(Original post date: 11/9/09)
This morning when the sun came up, I looked down to see a dark turquoise blue PJ top and purple and lavender plaid PJ bottoms. It’s been worse. Today I looked in the mirror thinking, “Why am I not matching? How does this happen?” I do laundry. I put matching shirts and bottoms together in the closet. At 7 a.m. I’m wearing a brown and white diagonally-striped top and green and white flowered bottoms. The boys rarely match, but I I’ve decided I would rather say, “Hey guys, why don’t you go get your pajamas on!” than dress them. Their pajama choice is potluck and I’m OK with that. They are 3 ½ and 6 years old.
I’m 43, waking up with worse top/bottom combinations than my children. But I’ve worked it out. It’s my middle of the night wake-ups. I get up and fumble around for my PJ bottoms. Creature of comfort trait: I never put them in the same place when I take them off to go to bed. If I can’t feel them lying on the exercise bike or over the end of the bed, I make my way to the closet and get a clean pair out, normally without turning on the light. I’m balding and my pajamas look like they’ve been in a train wreck. What a morning sight. Perhaps I could stick to solids and leave the patterns out of my PJ wardrobe. It would help a little. But that would mean getting rid of these lovely comfy broken-in PJs.
Speaking of morning sights, I got my Fed Ex delivery last Thursday. I opened the door, fully dressed – in case you were wondering – and smiled at the delivery guy, not my normal guy. He returned my smile, kind of. Then it hit me. “Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot to put my wig on!” “Thaaat’s OK!” he said cheerfully, sounding a little like Norm from Cheers. Then I looked again at his slightly embarrassed blue eyes and said, “Actually, we look a lot alike!” He was bald. We could’ve been brother and sister. I’d love to know how he is telling the story.
Staying strong,
Linda
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Warm Peas in a Pod
(Original post date: 11/8/09)
After the hour-long struggle of getting the boys to sleep in their own beds, both were in my bed asleep at 9:30 last night. Will cannot stand the sound of the heating going on. The bang, crash, wallop as the water creaks through the baseboard. He was in tears over the clanking. Every time I went into his room it stopped. “It doesn’t do it when you come in.” Finally, at 9:18, I heard another wail, pure misery. I called out to Will, “Come talk to me.” With that I heard two sets of feet scramble down the wood floor hallway. Will came to my side in tears, “I really can’t take it, Mom.” “Get in,” I said. Will scrambled in from the other side and tucked up next to me. “Yeah, Mom. Ahhh, I’m scared too.” My thought, “Liam Malcolm you are not scared. You are riding on your brother’s coattails. My voice, “Get in.” Liam bolted for the other side and lay down next to his brother. Instant calm. Both of them went to sleep in five minutes, side by side, no poking, no fighting – making me rethink bunk beds and putting the boys in one room to keep each other company. I asked Will about that idea this morning, wondering out loud if it would work. “Of course it would, Mom. We’re brothers; we love each other.” Do they get lessons in pulling heart strings before they become our blessings?
:)
Linda
After the hour-long struggle of getting the boys to sleep in their own beds, both were in my bed asleep at 9:30 last night. Will cannot stand the sound of the heating going on. The bang, crash, wallop as the water creaks through the baseboard. He was in tears over the clanking. Every time I went into his room it stopped. “It doesn’t do it when you come in.” Finally, at 9:18, I heard another wail, pure misery. I called out to Will, “Come talk to me.” With that I heard two sets of feet scramble down the wood floor hallway. Will came to my side in tears, “I really can’t take it, Mom.” “Get in,” I said. Will scrambled in from the other side and tucked up next to me. “Yeah, Mom. Ahhh, I’m scared too.” My thought, “Liam Malcolm you are not scared. You are riding on your brother’s coattails. My voice, “Get in.” Liam bolted for the other side and lay down next to his brother. Instant calm. Both of them went to sleep in five minutes, side by side, no poking, no fighting – making me rethink bunk beds and putting the boys in one room to keep each other company. I asked Will about that idea this morning, wondering out loud if it would work. “Of course it would, Mom. We’re brothers; we love each other.” Do they get lessons in pulling heart strings before they become our blessings?
:)
Linda
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Minor Changes
(Original post date: 11/08/09)
I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep. This chemo process has rewired something inside because I’m not always tired enough during the day to take a nap, except on Days 5 and 6.
Days 4, 5 and 6 after chemo are different. I’m a bit foggy on those days and a bit achy on days 5 & 6. Again, I’m done deciphering “why” and trying to get comfortable with “I am” and going with the flow, with the help of a little Ibuprofen. The slow flow of not doing too much other than sitting with warm corn bags on my shoulders and a cup of tea and perusing catalogs for Christmas ideas. Then boom. That elusive nap happens. I pull on my cap and take a nap.
Then on Day 7 I wake up and feel different. No aches.
I feel full Days 3 through Day 6. I’m going to take Nexium next time round. It’s not a nauseous feeling, proven by the fact that Bill’s tortellini and meatballs smelled so delicious last Sunday night. I just felt like I had no physical space to put food.
Through Day 7, sadly, coffee does not taste good. My strong, dark Sumatran Reserve tastes revolting all the time. I brew a cup of Breakfast Blend or a cup of tea and gently sip at it. Lack-of-caffeine headaches are second on my avoidance list, not far behind nausea.
My Trident mint gum is also revolting. I never thought I would be a watermelon-flavored gum person. But it tastes best. Liam agrees.
My appetite from Day 7 on has grown. My oncologist said it could be attributable to the steroid in those first few days of pills. My body needs a lot of protein. I used to be a granola-bar-on-the-way-out-the-door breakfast eater. Now I have that before taking the boys to school. Then I go home for my new standard: two eggs, meat, cheese and two pieces of toast. Or my latest and greatest: grilled meatloaf and cheese sandwiches. Yes, for breakfast. When my sister visited in October, she made a huge batch of meatloaf and froze it in individual squares. We thought it would make for easy dinners, but it’s been useful for solid breakfasts! I’m eating bigger portions but my jeans are not getting tighter.
(Detour: Within six hours of writing this, sausage is too spicy. One bite sets my mouth and throat alight. Wow. I dug through the garbage yesterday to make sure Peapod didn’t mis-shop and give me extra spicy. No. Regular. Did Jimmy Dean get his packaging mixed up?? I think I’ll not chance it again. Thankfully, if the sensitivity to spiciness continues, I love boiled potatoes with butter. Good old Iowa carbs -- they're grown in bulk in IDAHO but we eat a lot of them in IOWA.)
I’ve discovered a couple friends are up for breakfast some time, occasionally replacing coffee at Starbucks. They are researching breakfast haunts in town. I can’t wait for our first outing. However, I must say, on Day 6, the Starbuck’s Café Mocha was most tolerable.
With these changes, I have a new appreciation for stability. One of my newly respected at-home tasks: laundry. No matter what my body is going through or how it is changing, the mountain of laundry (the castle, as Liam calls it) is the same. The division of the laundry is the same. I murmur in a therapeutic rhythm that matches the toss of each piece, “Dark, dark, towel, jeans, white, Bill’s shirt, jeans, towel, dark, white, towel, towel, Bill’s shirt, towel, towel, towel…” That’s it. No unpredictability there. I know exactly what will be in that mountain before I start sorting.
Yes, a preponderance of towels. With my little germophobe hat on, towels are one-use only then dunked for a spin in hot soapy water. Consequently, when the laundry gets a little backed up, I occasionally have to dry off after a shower with one hand towel and two washcloths. We used to run out of underwear first, now we run out of bathroom linens.
:)
Staying strong and dry – one way or another,
Linda
I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t get back to sleep. This chemo process has rewired something inside because I’m not always tired enough during the day to take a nap, except on Days 5 and 6.
Days 4, 5 and 6 after chemo are different. I’m a bit foggy on those days and a bit achy on days 5 & 6. Again, I’m done deciphering “why” and trying to get comfortable with “I am” and going with the flow, with the help of a little Ibuprofen. The slow flow of not doing too much other than sitting with warm corn bags on my shoulders and a cup of tea and perusing catalogs for Christmas ideas. Then boom. That elusive nap happens. I pull on my cap and take a nap.
Then on Day 7 I wake up and feel different. No aches.
I feel full Days 3 through Day 6. I’m going to take Nexium next time round. It’s not a nauseous feeling, proven by the fact that Bill’s tortellini and meatballs smelled so delicious last Sunday night. I just felt like I had no physical space to put food.
Through Day 7, sadly, coffee does not taste good. My strong, dark Sumatran Reserve tastes revolting all the time. I brew a cup of Breakfast Blend or a cup of tea and gently sip at it. Lack-of-caffeine headaches are second on my avoidance list, not far behind nausea.
My Trident mint gum is also revolting. I never thought I would be a watermelon-flavored gum person. But it tastes best. Liam agrees.
My appetite from Day 7 on has grown. My oncologist said it could be attributable to the steroid in those first few days of pills. My body needs a lot of protein. I used to be a granola-bar-on-the-way-out-the-door breakfast eater. Now I have that before taking the boys to school. Then I go home for my new standard: two eggs, meat, cheese and two pieces of toast. Or my latest and greatest: grilled meatloaf and cheese sandwiches. Yes, for breakfast. When my sister visited in October, she made a huge batch of meatloaf and froze it in individual squares. We thought it would make for easy dinners, but it’s been useful for solid breakfasts! I’m eating bigger portions but my jeans are not getting tighter.
(Detour: Within six hours of writing this, sausage is too spicy. One bite sets my mouth and throat alight. Wow. I dug through the garbage yesterday to make sure Peapod didn’t mis-shop and give me extra spicy. No. Regular. Did Jimmy Dean get his packaging mixed up?? I think I’ll not chance it again. Thankfully, if the sensitivity to spiciness continues, I love boiled potatoes with butter. Good old Iowa carbs -- they're grown in bulk in IDAHO but we eat a lot of them in IOWA.)
I’ve discovered a couple friends are up for breakfast some time, occasionally replacing coffee at Starbucks. They are researching breakfast haunts in town. I can’t wait for our first outing. However, I must say, on Day 6, the Starbuck’s Café Mocha was most tolerable.
With these changes, I have a new appreciation for stability. One of my newly respected at-home tasks: laundry. No matter what my body is going through or how it is changing, the mountain of laundry (the castle, as Liam calls it) is the same. The division of the laundry is the same. I murmur in a therapeutic rhythm that matches the toss of each piece, “Dark, dark, towel, jeans, white, Bill’s shirt, jeans, towel, dark, white, towel, towel, Bill’s shirt, towel, towel, towel…” That’s it. No unpredictability there. I know exactly what will be in that mountain before I start sorting.
Yes, a preponderance of towels. With my little germophobe hat on, towels are one-use only then dunked for a spin in hot soapy water. Consequently, when the laundry gets a little backed up, I occasionally have to dry off after a shower with one hand towel and two washcloths. We used to run out of underwear first, now we run out of bathroom linens.
:)
Staying strong and dry – one way or another,
Linda
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