October has always been one of my favorite months of the year....we are fully into fall, pumpkins, apples, sweaters, tea...mmmm. Comfort and warmth. I just love this time of year. Yet this year, like last, it is covered in a layer of sadness....that twinge of grief that steals your breath as you remember.
Since Cora's and Crosby's birthday late last month, I find myself thinking of what was happening "at this time last year....." pretty often. It is hard not to....I still have trouble accepting the stark contrast between last year and this one. How can so much change? It is like a swift kick to the gut.
I knew these 27 days were going to be tough, and I was right. If they are tough for me, I cannot even fathom what they must be like for Suzanne and KellyBoi. And for Mr. and Mrs.Ely....for Janet and Toby....for Shawn and Kate....for Andy...for Aidan. Sigh.
This morning I received an e-mail entitled "anniversary notice." When I opened it, it was reminding me that in one week it will have been a year since Cora passed. It seems to be generated from the funeral home's website (I signed the guestbook). I have never gotten one before, so perhaps they are being kind -- recognizing the depth of grief experienced by parents losing a child and encouraging their loved ones to rally around them at this hell-aversary (Suzanne's word). That is a nice thought and gesture.
But all I can think is that I didn't need the damn reminder. I know it is coming, I am conscious of it all the time. I surely didn't need it today....the one year anniversay of the day I last held Cora in my arms.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
Dough Boy & his Goddess
What a neglected little blog we have here! Time to rectify that…..let's talk about a torrid love affair, shall we? And by torrid, I mean all talk and no action. Also, no real love - not of the romantic kind, anyway. Let's start at the beginning....
My baby brother, Shaun, a.k.a. Dough Boy, is five years younger than me. We have always been pretty close, and it’s been one of the great joys of my life that we have remained that way. He is one of my most favorite people on the planet……despite what I am about to relay.
You see, Shaun has long had a crush – fully REQUITED!! – on Suzanne. I have no concrete recollection of how or when it started, but one day Shaun and Suzanne were in love and going to get married. “Someday,” they said.
It became a thing. They flirted – shamelessly. They asked about each other – incessantly. They made inappropriate comments to see me squirm. I admit, I laughed a lot. As did they. They LOVED/LOVE to play this up. For two people with only minor interest in the theatre, they are stellar performers. They were (and are) too funny.
Soon, Suzanne became Shaun’s “Goddess,” a title she holds to this day. Not even Suzanne’s marriage could deter their love – Shaun professed devastating heartbreak, but vowed his love could survive this betrayal. Suzanne told him hers would, too. Their "love affair" almost ended forever upon the birth of Rory, however. Shaun said that marriage was one thing, but to have another man’s child? Unforgivable. Yet, she remains his Goddess. When Kyan was born, and we were trying to decide who he looked like - I couldn't stop myself. “Truth be told, he reminds me a lot of Shaun when he was a baby,” I told Suzanne. This made Shaun’s day...week....month...year, of course!
To this day, their love endures, though perhaps in a slightly different form. Shaun has resigned himself to KellyBoy and the children, not that this stops the two of them joking of running away together (Shaun and Suzanne, not Shaun and KellyBoy....disturbing). When I talk to Shaun, there is always a "And how is my Goddess?" often followed by a "Tell her I said....{insert saucy comment here}." And in a Facebook post about an outing with Dough Boy, Suzanne had to chime in, with "Did he bring a date? 'Cause I know someone....." They entertain me always. And don't tell them this, but I love their silly, outlandish, often inappropriate, hilarious repartee. Two of my favorite people on this planet trading quips and cracking us all up? That sure is my idea of a good time.
When Suzanne received her diagnosis, I called my mother and sobbed........ howled....... ranted........ raved....... raged........and when I was somewhat coherent, I shared this awful thought: "Oh no, how am I going to tell Shaun?" Because, despite their theatrics, there is a real affection there, of course. I had a harder time telling him than anyone else, I think. And when I began work on the smile book, Shaun had only one request.....
This picture. It is one of my favorite pictures ever – Suzanne and I were juniors in college; this was Easter of that year. Shaun would have been a sophomore in high school, I think. Notice their arms around each other and their giddy, laughter-filled grins. The wagging finger in the picture? That is me (holding my baby cousin Chelsea, who is about to graduate high school!), giving them what-for over their flirty shenanigans! This picture makes me smile and laugh....it sums them up perfectly.
Dough Boy & Goddess......fake loving since the mid-90s.....how lucky I am they are both part (the nutty part, of course!) of my family.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
foster the people
Five years ago, my husband and I became foster parents. It was a long road - classes, more paperwork than a thesis, more signatures than your mortgage, fingerprints, letters to parents and potential foster children, home visits, panel discussions, role playing, fire and safety checks, and then boom! Our certificate came, and we were ready to go. Of course, it came around the same time as the results of my thyroid biopsy. So, the fostering had to wait.
I learned right away that, sadly, there are always kids out there who need you. No matter how often we said "no" when they called us with placements (surgery, recovery, treatment, isolation, recovery, med adjustments), they still kept calling us. To this day, it hurts my heart to have to say "no" (though actually saying it is easier).
Often the call comes before a child is even in foster care. The possiblity exists, CPS (Child Protective Services) are headed to the home with police and whatever they need, and "if this child comes in, can you take him/her/them?" We had a bunch like that before we had our first actual placement. And, as with any placement, you go into chaos-management overdrive. What do you need to live with a child of this age? What do you have already? What can you borrow? What do you need to go to the store to get? What store? When? Who will do this? Who will do that? It's like a shot of crazy adrenaline!
Me, I make lists. I take copious, fast notes when the homefinder caseworker calls us - jotting down any and every piece of information I am given. I ask questions, jot down my answers. Another paper comes out: what do we need? My mind races.....I am usually at work, so I call my husband and we brainstorm some more. Yet, I know I have not covered all my bases.
So, I call/text/email Suzanne. We often get called with babies, and well, she has babies. She knows! I distinctly recall one time when we were called for a 6 month old girl. Potentially coming in to care that night. We said yes, and the lists began. Well, my list was woefully inadequate - I think I even forgot bottles! Thankfully, Suzanne was there for me....we went over my list, and she added the missing pieces. Plus, she did not make fun of me for being such a dumb ass. She is good people. (Oh, and the 6 month old girl did not end up coming into foster care. I still say a prayer that she is okay. She is probably 6 now.)
Thanks to Suzanne, I am better prepared these days. We have a "foster baby" box under a bed. It contains some necessities: bottles, liners, regular bottles, spoons, baby monitor, blankets, bibs, burp cloths, etc. We have a pack-and-play, which is the perfect bed for a little one who drops into your life unexpectedly! But, I still ask for validation, for reassurance, for the missing pieces of my list. And she is there to fill in what I have missed, to ask me what I need, to reassure, to help.
We took in a baby boy almost a month ago now. We were in pretty good shape for him (see above paragraph), but we needed a high chair. Knowing Crosby needed his, I didn't call/text/email Suzanne. I put a quick update on Facebook: "We have a little one staying with us for a few days, and we need a high chair. Does anyone have one we could have/borrow?" Who do you think responded first? Whose high chair do you think is now attached to my table? Of course, Suzanne's. Crosby uses the standing high chair, they also have a table-attaching one. "Take it, Crosby's not big enough for it yet."
I'm not sure I can be a foster parent without Suzanne. She's my lifeline, my Google, my baby whisperer, my brain, my person. It is reason #995,674,357,190,872,109,724 why she is going to beat this thing. The foster children need her! Well, at least the ones who live in my house do.
I learned right away that, sadly, there are always kids out there who need you. No matter how often we said "no" when they called us with placements (surgery, recovery, treatment, isolation, recovery, med adjustments), they still kept calling us. To this day, it hurts my heart to have to say "no" (though actually saying it is easier).
Often the call comes before a child is even in foster care. The possiblity exists, CPS (Child Protective Services) are headed to the home with police and whatever they need, and "if this child comes in, can you take him/her/them?" We had a bunch like that before we had our first actual placement. And, as with any placement, you go into chaos-management overdrive. What do you need to live with a child of this age? What do you have already? What can you borrow? What do you need to go to the store to get? What store? When? Who will do this? Who will do that? It's like a shot of crazy adrenaline!
Me, I make lists. I take copious, fast notes when the homefinder caseworker calls us - jotting down any and every piece of information I am given. I ask questions, jot down my answers. Another paper comes out: what do we need? My mind races.....I am usually at work, so I call my husband and we brainstorm some more. Yet, I know I have not covered all my bases.
So, I call/text/email Suzanne. We often get called with babies, and well, she has babies. She knows! I distinctly recall one time when we were called for a 6 month old girl. Potentially coming in to care that night. We said yes, and the lists began. Well, my list was woefully inadequate - I think I even forgot bottles! Thankfully, Suzanne was there for me....we went over my list, and she added the missing pieces. Plus, she did not make fun of me for being such a dumb ass. She is good people. (Oh, and the 6 month old girl did not end up coming into foster care. I still say a prayer that she is okay. She is probably 6 now.)
Thanks to Suzanne, I am better prepared these days. We have a "foster baby" box under a bed. It contains some necessities: bottles, liners, regular bottles, spoons, baby monitor, blankets, bibs, burp cloths, etc. We have a pack-and-play, which is the perfect bed for a little one who drops into your life unexpectedly! But, I still ask for validation, for reassurance, for the missing pieces of my list. And she is there to fill in what I have missed, to ask me what I need, to reassure, to help.
We took in a baby boy almost a month ago now. We were in pretty good shape for him (see above paragraph), but we needed a high chair. Knowing Crosby needed his, I didn't call/text/email Suzanne. I put a quick update on Facebook: "We have a little one staying with us for a few days, and we need a high chair. Does anyone have one we could have/borrow?" Who do you think responded first? Whose high chair do you think is now attached to my table? Of course, Suzanne's. Crosby uses the standing high chair, they also have a table-attaching one. "Take it, Crosby's not big enough for it yet."
I'm not sure I can be a foster parent without Suzanne. She's my lifeline, my Google, my baby whisperer, my brain, my person. It is reason #995,674,357,190,872,109,724 why she is going to beat this thing. The foster children need her! Well, at least the ones who live in my house do.
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
survivor guilt
This is something I don't talk about anymore. I wish I could type it in a whisper now, actually. You see....I am a cancer survivor. Four years ago this month, after months of tests and doctor appointments and a "suspicious" biopsy, I had my thyroid removed. The surgeon told me I "dodged a bullet," as the cancer was just about to burst out and spread. Thankfully, they got it all.
Lately, I ask myself "why?" all the time. Why me? Why Suzanne? Why? WHY? Why, if she had to have cancer, couldn't she have thyroid cancer? Why? Why not anything easier to treat than what she has? Why did I get to walk away from it and she is stuck in its grip? It eats at me. Guilt. I hate that my road, in the grand scheme of treatments, was the easy one......and hers appears to be an uphill climb. Guilty. I feel so guilty.
Because.......after a treatment regimen and finding the right medication, I'm doing great. The cancer has stayed away, and I am diligent about doctor's appointments, bloodwork, and taking my medicine (well, mostly..I forget about once a week). I do ultrasounds every third year, and now my endocrinologist lets me do my WBS (whole body scan) every other year instead of every year (this was HUGE for me, as it means no LID [low iodine diet] every year, which is the worst!).
When the diagnosis/pathology came first came in, though, I was in shock. I spent a LOT of time researching, trying to understand. It is such a unique cancer, especially in its treatment. I joined an online support group that was a lifesaver. I "met" a dear friend there - we had surgery the same day and have been close friends ever since. I spent a lot of time reassuring my family and friends that it was okay, I was going to be okay, and as far as cancers go, it was treatable.
Still, it was cancer, and it shook me to my core. It took away a constant in my life, something I took great pride in - my health. I'd never had to worry about it before - seasonal allergies, horrific cramps, winter colds, but nothing major. I'd never even broken a bone (still haven't - knock wood!). I hated it. And, as much as I reassured everyone else, I couldn't reassure myself. It was CANCER, for heaven's sake. Cancer! At 33! It was terrifying. And, recurrence is always a possibility (hence the diligence with the endocrinologist).
Today, I am grateful. I am so grateful that it was treatable. I am so grateful that my GP checked my neck and ran tests. I am grateful to Dr. D'A. for being the best doctor in the world. I am grateful to Dr. A-D. and even the odd Dr. McC. for treating me, testing me, for keeping me here. I am so grateful for radioactive iodine, Thyrogen, and Synthroid. I am grateful to all the patients who came before me for their lessons and the Low Iodine Cookbook. Mostly, though, I am just grateful to be here. Living my life. Loving my family and friends. Counting my blessings.
I want to see my Pookie here - at the grateful place. Battle-weary, but surviving and grateful to those who made the journey possible. I will wait for her here....arms open, smile ready....I will wait.
Lately, I ask myself "why?" all the time. Why me? Why Suzanne? Why? WHY? Why, if she had to have cancer, couldn't she have thyroid cancer? Why? Why not anything easier to treat than what she has? Why did I get to walk away from it and she is stuck in its grip? It eats at me. Guilt. I hate that my road, in the grand scheme of treatments, was the easy one......and hers appears to be an uphill climb. Guilty. I feel so guilty.
Because.......after a treatment regimen and finding the right medication, I'm doing great. The cancer has stayed away, and I am diligent about doctor's appointments, bloodwork, and taking my medicine (well, mostly..I forget about once a week). I do ultrasounds every third year, and now my endocrinologist lets me do my WBS (whole body scan) every other year instead of every year (this was HUGE for me, as it means no LID [low iodine diet] every year, which is the worst!).
When the diagnosis/pathology came first came in, though, I was in shock. I spent a LOT of time researching, trying to understand. It is such a unique cancer, especially in its treatment. I joined an online support group that was a lifesaver. I "met" a dear friend there - we had surgery the same day and have been close friends ever since. I spent a lot of time reassuring my family and friends that it was okay, I was going to be okay, and as far as cancers go, it was treatable.
Still, it was cancer, and it shook me to my core. It took away a constant in my life, something I took great pride in - my health. I'd never had to worry about it before - seasonal allergies, horrific cramps, winter colds, but nothing major. I'd never even broken a bone (still haven't - knock wood!). I hated it. And, as much as I reassured everyone else, I couldn't reassure myself. It was CANCER, for heaven's sake. Cancer! At 33! It was terrifying. And, recurrence is always a possibility (hence the diligence with the endocrinologist).
Today, I am grateful. I am so grateful that it was treatable. I am so grateful that my GP checked my neck and ran tests. I am grateful to Dr. D'A. for being the best doctor in the world. I am grateful to Dr. A-D. and even the odd Dr. McC. for treating me, testing me, for keeping me here. I am so grateful for radioactive iodine, Thyrogen, and Synthroid. I am grateful to all the patients who came before me for their lessons and the Low Iodine Cookbook. Mostly, though, I am just grateful to be here. Living my life. Loving my family and friends. Counting my blessings.
I want to see my Pookie here - at the grateful place. Battle-weary, but surviving and grateful to those who made the journey possible. I will wait for her here....arms open, smile ready....I will wait.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
look it up, write it down
Lately, I've been doing a lot of research. I research all sorts of things.....recipes (for myself....I am a dork who reads cookbooks like novels), chemo treatments/side effects, crochet patterns/ideas, "heart wills" (the memories a terminal patient makes to leave for their family), cancer statistics/studies/info, cars (I want to buy a new one someday), fundraising ideas, survivor stories, Kindles (I'm thinking of getting one), Ron Swanson (I have a problem), quotes....I could go on and on. A big shout-out to Pinterest here - what a game-changer it is when scouring the Internet!
A few weeks ago, this research led me to a stage 4 cervical cancer survivor's post. It has really stuck with me. She wrote, "Don't let the odds speak for you.....someone has to be that 2%, that 5%, that 20%, and it might as well be you."
Do you hear me? It might as well be YOU, Suzanne. It WILL be you. You ARE the Outlier.
A few weeks ago, this research led me to a stage 4 cervical cancer survivor's post. It has really stuck with me. She wrote, "Don't let the odds speak for you.....someone has to be that 2%, that 5%, that 20%, and it might as well be you."
Do you hear me? It might as well be YOU, Suzanne. It WILL be you. You ARE the Outlier.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
corn toasties & a firm, ripe banana
I wish I had better recollection of this one....but a lot of the details are lost to me. This does not mean I am getting old, thank you. I blame it all on my thyroid...or lack thereof. My memory has been crud since I lost that thing!
Regardless......our senior year of high school, a group of us began going to breakfast before school. Howard Johnson's was our destination of choice, and I think we went to both the South Glens Falls and Queensbury locations. Forget coffee, laughter really is the best way to start your day.....and that is mostly what we did at breakfast!
For certain, I remember myself, Suzanne, and Jenn (Barton) going.....some other faces jumping out at me are Michelle (Nichols), Danielle (LaPrairie), and Sue (Baldwin). I could be wrong on all of those, though! And I am sure I am forgetting people, too - I hate that. I'm also not sure of how often we went....maybe once a week or once every other week....darn memory!
We did actually eat at breakfast, along with being silly and obnoxious. I do believe Jenn is responsible for the "firm, ripe banana" that was often ordered. Corn toasties were another popular breakfast choice. My daughter now loves them, and I smile every time she asks for one.
I warned you - this was a fuzzy one, but for some reason it was on my mind today. Us...young and carefree....taking off before school with our friends....to have fun.... rolling into school full of inside jokes and laughter. Man, the little that is left of the memory sure is wonderful. I can't stop smiling when I think of it. The good old days indeed.
Regardless......our senior year of high school, a group of us began going to breakfast before school. Howard Johnson's was our destination of choice, and I think we went to both the South Glens Falls and Queensbury locations. Forget coffee, laughter really is the best way to start your day.....and that is mostly what we did at breakfast!
For certain, I remember myself, Suzanne, and Jenn (Barton) going.....some other faces jumping out at me are Michelle (Nichols), Danielle (LaPrairie), and Sue (Baldwin). I could be wrong on all of those, though! And I am sure I am forgetting people, too - I hate that. I'm also not sure of how often we went....maybe once a week or once every other week....darn memory!
We did actually eat at breakfast, along with being silly and obnoxious. I do believe Jenn is responsible for the "firm, ripe banana" that was often ordered. Corn toasties were another popular breakfast choice. My daughter now loves them, and I smile every time she asks for one.
I warned you - this was a fuzzy one, but for some reason it was on my mind today. Us...young and carefree....taking off before school with our friends....to have fun.... rolling into school full of inside jokes and laughter. Man, the little that is left of the memory sure is wonderful. I can't stop smiling when I think of it. The good old days indeed.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
mudslide memories
The summer after our junior year of college, I joined Suzanne working at the Shoreline restaurant in Lake George. It was my first time working in a restaurant, but Suzanne was a pro. Thank heavens, or I never could have done it!
The best part of that summer, other than working with Suzanne, was the mudslides. At least once a week, we would gather at Suzanne's for mudslides after our shifts. Mudslide Sundays....Mondays...Tuesdays.....any day would do! Mmmmm. Our tools: a blender, ice, ice-cream, Kahlua, vodka, and milk. Divine! Shawn, Sue, and Suzanne were pros - they mixed a mean pitcher of mudslides without even thinking about it. One night early on, they let me mix them.....then promptly forgot that I was A) mixing them and B) had never done it before. Ice, check. Ice cream, check. Kahlua....no one is watching me...okay, that looks good. Vodka.....no one is watching....should I stop now? No one is watc - "Stop!!!!," shouts Suzanne. Much laughter ensues as we try to determine if we can still drink them. Holy intoxication, Batman, those were the strongest mudslides ever! Stole your breath, put hair on your chest strong. I can still see Shawn's face when he took the first sip! I think we may have had to mix them with a second pitcher. Oops!
The four of us had a lot of fun that summer....the Melissa Etheridge concert may go down in history as our finest moment. (But that's a story for another time!) I'm happy to say we are all still friends.....and Shawn and Suzanne are now (legally and officially!) related.
I learned so much that glorious, alcohol-soaked season, but one lesson has really served me well through the years: making a proper mudslide. Of course, you need the right ingredients, but, most importantly, if you want to drink them: never, ever let the newbie make the mudslides.
The best part of that summer, other than working with Suzanne, was the mudslides. At least once a week, we would gather at Suzanne's for mudslides after our shifts. Mudslide Sundays....Mondays...Tuesdays.....any day would do! Mmmmm. Our tools: a blender, ice, ice-cream, Kahlua, vodka, and milk. Divine! Shawn, Sue, and Suzanne were pros - they mixed a mean pitcher of mudslides without even thinking about it. One night early on, they let me mix them.....then promptly forgot that I was A) mixing them and B) had never done it before. Ice, check. Ice cream, check. Kahlua....no one is watching me...okay, that looks good. Vodka.....no one is watching....should I stop now? No one is watc - "Stop!!!!," shouts Suzanne. Much laughter ensues as we try to determine if we can still drink them. Holy intoxication, Batman, those were the strongest mudslides ever! Stole your breath, put hair on your chest strong. I can still see Shawn's face when he took the first sip! I think we may have had to mix them with a second pitcher. Oops!
The four of us had a lot of fun that summer....the Melissa Etheridge concert may go down in history as our finest moment. (But that's a story for another time!) I'm happy to say we are all still friends.....and Shawn and Suzanne are now (legally and officially!) related.
I learned so much that glorious, alcohol-soaked season, but one lesson has really served me well through the years: making a proper mudslide. Of course, you need the right ingredients, but, most importantly, if you want to drink them: never, ever let the newbie make the mudslides.
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