I saw a saying on a poster I liked, Blessed are the flexible for they shall not be bent out of shape. It follows what Mike and I talked about yesterday. How to reduce the stress our lives a little. We have been focusing on simplifying our lives for five years now. As many of you know, the getting rid of our beloved home and all its contents wasn't our choice (water/mold damage), but it did start us on the road to simplifying our lives.
Now we are just floating out there the idea of reducing stress in our lives in the future. Yoga comes up.
We had a really nice visit with Fr. J yesterday. I think of this as preventative counseling. We have met with him four times since my cancer diagnosis, just to help me and Mike and the two of us talk about whatever we want to talk about.
Some thoughts I'm bringing forward from our chatting and our dinner afterward (Hollerbach's Willow Tree Cafe in Sanford, the BEST schnitzel this side of the Atlantic):
1. To forgive someone when they don't ask for it, sometimes it helps to think of them as lost on their path. Whatever their path may be. We are all lost sometimes, and hurts aren't always meant to hurt us.
2. Living in the moment. Doesn't mean don't think only in the moment. It is really okay, and a good thing, to be responsible and plan ahead. Just LIVE in the moment. I never could figure that out. This makes sense.
3. Some of our statements as adults have roots from childhood. I tell Mike he is taking good care of me (he is.) He says he is trying. I say, you are not only trying but succeeding. To him, trying is an A+, and the succeeding part isn't the point. The trying is the process and it conveys that you keep improving. Now I get it, I think.
4. I need affirmation from friends and family. I need it. I think this is a weakness in me. I think I should look more to God for my self-worth, or have a healthier sense of my value as a person, as a being (not a do-ing.) I am working on that (HA, what irony.) But I really crave friends and family connecting with me.
This is more difficult when you are constantly tired, because I am not spending much time out of the nap or sleep state, I am not involved in all the activities that allow me time with my friends and family. And I have the normal responsibilities to graciously manage in my awake time (mainly this house, my Dad and Mike's Dad.)
Everyone's life is busy. And I can tell you I am really not as much fun to be with as I was six months ago.
So you are the loyal and devoted friends and family who still text me, call me, email me, feed me, take me mall walking, take me to appointments. You are so loyal and kind and the very definition of loving.
5. I have hit the twenty mile mark of my marathon. My eyes are dry and itchy, my left arm is a bit swollen (lymphedema), my left hand has one nerve that is still not happy from the surgery. My head aches a little, I know I can't think as well as before. My stomach is finally settled after two weeks and today my nose is running like a broken faucet (what is that about?) My wig feels too tight after an hour and I get out of breath walking to the car. I randomly get chills and also randomly my heart starts racing. This week I have six good peppy hours a day, then I nap. I am not saying all this to complain, just that this is the twenty mile mark.
I am trying not to worry about Chemo #5. I want to protect my bone marrow, nerve endings, heart. I don't want to feel as bad as I did the last time. I'm trying to figure out how to do this.
6. Kindness comes from everywhere. I visited Dad today, sorted out his pills in one of those weekly AM/PM pill containers, then he walked me back to my car. I told him I felt like this was a marathon and I was at the twenty mile mark. He's seventy nine, and we have noticed that after years of being foggy and slow, he is now cheery, more peppy, making jokes and complimenting me. We have reduced his medicines. But today it occurred to me, he is being cheery for me!
When my mom died in 2001, Dad grieved. Then he became a teenager again, dating and just plain having fun. He had a blast. Then he had a car accident five years ago, then several strokes, and went from party animal to old old man. At that point, once I asked him what specifically what I could do for him. He said, whenever you see me, be cheery. I got it. Don't be depressed in front of him because he is not able to do what he could, that old age is creeping up. Be cheery and loving and upbeat, as I am the most intimate interaction he has during the week. So I have been.
So now, when his only child is facing cancer, he is no longer foggy and sad and critical. He is being cheery for me. (He's had two cancers, parotid gland tumor when he was thirty five and melanoma when he was fifty eight.) He has told me that finally I am as bald as he is. Thank you for doing his pills. That I look cute in my scarf. He greets us with a smile and a clever remark on Saturdays when we go to lunch. I am tearing as I type this. You see, I am just over flooded with kindnesses from every corner. And they all add up to a beautiful bouquet!
