Kicking off my Everyday Matters adventure with Watercolor Sunday: SPRINKLES!
Hello again, reader.
My husband fixed the netbook! So now I can blog again.
So, what's new?
Cancer update:
°Another surgery. Scan on the 17th November, meeting with surgeon on 24 November to set surgery date.
°Another radioactive iodine treatment probably in March 2010.
°Levothyrox dose is still too high, but I get to take a lower dose Friday through Sunday.
Novel Update:
°Working on characters and their backgrounds. Oddly, the plot is forming more solidly through this process
°I am not doing NaNoWriMo. I have metastatic thyroid cancer and am training a dog with serious abandonment issues.
Dog? Dog? What dog?
Rather than adopt a greyhound (we were having a hell of a time getting associations to respond to us, most still haven't at all), we went through an adoption association in the Ile-de-France region. We were surfing adoption sites when I saw Perla, a three year-old Mini Pinscher who was abandoned in La Réunion. The S.P.A. there figured she'd have a better chance of being adopted in France. I fell for her immediately and we started the process.
She is a sweet girl as long as she's not alone. Once alone, she has panic attacks brought on by separation anxiety. We're working on that. Doing clicker training, which is a blast. Fun way to teach, to learn and to bond. She has sit inside the house down perfectly. We're working on outside the door and in the elevator. I can't blame her for not wanting to stick her bare butt on the cold, wet ground outside. Next up, place. Very important. Her favourite things are cuddling on the couch with me for hours, breakfast, dinner and her Kong toy. It's the only toy she understands how to play with. The others are a mystery to her. She loves to go on walks so much, that I have lost another 4 pounds since we got her. The other day we found one of Chester's stray hairs on her forehead. We chose to see this as a sign of approval from the beyond. I think he really would have liked her. They would have been great nap buddies. As hard as the separation anxiety can be, we're going to work through it. She'll learn that we won't abandon her. The vet is trying to help by giving us a pheromone difuser and some doggie downers. I have contacted the adoption association for advice, tricks they used to have her stay calm when she moved in with them. No response at all. I find that odd because they made so much noise about us staying in touch and blah, blah, blah. We ask for any help and they vanish. Very weird. We'll look into crate training as well. The Kong does not seem to be enough to overcome our absence. We'll get there.
I think that is all the news I have for now.
No functioning computer at home means no posting. Trying to do a quickie posting at work on my lunch break.
Quick update: I had my second biopsy on 1 October after the second ultrasound showed more suspect lymph nodes. I will have the results on 15 October. I feel that I am doing a fairly decent job of staying positive and not letting cancer define me, even though I have been living with it for 18 years. Trying to control my anger at doctors past and present who didn't and don't take my case seriously enough to really help me. That said, there were a few who were awesome. Mad props to them.
I am looking forward to what I can do when this is all over and what I can do now to make it more bearable.
Near and slightly less near future plans:
*Iyengar yoga class
*Start sewing my own clothes with awesome new sewing machine
*Start working on my second novel
*More walking
*Less stressing
*Learn and get PHP certification
*Make some bagels
*Rescue a greyhound
It is almost impossible to get anything called a bagel in Paris that actually tastes like and has the mouthfeel of a bagel. It is bagel-shaped bread usually and one makes this painful realisation upon the first bite. The heart sinks and, somehow, you push yourself through eating it because you bought the damn thing.
I have a dream. I want to bring real bagels to Paris. And this fall, once my surgery or treatment is over, the test kitchen begins.
My dream usually involves winning the lottery, but I am serious. I will start a test kitchen, I will research how to start a business in France (because I just haven't had enough bureaucracy yet). In my dream, the first shop is in rue des Martyrs because I love that street, three of my friends live on it or nearby-ish, and it's a good food street. It's also close to two synagogues. Once a Parisian has had a real bagel, they'll never go back. I know it! Eventually, I suppose that I'd open one within walking distance of the Sorbonne. It's just a smart business move.
Looking for inspiration on Amazon, like books from the founders of Einstein Bros/Noah's, I saw this. Just another reminder to be thankful I no longer live in the US, especially in the SOUTH. There's a book about the making of Lender's Bagels, which, you know, feh. There's an MBA business plan thing, which might be helpful. Eventually, I might branch out into making tortillas and breakfast tacos, too. I want to call it Tchatchke's Bagels. Simple, funny in both languages, but for different reasons. Not looking to make a franchise-y chain thing. I just want a couple of stores, preferrably with seating, but probably not at first given the price per square meter. I will advertise in FUSAC and other expat papers. I'd have all the classic flavours, including the EVERYTHING. And I won't shy away from some sweet flavours for the kids, but NO food colouring. I would find an importer for cream cheese (probably the same guy Thanksgiving uses). I would offer drinks, maybe even smoothies. I'd even sell cheesecake, which I can't even eat! All the more fo my customers! I don't know. BIG AMBITIOUS SILLY dream that may not amount to anything. But what the hell? At least we'll have some good bagels to eat this winter, if nothing else.
I don't think US bagel chains would do well in Paris. Starbucks is
struggling with profitability here, mostly because of rent, but also
because they rely heavily on tourists (no matter what they say) and there just aren't as many tourists in Paris. Most
French people cannot afford to drink there on a regular basis because
pay is too low here. I was so happy to see a Jamba Juice-ish type place
open up in a few locations, but they aren't doing well either. Prices
again. They are setting up in touristy areas where rents are
astronomical, their prices reflect that. Also, French people are not as health conscious (obsessed?) as Americans. I have a hard time imagining an average French person here willing to ingest anything with spirulina in it. You'd have to wait for an editor at Elle or Marie Claire to do a little piece on it. And even then. I think bagels would work well in that they are a type of bread and the Atkins diet never caught on here. However, I'd want to start in a neighbourhood. Not as some bloated
US chain concept stomping on independent businesses in Paris. That is really not welcome, especially in baking circles. A smoothie is a new, quaint thing here, but baking has a serious cultural heritage. I want to
be a peer. I want to get to know the faces and names and preferences of customers. I want to see the eyes light up at the first bite. I want to stamp the customer loyalty cards. It's a good thing I'm an early riser.
My last post was a perfect example of how most suffering is caused by wanting things to be different than they are. I rescind nothing. It hurts like hell that some people won't take the time to check in (including through Facebook or Twitter) or even respond to an e-mail. I do feel isolated. And some sick people actively need contact to stay strong. I acknowledge that and I am not running away from it. However, by dwelling, I am wilfully increasing my own suffering, which helps no one least of all me. This is how things are right now and I cannot pretend that I have always been a top Grade A friend. Everything changes. Maybe these people will write or call. Not holding my breath. Just a reminder. Things change. There are probably lots of reasons why they aren't, like I said in the other post. Maybe their lives are crappy, too, and I need to stop whining and check in with them once I have the energy. But I'm really too sick to come up with excuses for other people right now. Some will just never think to contact me or reply. Their loss. Not falling into an idiot compassion trap. Some of these 'friends' do not deserve that title and haven't for some time. I was foolishly expecting different behavior and got more of the same. No blame, no guilt, it's just how things are. The sooner I can accept that and let some of these people leave my mind, a lot of the hurt will pass away.
Another cancer post, since that's all my life seems to be about at the moment.
You know what sucks the most about a long-term cancer treatment other than the physical stress and pain and the constant psychological strain? It's how some people close to you just get so blasé about it or even forget that you are going through a big, painful ordeal. Some even have the balls to get upset if they haven't heard from you in awhile.
I have already posted about this behaviour, so forgive me for repeating myself. And if this post pisses some people off, too bad. If you're pissed off, it's probably guilt, which doesn't help anything or anyone except the Catholic Church and Jewish mothers.
In my set of behavioural codes, which really aren't that bizarre, the onus is on the HEALTHY party to contact the UNHEALTHY party most of the time. The unhealthy party is really too busy dealing with side effects and exhaustion and emotional melt downs. Some days are ok, but most days are REALLY, REALLY bad -- so bad, that you just can't muster the energy to write to every single person you know and ask how their day went. I know we're all grown-ups and have busy, busy lives. However, if you care about someone who also happens to be ill, you make an effort. Well, I do. Even with cancer, I try my best to stay in contact not only with sick friends, but with everyone. After awhile, though, you realise that you're doing all the work in the friendship and, even though the other party must know how tired you are and what a struggle it is, they do nothing to help keep the little friendship boat from going over the waterfall to its doom. Are these people really friends? A question to examine.
I am lonely. I don't need constant attention, but a phone call, an email more than once every three months (if that) would be nice. I know that a lot of people don't like to hear about cancer and its treatment. I do not harp on about it. What I need is contact, to feel that I haven't been forgotten, and to talk about NORMAL things and hear other people's stories. Why would I want to blather on about cancer when it is what I am living through every fucking second of the day? Besides, I have found great support online for the cancer. I need non-cancer contact, just friends chatting to friends. It helps relieve the psychological strain of having cancer, it's like an oasis, a temporary mental vacation from the sturm und drang. I feel like a pariah and, frankly, like quite a few people I know do not care about me at all. Maybe that's unfair. But that's what it feels like. How long does it take to write an email? Especially if it's just a sentence long? Why should anyone have to remind close friends to check in on more than a seasonal basis? That's just sad.
Dear So-and-so,
I'm not dead yet!
xoxo,
Your Cancer Pal
I already went through this as a teenager with my first cancer. But I wrote many friends a blank check because we were teenagers. Cancer is not a normal thing for teenagers to have. Why would any 16 year-old know how to deal with their friend's cancer? Now I'm 32 and many people I know are my age and older. They should be more mature, less self-centred and, sadly, more experienced with major illnesses. Maybe it's time I got all high school and started categorising my friends: those who give a shit and those who do not. Ridiculous.
This email does not apply to everyone I know, but there are a few people who just don't understand how friendship works. Maybe they're highly functional autistics, maybe their lives have gone to shreds, too, and I should stop being a baby and email them right now. But you know, this is something I've noticed. My friends who are going through heavy shit, too, are the ones who interact with me the most. Why is it so hard for some perfectly healthy people to find a couple of minutes in their day to contact an ailing friend? Is it because they really don't know the difference it would make? Just write and vent about work or laugh about something funny that happened. Share a link. Dedicate a song. It doesn't take much and it can turn a sick person's day around.
To those who say, 'I don't want to bother my sick friend with my day-to-day dramas', please do not use that as an excuse to cut off contact! Your friend, sick or not, is your friend because they care about you and your life, which is made up of day-to-day dramas. Their illness did not remove that caring. And just think, opening up about your day can provide an escape for a sick friend. Win-win!
I just want anyone who reads this to know just how lonely it can be to have any long-term illness. And how desperately a person in that situation just wants to have some sense of normalcy and needs to feel like they still count. It really helps. Believe it now before you have to experience it for yourself.
Since nothing I do is appreciated at my job, I have decided to stop going in early. Yes, I only went in early to leave early, but at the same time, the office was getting a jump start. More work was being done earlier (which is important where I work) and yet, no one gave a toss least of all my boss.
So I have stopped giving a toss, too.
This morning, I woke up and took my fake thyroid pill as I do every morning. Then I rolled out my yoga mat and did some yummy Iyengar yoga (I'm on week 3 in 'Light on Yoga'). Then I took a yummy shower. Now I am happily writing a blog post. I will have to leave the apartment soon to get to work on time, but that's ok. I had something to look forward to when I woke up this morning.
As you may or may not have noticed, I haven't been blogging at all. There are probably several reasons for this.
The first one is most likely tied to my job. Seven hours a day, five days a week (or more with all the overtime I have been doing), I type abstracts of articles from the French press. The interface is online and looks almost like a blog entry space. I spend so much time doing that that most of my desire to blog is squelched.
The second reason is that not much has been going on. The biggest thing happening is still my cancer, but this is not a cancer blog. I have nothing against cancer blogs as such. If a patient wants to write and share what they are going through and it is helpful to them, then that is good. For them. If other people want to read about it and find a sort of comfort or help within a patient's posts then that's fine. Making a cancer blog is not helpful to me, however. I write the odd cancer post, sure, but devoting so much energy to something I am trying to get rid of seems a little silly for me. I am not in denial. I can't be. Every time I swallow I am reminded. It's just that cancer isn't the main subject of my public life. I am not *just* a patient. I know that most of the people who do cancer blogs aren't just patients either, but to only blog about one's cancer seems so reductive. It's another way to label oneself. Will I be a two-time cancer survivor in the future? Like a two-time Emmy winner who will never be cast in a feature film? It's limiting. We are all so much more than our various illnesses, aches and pains.
That said, I guess this will be a cancer post.
Every morning, I get up and I take a hormone replacement pill. The dose of fake T4 is very high in order to keep my pituitary gland from producing TSH. TSH would tell any remaining natural and cancer-affected thyroid in my body to keep producing. There is no gland, but wherever any natural thyroid hormone may be left in my body, it would receive the message from the TSH to KEEP GOING! We obviously do not want that because that would mean more cancer. I am now synthetic hyperthyroid, however. This means a host of new body issues: irregular heart beat, being out of breath after a few stairs, sometimes a dull but pervasive pain starting in bones and oozing up to my skin, insomnia...anxiety and related physical responses are supposed to be part of that, but, happily, the exhaustion of having a faster heart rate ALL THE TIME takes care of that. I am usually just too tired to be anxious. I will start to have signs of osteoperosis in a few years instead of two decades from now. My joints are usually pretty bitchy. My concentration and memory are a little wacky and my mood is hard to peg. Add to all this the psychological burden of knowing that I will very probably have either a new surgery or another radioiodine treatment in autumn. My endocrinologist says that my markers are normal for someone who still has cancer. Thanks.
I don't play my cancer card much. I trudge. I need a pay check so I do what I have to do like anyone else in similar circumstances. All the same, it is physically difficult for me. My commute would be nothing for a healthy person, but, for me, it is substantial. Especially for the two months that we had no elevator and I had to climb the stairs up to my 8th (9th US) floor abode. I am not telecommuting. I am going in everyday at considerable expense to my body and health. I work hard all day to be professional and not break down crying in front of my co-workers or lash out and tell someone to stop whining when they're in perfect health. I keep working even when I need a rest, mostly so I can leave early. I am making a big effort to be there and do my best, the very LEAST one co-worker in particular could do would be to watch his mouth. I am not in the market for his catty asides and snide commentary. Not your day, he says. I'd like to see him keep it together with as much as I am going through right now. It would be nice if one day he appreciated that, though I have a valid reason to not come in, I am. I don't expect special treatment, just basic respect with a little added thank you for coming in and mostly hitting quota even though I am going through hell at the moment.
But aren't we all?
Actually, I guess I do want a little special treatment. Just for people who work with me to remember that I am not 100% and that I still have cancer. I am not out of the woods. In other words, don't fuck with me. We'll all be better off.
In other news, I am going to see my family in early September and that should be nice. It will be hard because it will probably be the last time that I see my grandmother, but I will enjoy my time with her. It won't be much of a vacation, but oh well...
Still drawing. Going to get some classical guitar books and start with that. No big projects.
He's been gone almost two weeks. We stayed with him right through to the end and, right to the end, he smiled at us. Full of love. Two days before, his body almost gave out on its own. It was time. There was only so much more he could take. To keep him alive would have been selfish and torture for all of us.
But Chester the Wonder Corgi was the soul of our home and things are simply not the same. We still hear him from time to time. We heard him lick the floor when I fried some bacon. I hear him yip sometimes the way he would when he absolutely had to go outside. We've both seen him then done a double take to find he's not there. I have already accidentally sung a jingle to him the way I always changed songs to include his name and the words 'is a baby' or 'is a stinkbutt'. At first, I thought going to sleep was the toughest part, then waking up eclipsed that. Then leaving the house without telling him to be good. Then coming home without seeing him and giving him lovies. Then coming home from work feeling the same happiness and excitement that we'd get to see each other again and realising that no, we wouldn't.
Since the evening we put him down, I just haven't had much desire to do much of anything. Knitting feels odd without him napping at my feet. I did pick up the guitar and played a bit the other day, sang through some of my tunes. At one point, I thought of how much he loved to sit on my feet while I sang. Had to set the guitar back on the rack. I still have my sense of humour. If i didn't...can you imagine? The only thing I can seem to do is draw and paint. I have no goal with it, really. I just do it and it gives me focus and break from the chatter in my head. I draw entries in my sketch journal and watercolors on Sunday. I have some supplies for Sumi-E now and am looking forward to exploring that. Perhaps someone will like it enough, maybe I can start illustrating. For now, it's just helping me deal with the loss of my very dear friend.
Things will slowly normalise and we'll find a way to make this box we live in a home again.
Kicking off my Everyday Matters adventure with Watercolor Sunday: SPRINKLES!