don't lecture me, basically eating one small meal in the early evening. Yes, I have my coffee that is loaded with calories and fat, the bulletproof kind of concoction I love. So, there's that. And all day? Water. Tea. More water. A spot of more tea. Way more hydration that usual, which is usually a lot. Some random grapes or whatever is not a 200 calorie protein bar. Around 4:30pm or so, when I feel like I can choose between passing out and speaking with the spirits, I eat. Salad - LOTS of salad. With avocado. Maybe a small organic beef patty. Small piece of organic, grass fed steak. The other night, my daughter baked plain chicken wings. I had 2. THIS IS HARD! How do anorexics do this? I'm probably gluttonous compared to them. *anorexia=not me*
2 nights ago, I was cleaning the place. Nothing major. No big lifting, just doing things. I fell on my non-lymphedema arm. Hard. WHY? Because, I didn't want to fall on my lymphedema arm and end up in the hospital.
So, there I was. Elegantly sprawled on my side, unable to move or speak. I guess I'm not used to being clumsy. This has been happening since radiation. Yeah. The stuff that destroyed me but let my cancer live. THAT radiation.
It was painful enough that I worried I had broken a bone. Which, I have never done in my life. I realized I was able to move my arm, though painfully.
After 2 days of home remedies, my cantaloupe sized bruise is still the same size, but has reached light purple today. It still hurts like a mofo. What have I been doing? Glad you asked.
My Weirdo Treatments for Healing a Bruise so that when I'm doing the Pretty Big Deal Thing:
Ice the first night. On for as long as it felt good, then off to throw the broccoli back in the freezer and warm up. Arnica in between icings.
First Technical Day:Arnica fairly obsessively. Read that bromelain is good. Take bromelain supplements and eat half of a pineapple after measly salad.
Second Technical Day: Witch Hazel and arnica alternating in morning. Make a paste of vitamin c powder. Apply to bruise and let dry. Rinse and repeat. The third application, I left it on and put a huge bandaid not quite enough to fit over it, but good enough, and go to gym. Still need to be as waify as possible. Come home. Shower, witch hazel, fancy new bruise cream just purchased, when dry, apply vitamin c paste, repeat ad nauseum. Eat other half of pineapple. Follow by salad and grapes. Wonder if models hate food or themselves. Eh. I guess if I was making mucho bank for being skinny, I'd weigh about 75 lbs.
So, today is that day. Tomorrow is the Pretty Big Deal Thing.
I have crazy strong makeup that, if layered enough times, will cover it pretty much.
So, what are my plans for tonight, besides worry? Seems like enough activity to me! Especially since I just did my nails.
But on my nightstand, like last night, will be witch hazel, cotton, arnica, new fancy bruise stuff... yup. A racy Saturday night.
So, there you have it. Hopefully it'll be a lot better soon. Or, I'll need to find a good bulk pineapple dealer.
So, I have a pretty big deal thing coming up. It requires me to strut, almost naked, in front of a packed room with cameras, video, etc. going on.
I had successfully been losing to my menopause, gaining almost 10 lbs. At my size, other people don't seem to really notice, but I feel everything. It got hard to breathe. It was hard to move. I felt defeated.
Then I got asked to do this pretty big deal thing. Sure!
Wait, what did I just say?
I can NOT lumber along the runway with a baker's dozen of muffin tops poking out of my tree trunk core like wild mushrooms in the woods.
SO, I've been painfully good. I mean, and don't lecture me, basically eating one small meal in the early evening. Yes, I have my coffee that is loaded with calories and fat, the bulletproof kind of concoction I love. So, there's that. And all day? Water. Tea. More water. A spot of more tea. Way more hydration that usual, which is usually a lot. Some random grapes or whatever is not a 200 calorie protein bar. Around 4:30pm or so, when I feel like I can choose between passing out and speaking with the spirits, I eat. Salad - LOTS of salad. With avocado. Maybe a small organic beef patty. Small piece of organic, grass fed steak. The other night, my daughter baked plain chicken wings. I had 2. THIS IS HARD! How do anorexics do this? I'm probably gluttonous compared to them. *anorexia=not me*
2 nights ago, I was cleaning the place. Nothing major. No big lifting, just doing things. I fell on my non-lymphedema arm. Hard. WHY? Because, I didn't want to fall on my lymphedema arm and end up in the hospital.
It was painful enough that I worried I had broken a bone. Which, I have never done in my life. I realized I was able to move my arm, though painfully.
After 2 days of home remedies, my cantaloupe sized bruise is still the same size, but has reached light purple today. It still hurts like a mofo. What have I been doing? Glad you asked.
My Weirdo Treatments for Healing a Bruise so that when I'm doing the Pretty Big Deal Thing:
Ice the first night. On for as long as it felt good, then off to throw the broccoli back in the freezer and warm up. Arnica in between icings.
First Technical Day:Arnica fairly obsessively. Read that bromelain is good. Take bromelain supplements and eat half of a pineapple after measly salad.
Second Technical Day: Witch Hazel and arnica alternating in morning. Make a paste of vitamin c powder. Apply to bruise and let dry. Rinse and repeat. The third application, I left it on and put a huge bandaid not quite enough to fit over it, but good enough, and go to gym. Still need to be as waify as possible. Come home. Shower, witch hazel, fancy new bruise cream just purchased, when dry, apply vitamin c paste, repeat ad nauseum. Eat other half of pineapple. Follow by salad and grapes. Wonder if models hate food or themselves. Eh. I guess if I was making mucho bank for being skinny, I'd weigh about 75 lbs.
So, today is that day. Tomorrow is the Pretty Big Deal Thing.
I have crazy strong makeup that, if layered enough times, will cover it pretty much.
So, what are my plans for tonight, besides worry? Seems like enough activity to me! Especially since I just did my nails.
But on my nightstand, like last night, will be witch hazel, cotton, arnica, new fancy bruise stuff... yup. A racy Saturday night.
So, there you have it. Hopefully it'll be a lot better soon. Or, I'll need to find a good bulk pineapple dealer.
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
Bahhhhh Humbug.
I suck. I haven't posted since August. Not that I haven't wanted to. I have had fantasies of writing eloquent, elaborate posts about my goings-on in my life with cancer.
But, it makes me tired and cranky.
So, there's that!
Anyway, I'm officially diagnosed as being in menopause. AGAIN.
First time was on the tamoxifen. Let's give Tamoxifen a big middle finger!
Now, Mama Nature has taken over, has checked out my cavity of warfare and destruction via Western Medicine, and has decided it's time to shut down some operations. Like, ability to make another kiddo. Because, quite frankly, who wants to get pregnant when they're condemned to a lifetime of cancer and lymphedema? I babysat an infant with hubs a while back, and I had to put him down quite often because of my arm. Not because of him - he is a soft, sweet smelling cuddle bug. How would I cope with pregnancy? Sleeping less than usual? Changing poopie things, etc? Yeah... no. Even if I were wealthy and could hire a full time nanny? No. It's unfair. Not only because I can't really keep up with a baby and life, but because I could drop dead during their Kindergarten Graduation. Seems selfish, no? Also, I'm done having kids, and have known that since she was 3. She's in high school. Yeah. Done.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kid. Like crazy. Also, she makes me crazy sometimes. That never overshadows my undying love and unconditional cravings to just smoosh her beautiful face up and tell her that she can drop her anxiety, her insecurity, her fears. The world is a crazy place, and she's brilliant and shall overcome the BS of society. I hope.
Anyway, it's been very busy. My body has been rebelling in a million ways. Between the hot flashes, the weird dryness (my skin etc. are just dust right now, and I'm assuming my bones are packing their bags to join it, as well - remember when I had osteoporosis? Dear Jebus, I can't handle that kind of excruciating pain again, but I hope it will be more gradual this time) Actually, this has been a little more tolerable - I guess because I didn't pop a pill every day that basically turned off my woman switch. But still - I'm too young for this crap. My white hairs are having babies. My skin is changing. People still say I look 15 years younger than I am, but dang. I do have days where I think I look exactly my age. Maybe, if I make it to 50 (my short term goal - yippee!) I'll treat myself to a facelift. Except I don't want elective surgery. After all of this? Zoinks.
I googled "plastic surgery gone wrong" and decided to not post a photo. Why? I'm not in the biz of making fun of people. But, I would most likely end up looking like a stretched out piece of cold cut. Eh.
As I think more, I think it might be nice to make it to the age of crows feet. No, I don't want them, but it's still a goal to reach! Let's hope the coconut oil I use on my skin keeps them waiting in the wings a bit longer - which will give me more time (in my fantasy world clock) to get there! When do folks get those things, typically? I'm addicted to sunglasses, so that's on my side. But, I like laughing. Which keeps me feeling young, but, the wrinkles... ugh. *note to self - try laughing without your eyes*
Smiling, sans eyes.
Dagnabbit. Foiled again.
Well, despite my menopause, hot flashes and all - I'm still here. I may not be a crotchety old lady, but you kids still need to get off my damned lawn!
But, it makes me tired and cranky.
So, there's that!
Anyway, I'm officially diagnosed as being in menopause. AGAIN.
First time was on the tamoxifen. Let's give Tamoxifen a big middle finger!
Now, Mama Nature has taken over, has checked out my cavity of warfare and destruction via Western Medicine, and has decided it's time to shut down some operations. Like, ability to make another kiddo. Because, quite frankly, who wants to get pregnant when they're condemned to a lifetime of cancer and lymphedema? I babysat an infant with hubs a while back, and I had to put him down quite often because of my arm. Not because of him - he is a soft, sweet smelling cuddle bug. How would I cope with pregnancy? Sleeping less than usual? Changing poopie things, etc? Yeah... no. Even if I were wealthy and could hire a full time nanny? No. It's unfair. Not only because I can't really keep up with a baby and life, but because I could drop dead during their Kindergarten Graduation. Seems selfish, no? Also, I'm done having kids, and have known that since she was 3. She's in high school. Yeah. Done.
Don't get me wrong, I love my kid. Like crazy. Also, she makes me crazy sometimes. That never overshadows my undying love and unconditional cravings to just smoosh her beautiful face up and tell her that she can drop her anxiety, her insecurity, her fears. The world is a crazy place, and she's brilliant and shall overcome the BS of society. I hope.
Anyway, it's been very busy. My body has been rebelling in a million ways. Between the hot flashes, the weird dryness (my skin etc. are just dust right now, and I'm assuming my bones are packing their bags to join it, as well - remember when I had osteoporosis? Dear Jebus, I can't handle that kind of excruciating pain again, but I hope it will be more gradual this time) Actually, this has been a little more tolerable - I guess because I didn't pop a pill every day that basically turned off my woman switch. But still - I'm too young for this crap. My white hairs are having babies. My skin is changing. People still say I look 15 years younger than I am, but dang. I do have days where I think I look exactly my age. Maybe, if I make it to 50 (my short term goal - yippee!) I'll treat myself to a facelift. Except I don't want elective surgery. After all of this? Zoinks.
I googled "plastic surgery gone wrong" and decided to not post a photo. Why? I'm not in the biz of making fun of people. But, I would most likely end up looking like a stretched out piece of cold cut. Eh.
As I think more, I think it might be nice to make it to the age of crows feet. No, I don't want them, but it's still a goal to reach! Let's hope the coconut oil I use on my skin keeps them waiting in the wings a bit longer - which will give me more time (in my fantasy world clock) to get there! When do folks get those things, typically? I'm addicted to sunglasses, so that's on my side. But, I like laughing. Which keeps me feeling young, but, the wrinkles... ugh. *note to self - try laughing without your eyes*
Smiling, sans eyes.
Dagnabbit. Foiled again.
Saturday, August 27, 2016
Whoa... 3 months? I think I've only had one cycle since my last post!
Yeah. Life has been super busy - as always - but I just can't, or won't, keep up with everything. My brain races, by nature. I used to always follow it, in 47 different directions. Now, I tell it to shut up. A lot. It's not easy, but I need some sort of breathing space. I'll let you know when/if I find some!
Life has been nuts. My neuropathy is still tingling. Some days, really bad. I don't care how foolish I look in public - some things never change! I shake it around like a rag doll. I work the lymph spots that are not thought provoking in public (I won't go as far as the groin clusters, but will do the neck and underarm and inner elbow spots as well as the whole arm/hand). I'm not embarrassed to do the groin, but in public - I certainly don't want attention from folks who might find that "interesting".
My weight has been frustratingly stagnant. I was actually on my way to the gym when I remembered I haven't sent an update out, via blogger. Even though this is sort of anonymous, I do have actual friends who know who I am. They see me on social media, but I don't post all, health wise.
I'm not sure about the weight, except my freaking hormones. My cycle used to be clockwork. Then, tamoxifen. It turned to painful chaos. It did come back, but my cycle goes from 2 weeks to (so far) 9. It's been over 5 since my last hit from the uterus. About 2 weeks ago, and again 1, I felt PMS cramps etc. Nothing. Tumbleweeds. Not really - that would likely hurt. But, nothing.
So I have been working out more than ever, and my weight, which would normally respond, hasn't. But, I guess being active is better than not, and I'm not in a horrible place, just a few up from my happy zone. I guess I can't have a 20-something's body forever. There, I said it. I've been working so hard on my health and body, and yes - vanity does fuel part of my drive. But, I have a birthday coming up in a week and, as much as I hate it when I hear it, I do look pretty ok "for my age". Of course, I need to cover those pesky greys and we just had our bathroom remodeled. Why, when we're broke?
Flashback to "death kitchen". I had our kitchen totally demolished and rebuilt, custom cabinets, ridiculous gorgeous tiles, the works. Even a wall knocked down and a half wall built as a breakfast type bar. Or, a bar type bar. It handles both positions equally well. Actually, we don't eat breakfast, so bar bar wins. Cheers!
This is "death bathroom". Our place is nice, but they sure didn't think about style or function with these essential rooms. If you recall, if I posted, I had always wanted a dishwasher. Got it. I also have always wanted frosted glass shower doors. I hate the curtain thing. Hate it. Hate. It. Got it. Again custom cabinets (matches the kitchen!), gorgeous marble counter, fancy dual-flush toilet, slightly deeper tub (had to do a dance to approve via co-op, apparently), big tiles up to the ceiling, a splash wall of yellow tiles, and voila. Death Bathroom. Honestly? We can't afford it. Another moment of honesty - I don't give a crap. Well, actually I do, since that's one function of said room.
Ok, off to the gym now. I'm not sure how much I can accomplish, but I'm bringing a book so that I can park my butt on a bike at the end of my rope (physical or mental pooping out) and burn a few more. I do enjoy the sweat now - started getting workout clothes that encourage sweat. They work! I used to never really sweat much in the gym, but this is really good for my lymph and circulation in general. Ironically, they're slightly thick, so I look bigger than I am, but I'm not out to impress anyone at the gym. I'm out to make my life as good as I can. Who knew that sweat would help? (and yes, I do sweat in real life, but the gym? They're too cold, in general! Hubs always sweats, but that could be a boy thing). Until next time... hopefully sooner than December! ;)
Life has been nuts. My neuropathy is still tingling. Some days, really bad. I don't care how foolish I look in public - some things never change! I shake it around like a rag doll. I work the lymph spots that are not thought provoking in public (I won't go as far as the groin clusters, but will do the neck and underarm and inner elbow spots as well as the whole arm/hand). I'm not embarrassed to do the groin, but in public - I certainly don't want attention from folks who might find that "interesting".
My weight has been frustratingly stagnant. I was actually on my way to the gym when I remembered I haven't sent an update out, via blogger. Even though this is sort of anonymous, I do have actual friends who know who I am. They see me on social media, but I don't post all, health wise.
I'm not sure about the weight, except my freaking hormones. My cycle used to be clockwork. Then, tamoxifen. It turned to painful chaos. It did come back, but my cycle goes from 2 weeks to (so far) 9. It's been over 5 since my last hit from the uterus. About 2 weeks ago, and again 1, I felt PMS cramps etc. Nothing. Tumbleweeds. Not really - that would likely hurt. But, nothing.
So I have been working out more than ever, and my weight, which would normally respond, hasn't. But, I guess being active is better than not, and I'm not in a horrible place, just a few up from my happy zone. I guess I can't have a 20-something's body forever. There, I said it. I've been working so hard on my health and body, and yes - vanity does fuel part of my drive. But, I have a birthday coming up in a week and, as much as I hate it when I hear it, I do look pretty ok "for my age". Of course, I need to cover those pesky greys and we just had our bathroom remodeled. Why, when we're broke?
Flashback to "death kitchen". I had our kitchen totally demolished and rebuilt, custom cabinets, ridiculous gorgeous tiles, the works. Even a wall knocked down and a half wall built as a breakfast type bar. Or, a bar type bar. It handles both positions equally well. Actually, we don't eat breakfast, so bar bar wins. Cheers!
This is "death bathroom". Our place is nice, but they sure didn't think about style or function with these essential rooms. If you recall, if I posted, I had always wanted a dishwasher. Got it. I also have always wanted frosted glass shower doors. I hate the curtain thing. Hate it. Hate. It. Got it. Again custom cabinets (matches the kitchen!), gorgeous marble counter, fancy dual-flush toilet, slightly deeper tub (had to do a dance to approve via co-op, apparently), big tiles up to the ceiling, a splash wall of yellow tiles, and voila. Death Bathroom. Honestly? We can't afford it. Another moment of honesty - I don't give a crap. Well, actually I do, since that's one function of said room.
Ok, off to the gym now. I'm not sure how much I can accomplish, but I'm bringing a book so that I can park my butt on a bike at the end of my rope (physical or mental pooping out) and burn a few more. I do enjoy the sweat now - started getting workout clothes that encourage sweat. They work! I used to never really sweat much in the gym, but this is really good for my lymph and circulation in general. Ironically, they're slightly thick, so I look bigger than I am, but I'm not out to impress anyone at the gym. I'm out to make my life as good as I can. Who knew that sweat would help? (and yes, I do sweat in real life, but the gym? They're too cold, in general! Hubs always sweats, but that could be a boy thing). Until next time... hopefully sooner than December! ;)
Monday, May 30, 2016
News Flash! I mean, Hot Flash!
Jeez. I know I'm not great with updates recently, but with this epic hot flash on a cool Sunday morning, 3 fans focused directly on my misery, all I can do is try and not pass out. Hence, I type.
This is still early for menopause, of course, but with the Tamoxifen Games, my hormones hate me. These flashes have been sneaking in and out. My period goes from every two weeks to a panicky 8 weeks.
It was hot as heck yesterday and the day before, but today? Nice and cool. Thank goodness this flash hit me in this. Nausea, profuse cold sweat, panic, wanting to peel my skin off like an amphibian. I'm sitting here in the kitchen, while hubby sleeps, in my undies with fans focused. I can't really take much more off, so I sit and wait as my entire body gives my spirit the middle finger.
I'm going to have to start carrying around my Hot Girls Pearls bracelet for real.
When I was on the Toxicphen, my most major flashes happened in winter - I'd be walking around in the snow, stripped down to a tank top. Now? Egads. Between the flashes and lymphedema, I'm going to dislike my favorite season... a lot.
Anyway, went to my oncologist last Friday - 6 months late for a checkup. Why? I'm tired of docs. I saw all the others - GP, OB/GYN, dentist, blahblahblah. Had some work done on my tamoxified teeth. Everything else ok, blood a bit wacky but we're adjusting my supplementation and are going to recheck in a bit. But oncology? UGH. Anyway, though we hate the hospital, our doc is cool. He knows we hate it. He booked my appointment himself. He spent extra time, as he always does. We like each other. He said, as always, I look great. It's cool, I'm taking extra good care of myself. Neurotic about working out and eating well. If I look at a photo of cake, I gain. It's a combo, in my opinion, of the tamoxifen screwing so badly with my hormones, and possibly aging. But my metabolism took a serious nosedive. Luckily, I have major OCD and have been too stubborn to let it go for too long. I've decided that I want to die totally hot. Life goals? Death goals? Eh. It's just a funny thought that when I'm cremated, I want to have a 6 pack. Hopefully that'll be less time in the cooker, and perhaps a little discount in the process. ;)
Ah. These fans are keeping my nausea in check. I was about to dress and go to the gym, but I'd hate to have a hot flash there. Between the smells of smelly gym people, the looks of curiosity, the "are you ok" BS, and the fact that I don't want to know 97% of the people there, I'll wait it out.
This is still early for menopause, of course, but with the Tamoxifen Games, my hormones hate me. These flashes have been sneaking in and out. My period goes from every two weeks to a panicky 8 weeks.
It was hot as heck yesterday and the day before, but today? Nice and cool. Thank goodness this flash hit me in this. Nausea, profuse cold sweat, panic, wanting to peel my skin off like an amphibian. I'm sitting here in the kitchen, while hubby sleeps, in my undies with fans focused. I can't really take much more off, so I sit and wait as my entire body gives my spirit the middle finger.
I'm going to have to start carrying around my Hot Girls Pearls bracelet for real.
When I was on the Toxicphen, my most major flashes happened in winter - I'd be walking around in the snow, stripped down to a tank top. Now? Egads. Between the flashes and lymphedema, I'm going to dislike my favorite season... a lot.
Anyway, went to my oncologist last Friday - 6 months late for a checkup. Why? I'm tired of docs. I saw all the others - GP, OB/GYN, dentist, blahblahblah. Had some work done on my tamoxified teeth. Everything else ok, blood a bit wacky but we're adjusting my supplementation and are going to recheck in a bit. But oncology? UGH. Anyway, though we hate the hospital, our doc is cool. He knows we hate it. He booked my appointment himself. He spent extra time, as he always does. We like each other. He said, as always, I look great. It's cool, I'm taking extra good care of myself. Neurotic about working out and eating well. If I look at a photo of cake, I gain. It's a combo, in my opinion, of the tamoxifen screwing so badly with my hormones, and possibly aging. But my metabolism took a serious nosedive. Luckily, I have major OCD and have been too stubborn to let it go for too long. I've decided that I want to die totally hot. Life goals? Death goals? Eh. It's just a funny thought that when I'm cremated, I want to have a 6 pack. Hopefully that'll be less time in the cooker, and perhaps a little discount in the process. ;)
Ah. These fans are keeping my nausea in check. I was about to dress and go to the gym, but I'd hate to have a hot flash there. Between the smells of smelly gym people, the looks of curiosity, the "are you ok" BS, and the fact that I don't want to know 97% of the people there, I'll wait it out.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
I'd love to spend Mother's Day with my mother, but cancer stole her from me, 26 years ago.
Days like today are bittersweet. I can't walk around without seeing families taking mothers out, she in her "coolest" dress, holding dying flowers, children and husband slightly uncomfortable in their Sunday Finery, wishing that they could just hang out in sweats and eat microwaved popcorn in front of the TV. While they facebook on their phones.
Ah, Mother's Day.
I remember when I had a mom. It was a long time ago. She was the one person on the planet that I could look to when everyone else hurt me.
Honestly, Death, I could have given you a long list of folks that you could have taken away instead of her. A bunch of motherf*ckers who just needed to go. Not her.
At least I was on my own when she passed. I think she tried to wait as long as she could, to make sure I was far away enough. So I could try and stop that pain cycle.
Well, it's 26 years later. Amazingly, a lot of those folks no longer affect me from afar. Perhaps because I've physically removed myself from their realm, but it took a long way to remove myself mentally. There are days... trust me. Usually set off by a familiar looking stranger, or an action seen, or a voice - but I've gotten pretty good at turning a blind heart that way. Why? Well, what good would it be to send hate to a stranger that only reminds me of a bad space? That person can't help how they look or sound or act, even in the most douchebaggy of ways. At least, not at the moment it happens in my radar.
Yeah. Who actually enjoys these days? Sure, it's nice to acknowledge folks. But, it's harsh to pressure society like this. I like the Japanese holidays - children's, women's, men's, aged, etc... I mean, women who have lost their moms, who had abusive moms, who are moms to criminals and addicts, women who can't become moms, no matter what hocus pocus or medical miracles they've tried... so, a LOT of people take this day to say, "Hey! Society tells me I'm an asshole/loser/failure today! I'll go out and drink until I'm blind! Yay, me!!!"
I know of very few functional families. Mostly, what I see in my friends and acquaintances, is that we all are imperfect. WHAT???
Yup. All of us. And we don't need no stinkin' holiday to remind us. I think I'll take the American holiday calendar and edit for our home. I'm fairly certain that a lot of Japanese holidays shall be celebrated. This can only mean one thing - MORE POCKY!!!
Ah, Mother's Day.
I remember when I had a mom. It was a long time ago. She was the one person on the planet that I could look to when everyone else hurt me.
Honestly, Death, I could have given you a long list of folks that you could have taken away instead of her. A bunch of motherf*ckers who just needed to go. Not her.
At least I was on my own when she passed. I think she tried to wait as long as she could, to make sure I was far away enough. So I could try and stop that pain cycle.
Well, it's 26 years later. Amazingly, a lot of those folks no longer affect me from afar. Perhaps because I've physically removed myself from their realm, but it took a long way to remove myself mentally. There are days... trust me. Usually set off by a familiar looking stranger, or an action seen, or a voice - but I've gotten pretty good at turning a blind heart that way. Why? Well, what good would it be to send hate to a stranger that only reminds me of a bad space? That person can't help how they look or sound or act, even in the most douchebaggy of ways. At least, not at the moment it happens in my radar.
Yeah. Who actually enjoys these days? Sure, it's nice to acknowledge folks. But, it's harsh to pressure society like this. I like the Japanese holidays - children's, women's, men's, aged, etc... I mean, women who have lost their moms, who had abusive moms, who are moms to criminals and addicts, women who can't become moms, no matter what hocus pocus or medical miracles they've tried... so, a LOT of people take this day to say, "Hey! Society tells me I'm an asshole/loser/failure today! I'll go out and drink until I'm blind! Yay, me!!!"
I know of very few functional families. Mostly, what I see in my friends and acquaintances, is that we all are imperfect. WHAT???
Yup. All of us. And we don't need no stinkin' holiday to remind us. I think I'll take the American holiday calendar and edit for our home. I'm fairly certain that a lot of Japanese holidays shall be celebrated. This can only mean one thing - MORE POCKY!!!
Sunday, April 3, 2016
The Big Freaking Sleeve
I started physical therapy after "winning" my fight with insurance. They seemed to think that I should go to a different state for treatment - a 2 hour train ride (with a cab, likely around $50 minimum for the trip, plus my $50 co-pay). So, basically, living in NYC - a virtual haven of everything you ever need and don't need, I was being shipped out to try and achieve the impossible. For my medical condition, caused by my other medical condition's treatment.
I am grateful for the therapy. I don't think it's the best I could get here in town. But, the hospital and therapist are ok. There is a therapist who specializes in JUST breast cancer related lymphedema. She charges under $300 per session. I got my first bill for the hospital sessions, and each one is over $2000. My copay is still $50. Now, why in the hell wouldn't the insurance company send me to a specialist who is out of network, send her the $250 and make me pay the other $50? It don't make no sense.
So, because I'm a research fanatic, I probably know more about my condition than she does. But, because I'm thorough and don't take answers as gospel, it's going well.
I got a vibration plate. Sounds sexy, no? No. Unless you feel totally hot when every ounce of fat, loose skin, and your very soul shake at an alarming rate. However, I love it. It feels great all over - weird, but great. I sometimes watch Netflix on it. I sometimes exercise (obliques and squats) on it. I sometimes just think. But, that's rare. Anyway, if you have lymphedema, or not, it's a good thing. Hubby likes it for his back and tight hip. Daughter likes it (on low) when she stands upon it, holding our crazy cats. Purrrrrrr...
I also got a custom Juxta Fit sleeve and glove, to wear at night. Egads. But, it actually is amazing. I am grateful, even though my stupid insurance has a $2000 deductible on equipment. Farging Bastages. It's almost like I have no insurance at all. Guess we'll be foraging for dinner in the clearance bins for a bit.
Bah.
I was really sick for a bit there, and give the credit to my post-cancer immune system. I'm going to have to put a new pre-cancer immunity on my Christmas list. But, I'm still one of the lucky ones. I'm still here and able to work and smile and wear sexy compression gear. Though, I'm forever grateful for my LympheDivas. At least my stupid arm can look cool, even when it doesn't feel cool!
I am grateful for the therapy. I don't think it's the best I could get here in town. But, the hospital and therapist are ok. There is a therapist who specializes in JUST breast cancer related lymphedema. She charges under $300 per session. I got my first bill for the hospital sessions, and each one is over $2000. My copay is still $50. Now, why in the hell wouldn't the insurance company send me to a specialist who is out of network, send her the $250 and make me pay the other $50? It don't make no sense.
So, because I'm a research fanatic, I probably know more about my condition than she does. But, because I'm thorough and don't take answers as gospel, it's going well.
I got a vibration plate. Sounds sexy, no? No. Unless you feel totally hot when every ounce of fat, loose skin, and your very soul shake at an alarming rate. However, I love it. It feels great all over - weird, but great. I sometimes watch Netflix on it. I sometimes exercise (obliques and squats) on it. I sometimes just think. But, that's rare. Anyway, if you have lymphedema, or not, it's a good thing. Hubby likes it for his back and tight hip. Daughter likes it (on low) when she stands upon it, holding our crazy cats. Purrrrrrr...
I also got a custom Juxta Fit sleeve and glove, to wear at night. Egads. But, it actually is amazing. I am grateful, even though my stupid insurance has a $2000 deductible on equipment. Farging Bastages. It's almost like I have no insurance at all. Guess we'll be foraging for dinner in the clearance bins for a bit.
Bah.
I was really sick for a bit there, and give the credit to my post-cancer immune system. I'm going to have to put a new pre-cancer immunity on my Christmas list. But, I'm still one of the lucky ones. I'm still here and able to work and smile and wear sexy compression gear. Though, I'm forever grateful for my LympheDivas. At least my stupid arm can look cool, even when it doesn't feel cool!
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