girl at large

Good Scrolling

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today was a Bed Day. For every three to four Doing Stuff days, I have one Bed Day. I’m working hard to suppress the bad feeling about staying in bed all day (thanks a lot capitalism, Lutheranism and midwestern mythology). I’m working on accepting my “new normal”.

The best part about the new normal is Mama’s Bed Time. It’s my favorite time of day. 

Tonight, I had them both laughing and squealing at cat videos I had saved for them. They LOST THIER SHIT. I haven’t heard them laugh like that in months. 

So, now I’ll be staying up all night tonight saving stories and reels and TikTok’s of all the funny cat things. 

Trust Me, This Was Hilarious

 

 

 

 

 

 

Me: “Therapy was tough this week. She suggested I’m holding on to this grudge because it’s easier and less painful than facing my mortality.”

Mom (aged 79): “Well, I’m having to come to terms with it too.”

Me: “What is that like for you?”

Mom: “Losing you is going to be hard.”

Me: “Wait, who are we talking about? YOU or ME?! Do you think you're going to outlive me?!”

Mom:  “Oops”

Little Moments

 

 

 

 

 

When I got home from the hospital, the first thing I did was take a long shower and do all the things—shampoo, fancy body wash, every lotion I own. The kids, who didn’t know I was out of the hospital, came home about an hour later and ran right up the steps to jump on me in bed. 

“Mama’s home!!”

“How did you know I was here?”

”We could smell you!” 

 

 

 

I’m So Sick of This

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cancer blew up my life, sepsis has blown up our summer. We’ve had to cancel two of our little summer adventure trips, reschedule our beloved Shaker Village trip, and I missed my painting retreat on Madeline Island.

The Madeline Island art school was kind enough to let me roll over about half the cost to another session, so I’m going at the end of the month. But it’s not the same teacher or focus. It’s a bummer.

The summer weekend trips have given me so much escape…I would guess most people can see the “bucket list” drive I’ve had for them. More than once I’ve pushed myself too hard to make a drive, or to do too many activities. There’s a frenzy behind the fun.

I wanted another summer of making memories and getting out in beautiful landscapes…me walking behind the kids as they run on a beach or explore a new park, thinking of my death. Thinking of my absence in their lives and desperately trying to fill the time with fun and novel places. Hoping they remember us as an intact unit. Hoping they remember me.

This  “Phase 2” of my cancer has been really hard. In some ways harder than Phase 1. Phase 2 started when they found the cancer cells in my ovaries in September. In a day, everything changed. I went from holy cow I think I might be ok for a long time and only having to take 1 cancer drug (with no side effects!) to crap this thing is never going away and all the chemo and complications since. My therapist said I haven’t even processed that yet. She’s right.

I’m pissed. This is so unfair. I did everything I was supposed to do, I suffered stoically through it all. And I STILL am the loser.

Stage 4 is a strange thing. It’s death and yet we keep living. It’s invisible yet we are being slowly murdered. The treatment saves your life but alters your life beyond recognition. How can I be grateful for that? I’m not. I’m really really pissed.

I want my summer back. I want my life back.