for summer to be over and George to start kindergarden and also my radiation to be over at nearly the same time; just 12 treatments left for me. The anticipation for both of these changes is dissipating....on the Tuesday after Labor Day George will go to his new school and though I am still full of bittersweet feelings, it is going to happen and I feel ready for it. New rhythms will be created in our lives, walking him to school and getting to know his new teacher to start with, and we'll each, George and I, have to reconfigure the dance of our relationship.
And this end of my formal treatment, I am really ready for that, too; I feel like I'm done with it now, frankly, even though I still have my morning ritual of running out the door at 7:20AM with my coffee mug in hand to head to Fox Chase.
I'm done in that I can sense the ways that I've changed in the last six months; I can feel what it is to have come out of being a thirty-seven-year old woman, mother of two young children, diagnosed with breast cancer. I can feel what it means to survive. I can tell you that the smells and tastes of summer
really have been much sweeter and deeper. I can tell you that I forgive others and myself much more easily. I can tell you that I decluttered my office at work, throwing out papers I had held onto for six years but had never looked it because I could say to myself
I really don't need this.
I can tell you that I feel like my soul has landed more completely in my body and I can tell you that may not have happened just now if I hadn't brushed so closely against my own death--
by that I mean
looked it in the face.
And by looking at my death in the face I mean being scared shitless
and also kind of not being scared shitless, kind of being okay.
And being okay,knowing that I am really here, now, present,
alive, surviving, resilient, courageous, vulnerable, forgiving
that is what I mean by smells are sharper and sounds are clearer and cares are less.
It's finally almost here when my regular cancer treatment at Fox Chase will be over
and I can go back to being
a mom like the other moms taking their children to kindergarden and preschool
and I know too
that what I am feeling now
the intense, vivid, sensual appreciation of the world inside and around me
may dull and fade in time
and that that will be okay.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
I've slogged my way throgh 1/2 of my radiation treatments
It's been a f--ing hot week here
That's all I have to say just now
Really
Love to all
That's all I have to say just now
Really
Love to all
Saturday, August 8, 2009
1 week of radiation down,
5 weeks to go. I've never been more thankful that I live so close to Fox Chase. My appointment is for 7:30AM. I leave the house at 7:20AM, arrive, park, take the elevator to the first floor, change into my gown, put my bag and clothes in a locker, sit in the waiting room, pick up a magazine, find an article I want to read, get called back before reading it, get zapped for 8 minutes, go back and get dressed, this time rubbing aloe vera onto my skin, take the elevator back upstairs, walk to my car, drive back home and arrive at 8AM so I can finish getting the kids ready for camp. Not bad! The routine has even motivated me to get school bags and lunches packed the night before which makes for a much easier morning.
No side effects to report. 5 weeks to go. I am feeling well.
***
I've been walking a few mornings a week, when I can fit it in, plus getting back to lifting weights which I alternate with yoga (20 minutes of either one most days). It's not a hard core workout by any means but I am feeling the difference. Exercise is such a clear antidote for stress, both in the endorphins that get released in my body and also in the way that moving my body takes me away from the racing thoughts in my mind and grounds me into my body, into the now.
I wish that I had been doing this all along, over the past few years, but the truth is, like most moms of young children who are also working outside of the home, most of my time was spent keeping the balls of everyone's needs at home and at work juggling in the air. The juggling was nonstop and if I got a moment to put a ball or two down and take time for myself, I preferred taking a coffee break or sitting on my ass and watching TV.
The walking/yoga/weights is part of my big paradigm shift that has come about since getting the breast cancer diagnosis, which forced me to stop juggling and just watch the balls fall crashing to the earth.
If it was as simple as "make time for yourself," all moms of young children would figure out a graceful way to do that. My experience is that I've needed to explore deeper layers of what has stopped me from living a life of optimal wellness. I've needed to unclutter my emotions the same way I need to unclutter my house and unclutter my time.
I know that I was on a path of doing this before the diagnosis; I've been striving for balance and wellness for some time. But the urgency of my diagnosis forced me onto a steep learning curve that I've happily embraced.
Not that I wake up to a life of zen, clean balance; not at all. I wake up to June whining about me not washing her favorite bathing suit and George rejecting the gluten free muffins that he absolutely loved two weeks ago and dirty dishes in the sink and a shitload of things to accomplish at work. Nothing external has shifted. But my perception of it, my reaction to it, my awareness of what triggers my stress, my ability to breath through it, my focus on the big picture
has transformed my life into a much happier, healthier one, even if my zen garden is deeply buried under layers of Disney Princess and Spiderman shit.
***
5 weeks of radiation to go and 5 weeks until George starts kindergarden and I can't help but thinking about how this new chapter of my life is intersecting with this new chapter of his. His going to kindergarden frees my time and energy in a way that will allow for me to focus differently on my new awareness of wellness.
I am so happy that we found a great kindergarden class for him at the public school and that we will walk just 1/2 block each morning to get there. I am so happy about all of the progress he's made in preschool and with the RDI cognitive therapy that we are doing at home.
But I get really teary when I think too much about him going to kindergarden. As much as I know the space and separation is neccessary for both of us to grow, I guess I am not quite ready to let go of my baby. Even though he's gone to preschool for full days of mornings and afternoons, this coming separation still feels hard. The acknowledgement of time passing, of him being ready to enter that big elementary school; I'm struggling with it.
Maybe there is still some goodbye that I need to say to the baby that he was. That baby that I can still see, smell and feel so vividly from his first ten days of life in the NICU to the miraculous day when we brought him home. Maybe there is some goodbye that I need to say to the busy toddler, to the three-year-old who struggled to acquire language. Maybe there is a goodbye I am holding back for the four and five-year-old boy who spent hours with me, learning skills like cutting and dressing and playing catch with a ball that other children just acquire naturally.
Maybe I need to hold those parts of George in a deep place in my heart so that I can make room for the six-year-old boy that he has become, ready for this new challenge, sunny, tall and strong. When he goes to school, I can walk down the block and watch him on the playground at recess, I will be able to walk by and look into his classroom. I know I will be able to do those things, but I will try to not.
No side effects to report. 5 weeks to go. I am feeling well.
***
I've been walking a few mornings a week, when I can fit it in, plus getting back to lifting weights which I alternate with yoga (20 minutes of either one most days). It's not a hard core workout by any means but I am feeling the difference. Exercise is such a clear antidote for stress, both in the endorphins that get released in my body and also in the way that moving my body takes me away from the racing thoughts in my mind and grounds me into my body, into the now.
I wish that I had been doing this all along, over the past few years, but the truth is, like most moms of young children who are also working outside of the home, most of my time was spent keeping the balls of everyone's needs at home and at work juggling in the air. The juggling was nonstop and if I got a moment to put a ball or two down and take time for myself, I preferred taking a coffee break or sitting on my ass and watching TV.
The walking/yoga/weights is part of my big paradigm shift that has come about since getting the breast cancer diagnosis, which forced me to stop juggling and just watch the balls fall crashing to the earth.
If it was as simple as "make time for yourself," all moms of young children would figure out a graceful way to do that. My experience is that I've needed to explore deeper layers of what has stopped me from living a life of optimal wellness. I've needed to unclutter my emotions the same way I need to unclutter my house and unclutter my time.
I know that I was on a path of doing this before the diagnosis; I've been striving for balance and wellness for some time. But the urgency of my diagnosis forced me onto a steep learning curve that I've happily embraced.
Not that I wake up to a life of zen, clean balance; not at all. I wake up to June whining about me not washing her favorite bathing suit and George rejecting the gluten free muffins that he absolutely loved two weeks ago and dirty dishes in the sink and a shitload of things to accomplish at work. Nothing external has shifted. But my perception of it, my reaction to it, my awareness of what triggers my stress, my ability to breath through it, my focus on the big picture
has transformed my life into a much happier, healthier one, even if my zen garden is deeply buried under layers of Disney Princess and Spiderman shit.
***
5 weeks of radiation to go and 5 weeks until George starts kindergarden and I can't help but thinking about how this new chapter of my life is intersecting with this new chapter of his. His going to kindergarden frees my time and energy in a way that will allow for me to focus differently on my new awareness of wellness.
I am so happy that we found a great kindergarden class for him at the public school and that we will walk just 1/2 block each morning to get there. I am so happy about all of the progress he's made in preschool and with the RDI cognitive therapy that we are doing at home.
But I get really teary when I think too much about him going to kindergarden. As much as I know the space and separation is neccessary for both of us to grow, I guess I am not quite ready to let go of my baby. Even though he's gone to preschool for full days of mornings and afternoons, this coming separation still feels hard. The acknowledgement of time passing, of him being ready to enter that big elementary school; I'm struggling with it.
Maybe there is still some goodbye that I need to say to the baby that he was. That baby that I can still see, smell and feel so vividly from his first ten days of life in the NICU to the miraculous day when we brought him home. Maybe there is some goodbye that I need to say to the busy toddler, to the three-year-old who struggled to acquire language. Maybe there is a goodbye I am holding back for the four and five-year-old boy who spent hours with me, learning skills like cutting and dressing and playing catch with a ball that other children just acquire naturally.
Maybe I need to hold those parts of George in a deep place in my heart so that I can make room for the six-year-old boy that he has become, ready for this new challenge, sunny, tall and strong. When he goes to school, I can walk down the block and watch him on the playground at recess, I will be able to walk by and look into his classroom. I know I will be able to do those things, but I will try to not.
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