And the Trophy goes to: Impossible Toxic People

You can pick your friends. You can choose your community and who you surround yourself with.

Sometimes you are stuck with a bad bunch. Like with soccer. and AYSO.

Leeward AYSO is hopelessly disorganized and just a hot mess. I can't fix everything. I can't fix it. My kid wants to play soccer. It's an option. If you are completely flexible, like last minute notice, and put up with favoritism and sexism.

This diatribe could go on forever, but this is my vent on bad people to purge it and then I am moving on. By the way I'm tired so there will be swearing and referring to oneself in third person.

Our kids are always on the Bad News Bears teams because we sign up late and generally don't "know" people. People pick teams and coaches and such- my kids just want to play- location is more important when trying to coordinate the afternoon shuffles.

This season, Bella's soccer team is half from Waianae, half Kapolei- as opposed to one team being dissolved. Because when the powers that be have to load their select teams- it leaves all these leftover kids like Bella who just want to play. SO our coach doesn't even have a kid on our team- but kindly volunteered- because none of us other parents can be bothered to coach. She is a good person. She knows the sport and is a good balance of tough and fun with girls.  AYSO is a volunteer organization, parents are expected to help. Its in their whatevery-doodle thing.

First day of practice- we all stand around- that uncomfortable -are you on my team- thing. I see a mom yank her kid to the ground by the ponytail. Yep it's gonna be THAT kind of team.

Coach asks for help with anything, volunteers, nothing. nothing. Noone. Now it's U12- the girls should be pretty self sufficient. The biggest thing is reffing. NO ONE wants to ref. Its always a problem. ALWAYS. I say give parents the option- fucking ref or fork over whatever $$ to have someone else do it. but I don't have time to fix this bullshit, so technically I can just do what I've been brought up to do- offer what I can and go from there. I don't want to ref either- Phil will probably only be able to make a couple of games due to his fun schedule- Kiera has all day ballet on saturdays and the boy has ACTS/Sat's and wrestling- so I cant pay them to do it this season like I have in the past.

I talk to coach later and explain our situation, cancer and all.  I'm happy to send out emails, disseminate schedule- help order trophies but I do not have the energy to ref and most practices I will be running kids from point a to b to c in a carefully choreographed volunteer uber drill so I will not be just sitting by the sideline. A modified "team mom" if you will. She just lost a sister to breast cancer. She doesn't want to put that on me. Honestly though- we've both assessed the team- there is not going to be any other offers. She said give her a week. A week later- guess who's team mom?

The schedule doesn't come out until the 4th game of the season. I'm straight forward- meet with team- I don't think snacks need to be a huge deal- I don't believe in potluck after games but I will do what the team wants.  Crickets. Crickets. I don't know if you don't tell me. One Mom pipes up- on other teams the schedule just comes out and if people need to switch days they do. Ok great- but if you all know you have conflicts or preferred days- I can do that from the start. Crickets. crickets. (I've found in these situations when people are left to their own devices- they fail or skip out or generally just suck.)  If anyone has a preference let me know- otherwise I'll assign.  And this is that kind of team.

So no volunteers. No input. No response to emails, text or even show up for meeting(or to pick up their damn kid) after practice. So I put names in hat and generate schedules. I take the first 2 games of snacks because well I don't generally expect anyone to do something I'm not willing to do and Bella honestly likes to take snacks for her team.  A couple moms see I am doing that and volunteer the next slots. I offer to bring the pop up tent for girls, just ask that I please have help setting it up.  After no help for 2 games-( I have the boy and girl children help because I needed it-ending up with pulled muscles and mystery bruises- love chemo weeks) I didn't bring the tent. oooh no tent today?? nope no tent- too tired to mess with it.  Next time- another family brings one. Ok appreciate it.  Not entirely hopeless.

So then comes the game with the first assigned snack slot. Mind you I send out emails, the team page sends out reminders, everyone has been given a physical copy. AND a bonus text the night before. This is all shit I've done with my spare time- well because I love my damn kid and other parents are being kind enough to coach her- the least I can effing do is help them a little and the request was to send out reminders for them. I get a text message 10 minutes before the game is supposed to start. Remember ponytail yanker?

maybe maybe not. who knows.

No follow up- no show. At half time- we have 2 parents helping coach because both other coaches are off island.-Something AYSO was fully aware of but refuse to help with scheduling- I'm sure to accomodate "select" coach druthers.  I am at the tent with the girls because as usual- our bad news bears are playing a select(advanced team) and playing their hearts out in a very unmatched skill kinda way and this is when kids get hurt. So I was checking on girl who had been hurt. No snacks- who has snack- of course- no show mom has snacks. No surprise there. Sorry girls no snacks today. It's an hour long game- they will survive. But the ranks are pissed. And apparently one of the team members mentioned this to no show snack girl at school the next week. OH yay soccer mom drama ensued. How the fuck do I get myself into this shit.

Coach told daughter that the next week snacks were already assigned and not to worry about it- the past was the past and everyone was moving on time to practice..  woo how unnecessary. but- oh we were sick now? that explains the lack of follow up message...riiiiight...excuses excuses. whatevs.

So I forward coach the deets and she has a face to face with said no show snack mom who has a big bite by text but ain't so tough in person. Awesome. I'm all about knowing people are fighting battles you know nothing about- trying to be gracious an understanding but we kinda have a couple strikes here. Following week- I email/ text to please order and pay for trophies if they are wanted by such and such date. One mom says flat out no- 2 others don't respond. No show snack mom is one who doesn't respond. You know how this is going to go down.

Jen orders trophies. Jen orders coaches gifts. Jen is covering coaches gift because I don't want the effing headache and I'd give coaches gifts anyways- they are kind enough to dedicate 6 hours a week to helping my kids- I appreciate the hell out of that. Trophies are cheaper than anticipated- because Jen has been in game system for years and knows a good lil shop by physical therapy. Not the more expensive- we got a guy-"AYSO" connection. I let parents know the cost- that I was covering the coaches gift and I will bring their change to next game. Good parents say keep change and apply towards coaches gift. No show snack mom says- is it too late to pay for a trophy? Jen says well I already ordered the trophies, I can call and see if a trophy can be added and yes you can pay me. Because I think kids shouldn't have to pay for their parents being assholes. And then Jen kicks Jen's self for not just ordering the damn trophy to begin with because Jen knew this was going to go down like this. This is why Jen is not in sales. She would never make money. Jen is beginning to think she doesn't really like people at all.

Jen orders the extra trophies- even for others who don't want because well we can't not give 2 girls trophies. Fucking everyone gets a goddamn trophy. whatever - I just want to be done- this is why my kids don't have college funds but decent manners.

Then Jen sends out reminders for this week's game and snack and reffing assignments. Of course no show snack mom has reffing assignment. There were already auto email reminders with all pertinent info. We know how this is going to go down don't we? and there it goes.

winner winner chicken dinner. I did explain everyone has other kids and we are all busy. Apparently that was rude. I cant even reason with this idiocy. nonsense. lack of decency. with no clue. 

So I stop bothering because you cannot reason with this type of person and I refuse to let her toxic nonsense ruin my day- despite the fact it is really trying to because well it absolutely fucking offends the shit out of my sensibilities- but she will never understand what an ass she is and I do have better things to do with my time. Imma gonna let karma deal. I respond for her to please bring the trophy money to the game on Saturday. We all KNOW she wont be at the game on Saturday. Then I change my mind and text - never mind the money- I'd like the trophy to be my gift to her daughter.  Then I block her number because of this last gem. We all know I'm a neva gonna see that $14.  Its not even worth it and lord knows that little girl needs some kindness in her life.

And that is a day in the life of soccer mom. Check team mom off bucket list. or whatever hellish list it belongs on and good riddance. So Phil will ref on saturday because we are not assholes.  I am done with AYSO and will have to get creative for Bella's soccer.  And I will point out that this is fairly noramlish life stuff. There are assholes everywhere- everyone has one- it's a personal choice to BE one or be around one and I am pretty mad at myself for letting this one stink up any bit of my world.  And really no one wants to be up close and personal with one. This nut job is a front runner for 2020 presidential elections right here. 

Awareness, Advocacy and Exhaustion

Pink,  Pink, Pink. Kids wear pink to school, football teams and brands sell all kinds of pink nonsense - very little of which goes to help ladies like me. Some ladies love the pink, buy the pink and stand midfield and get a cheer- so for that sort morale for these survivors and fighters, that is a good outcome. Pink bracelets that cost $25 and $1 goes toward something vaguely breast related.


Awareness is important- and paramount importance on an individual level. As the president of an organization whose mission is supporting those with a rare hereditary cancer syndrome called Li-Fraumeni Syndrome(see- so I said the syndrome name there- put it out there so maybe one person will read it and go- hmm how the eff do you say that..)- awareness is something that is both part of my job and that I personally invest an inordinate amount of time in.

With LFS, our risk of cancer is close to 100% in our lifetime. Lifetime is 60-70 years too by the way. It's 50% by age 30.  In my family- dead zone was 43. Of course my aunt and uncle are nice enough to survive into their 60's which gives me hope. Then sometimes I sit and ponder that we lost my brother at 16 and my cousin at 8 so years lost to the damn disease pretty disproportionate there. If you look at it in years lost.  Quality life years. Kids, taken by the nasty disease.  So with awareness, it's getting better with detection for our kids(I am putting it in understandable terms- "better" is on the scale of shit soup to shit sammich- at least with a shit sammich you can try and grab it without it getting all over you emphasis on try.) Early detection "buys" us time. Time with cancer- but time. Someday we will be better and nail this prevention thing.

Before I knew for sure I had LFS- which was officially accomplished through a kid having cancer and a mailed off blood sample genetic test in 2009. I knew I had LFS in my family. We had a shit ton of cancer. So I went to my annual physical exams, I had weirdsies looked at- spent many a night wondering if lumps were going to kill me, or if the headaches were tumors. When I was 16, I drove myself to an MRI situated in the parking lot of the Aurora Hospital because my brother was dying of a brain tumor and I had headaches ALL the time. Go figure. Taking all advanced courses, brother dying, one of the toughest times socially- but at least we ruled out brain tumors as a cause. One would say- what are the odds of a family having 2 cancers at the same time- much less 2 brain tumors- well you've never known a mutant family because it is horrifying how much it happens. Hell for 3 weeks of my first pregnancy - before I knew I was pregnant I was convinced I was dying of cancer. That is livine LFS, living with hereditary cancer. The first thought- it's cancer. Oh no I might just be preggo. Well shit that's not a big deal...That's a temporary normal condition. Years later, that child started having symptoms. Oh hell the kid is wasting away- shit what if it's cancer- oh it's just diabetes- at least that can be treated....

So while many put on their pink shirts and race their pink races- good changes have been made in the world of pink and breast cancer. Which is awesome. But you can live without boobs. You can. It's not fun, especially if you are a young woman. I of course was fortunate to use the hell out of my boobs before chopping one off- so I have a different perspective. I completely feel for young women who get shackled with this bullshit. Like kids getting cancer- there is something very wrong with young women getting breast cancer- genetics or not.  In LFS- we see women in their early 20's with breast cancer. Some have a family history of breast cancer- others are the very first in their family. So awareness is making a difference in that women are aware of their bodies and being good about screening- we mutants have to be extra dilligent- BUT what about the mutants out there who don't know they are mutants?.....awareness. See the conundrum. Because LFS is going to effect way less than breast cancer and it effects WAY more body parts than just the breasts- parts you cannot remove easily- BUT breast cancer is a HUGE part of LFS. Also a p53 mutation- which we (mutant sorts)have in all of our cells and is why our bodies don't fight cancer as well as it should  "Normal" non mutant cancers(just the toomahs)  have mutations in their cells too- and 50% are p53- driving their cancerness. SO being aware of p53 mutations has a much bigger impact on the overall cancer world than just my merry band of mutants- digest....

I teach my kids to be aware of their bodies. Lumps, bumps, headaches, anything weird that is changing or not changing but weird or just seems off. ALL of our cancers were diagnosed because I had that feeling. The pediatrician thought precocious puberty for a 3 year old was reasonable with Lily's adrenal tumor.  Neither one of our sarcomas were taken seriously. I only had a local anesthetic when mine was removed- 2 flipping students in the room and me repeatedly saying please take wider margins. But you will have a scar. Rather a scar and arm and living.  And then trying to get a breast MRI as a dependent in a military hospital even though you have a documented high risk and feel a lump. Well when you get diagnosed with a sarcoma in your arm suddenly BOTH MRI machines are available to you. We've followed several things in multiple children. The stress and what ifs suck. Fortunately most are just normal weirdish things that if we were normal hahahahaha we wouldn't be bothered with. But we have to be bothered because if we let the one get away- that is the difference between life and death for us.

Which brings me to advocacy. Having a cancer syndrome that's rare that no one knows about means CONSTANT advocacy. 1) can you spell that? Li what? 2) I've never heard of that   or We studied that in med school do you mind if I bring in all the residents to talk with you?  to 3) which I have never heard but many of my mutants have- that isn't a thing. Yes, yes it is. First of all we are sensitive to radiation. Meaning- just Xrays and CTs can cause damage in our already mutant tissues. So mammograms for early detection aren't the greatest option all the time- the more ways we damage our cells- the greater chances of tumors developing. Hence the breast MRI. We cannot avoid radiation- it's all around us. We do the best we can. I opt of the full body massage at TSA. We dont get dental xrays- because last time I checked those rays go directly to your nugget and unless the person operating the machine has a better understanding of it than I do- not gonna happen.  Advocacy. Doing what's right for you. It takes thought and effort. It is exhausting and it matters.

When you have LFS there are different considerations. We call it shark closest to the boat.  You have to deal with the immediate threat. SO alot of times you have to really do something you don't want to do to even get to the point you can consider the down the road consequences. There is no clear cut answer and the choices just fucking suck. Triage. So picking between 2 politicians- although not a great choice and disappointing is not a life and death crisis for me.  Shit sammich, shit soup- pick your poison, let everyone else pick theirs. Shut up about it and live with the consequences. Either way it's gonna be shit you have to get down. If you don't like it- DO something- just bitching is NOT going to change anything - unless you bitch to the right people and then we call it advocacy- figure out the right people- FB is NOT it.

My current shit sammich- the fucking Brain MRI. Which was supposed to be the first week of October. IS. NOT.YET.SCHEDULED.  While at one of my many adventures to Tripler in September, while Phil was in Guam, I ventured down to MRI to schedule in person. Because calling to schedule them is like an olympic level game of phone tag.  And they know us-- so generally they have a little pity on me and TRY to schedule appointments.  We are lucky to live by a military treatment facility(MTF). We have access to much better care and less headaches from being referred out. When we get referred out there are bills and insurance claims and none of that ever goes smoothly and is a time committment. So I prefer the limited bells and whistles of the MTF- brought about by soooo many complaints of wasted tax dollars...but they are your tax dollars too so well thank you and I cant complain.  I love the looks of horror when my civilian friends  and family accompany me to the hospital. Helloooo 1960, BUT I am alive and here so #1 objective is a success. Dang I digress.

So the Radiology dept is down a machine. They are always down a machine. There is too much business there for what they even have normally. And different machines do different things and well MRIs take longer than CTs, xrays yada yada. So dependents get referred out. Unless its a stat or urgent which unless I say I am having symptoms- doesnt make me. Yes, Brain tumor in fucking dependent head takes back seat to active duty owie muscles. And although there are times I am not opposed to playing up symptoms to get expeditious service(ER hell)  I will not do it for something that will land me in the OR or when its not in our best interest. So the nice lady who scheduled all my kids' MRIs explained  to me that I was referred out. Did I not get notified by mail? Haha. awesome. no.  Which was fascinating because My onc and neurologist both discussed this with the radiologist and for continuity of brain toomah care....I should be seen there. BUT I never GOT the referral. In the mail. She is appalled. Nothing she can do- radiologist says no-tries calling neuro- he's in surgery- kinda more important and someplace I dont want to be so I will figure it out. I call neuros assistant who we all know is the go to person- explain the issue. She will call back. She does not call back.

Then life hits like a mother fucking(excuse the language but highly appropriate here) truck. Refer to September hell. Normalish hell on the homefront with added chaser of super hell- but on top of me trying to advocate to see what the fuck my brain tumor is doing so I can maybe plan brain surgery around my husband's ever so amenable schedule(insert biggest effing sarcastic font available) and the lives and times of 4 kids and their medical and life. Then we are all completely emotionally drained and throat punched again with how life changes in an instant(well aware- these fucking MRIs also hold a slice of that intellectual power...scanxiety much). I am emotionally drained. Phil is emotionally drained and although rationally I know I need to get my shark teeth up in the MRI scheduling and make it happen- there reserves are gone. Depleted. Moving expeditiously toward negative.

Advocacy. Time. Energy. Resources. All in limited supply right now. I hunt down my online password. To see if there is in fact a referral that I never got in the mail. There is. I call neuro assistant who is now on leave for a week. So at that point I triage and am going to punt it to my onc who I will see at chemo the following Monday. So onc and nurse go all MRI wrangler for me and have the exact same result I had. So we are back to shark-get MRI done asap -which will have to be referred out- which not as ideal for comparison as in house and risk repeating or wait 6 more weeks to be seen in house(and probbaly get bumped...) So Phil and I ever trying to plan our schedule(futile efforts)  say let's schedule the 6 week appt now and we will schedule the outside one. They won't until we have the outside one done..I cant even. So the next day I call to schedule. The outside hospital never got the referral either - I have not heard back. And there we are.

So Tomorrow I will again advocate to get something done that is imperative to my care- that I don't want to do. Because regardless of how much stress this scan causes me- the result is not going to change. Me not having it doesn't make anything go away. Now I might have to deal with bills and such and hunting down results and we will compare them and say we need more information and rinse and repeat. Is it the hardest thing in the world? Nah. Comparatively to what we have to do and have done and have been through- it is teeny tiny beans. But it is one more thing on the cumulative stack of things. And one more thing that adds stress to my world and takes precious time away from anything that resembles down or "free" time.  And I've noticed my compassion reserves are depleting and that is very very hard for me. Because when things get bleak for me- I throw myself into helping others- because there is always someone who could use help. Between my energy and the emotional drain, I've had to pull back and then the depression monster sets in and he carries all the loss and pain of the past in this big ominous cloud balloon.  And it's lonely. And hard. And I hate that I have so many friends going through extremely tough things and I am limited to help physically or emotionally. And I get a little negative and angry and I don't like to share that - as real as I fucking am- there is enough negativity out there. So that is the quiet. Not me hiding anything except monsters of negativity and sometimes that takes a lot of effort. It's exhausting. Wish some others would be so kind.

In other news- our oven finally arrived- evenly cooks bacon and cookies without the added fire hazard risk and I have an operational washer and dryer.

Impossible Loss.

September was impossibly hard.

Phil left for a TDY the day after Labor Day- and of course we were grateful- usually they leave the weekend before. Glad to have an extra day to get some things done.

On the 6th, I dropped him at work and went right into chemo. It was my first solo chemo mission I'm proud to say. I have so many tough mets sisters who do this drill by themselves week in and week out and I know how lucky I am to have Phil truly want to be there with me. It was absolutely heartbreaking Monday night as we were cleaning up after dinner when Phil asked what my plan was after I dropped him off. Work has  been beyond busy for him, although that is not new, it's life, but I really try not to add to his lists. After all he spent his weekend trying to make sure all the possible breaks around the house were in working order because Murphy tends to be an ass with his laws. He is amazing. Phil not Murphy. Murphy can bite me- and has, over and over.  So the look of realization on his face, Phil's not Murphy's- because Murphy again don't give a rose rodent rectum... that he had forgotten chemo absolutely broke my heart.

Chemo was uneventful and our first week went off without a hitch. Insert maniacal sarcasm face, laugh, whatever here. It was a normal disaster. 2 sick kids. Me trying to be 3-4 places at once. Each day saying I'm going to take it easy and well yeah- let's not say that, ever. Me getting sick- debating if I should have the boy child drive me in to the ER in the middle of the night- eh nah- my couch was more comfy than the ER.

So in the next weeks, I recovered, still had sick kids, 504 meetings for Lily- hearing aid loss and replacement, trying to get incompetent public health nurses to find and file paperwork so my child can have emergency meds at school(every damn year),  my car battery died, at the soccer field. Again In laws to the rescue. The dryer quit. Excellent lessons for kids in outside laundry drying- Lucky we live Hawaii, The oven we ordered did not show up and actually may not exist- TBD. I fortunately got to see my cousin and a truly awesome mutant- it did my soul good. Lily got sick again. Bella decided puking was a fun nighttime activity.  Phillip got a concussion. My MRI orders are messed up and I cannot seem to fix it. I know there is more but it suddenly all became really really really unimportant.

Late on Phillip's birthday, I get a call. The time and number are those that make a military wife's heart stop. You don't answer it because you know in your heart it's not good and I know I got a text earlier from Phil, but when. So I take a deep breath and call back. The first question is always- Have you talked to Phil? I had not. He's Ok. And you breathe but you know something very very bad is coming and you know that there are not 2 uniformed men at your door but you know that someone you care about very much is not going to be so lucky tonight. And your heart breaks so swiftly and completely because after almost 20 years you can never ever- as much as you know the risks of the job and try to prepare yourself- you can never ever prepare yourself to lose one of the guys. Sudden loss is so unbearably hard and unimaginable and knowing tonight there is so much heartbreak that you can do absolutely nothing about is excruciating.

There was an accident. It did not involve the jets. But really when it comes down to it- that doesn't matter- what matters is we lost a great person. Jeffrey "Bull" Braden. A young pilot with a beautiful wife and daughter and a baby on the way. A son was lost, a friend. And no one will be the same. As soon as I hang up, I crumble. I haven't been active in the squadron because I can barely keep up with our necessities. But it doesn't matter. It is family. And now- even more than usual,times like these I hate that I can not do it all. This is why there is a tight knit community. I'm just the weird distant relative who is always sick now. I call my sister in law and she comes over. I am so grateful for her. I know that Phil will not have time or be able to call and she assures me its going to be ok. All I want is to hear his voice and I know how absolutely devastated he and all the guys are. And then I feel completely devastated because a young woman will never get to hear her husband's voice again. A little girl will not get to see her daddy. A baby will come into this world without him. It is so unfair.

I kind of want the throat punches of perspective to stop. WE GET IT.  Phil returned home Sunday.  I so wish there was anything I could do. He drops me at chemo Monday and I can not wrap my head around the impossible 3 weeks it has been and that it just does not get easier and we are physically and emotionally drained and yet grateful just to be. He heads into work. Despite the impossibly hard. We hug each other tighter, again. We do what needs to get done, still. And we hope in some little way to be able to help others just a little bit.

If you can, Please please Keep Jeffrey "Bull" Braden's family in your thoughts and prayers. Please keep the Hawaiian Raptor Ohana in your thoughts as we prepare to say goodbye to a friend and outstanding pilot.

Jeffrey "Bull" Braden Memorial Fund

Bull Braden Memorial FUND

The Breaks

Things break. Hearts, waves, garage doors, bones. You catch a break. A good friend, someone helps, a wave. Break throughs. Breaking even. Taking a break.

A week ago the girls had their voice recital. It was on the tail end of a long(fairly normalish busy) kind of week. The recital was very casual(which I LOVE) and both teens had "friends" that were there with and for them. Which is another stage I am grateful to be here and alternately dreading- break ups.

Phillip had a break up not so long ago and it was not as traumatic as some of mine. With my husband even, long stories. Shocking to hear we've had a long history of bumpy roads- hence the really good shocks and struts we had installed or took time to put into our relationship. Part of life is learning about people and relationships and how to work with them. And many times the hardest part of being in a relationship is realizing the person you are with is not the person you want them to be and it's not up to you to change that- it's up to you to decide if you can live with who they are and accept it or move on. Sometimes you find out the person someone is- is actually better for you than what you thought you needed. Or you make the break, because clearly they are not. Learning curve.

As with all things drama, theatre, performance- there are breaks. You say Break a leg- not good luck. There is little that is fair about the entertainment world. It is rehearsed and really it is about who you know or someone helping you along the way-the breaks. The big break. I'm not saying there is not a lot of hard work and you can't break into the scene yourself. Totally doable. But most of it is luck and someone else's druthers. I'm a behind the scenes girl. The idea of being on stage doing anything other than painting it or arranging props makes me nauseous. But to see the girls enjoy it and shine- well that I can do- watch them shine. And they did. And they were the most shiney when they had fun and it showed. That and when they tried to make me cry- which was their voice coach's doing- Seriously- For Good from Wicked, Phantom, Think of Me- jam packed public tear fest. It was sloppy- my crying not the singing. And I love them and their coach to death for it. He is so good with them- pushing them to do better, yet lifting them up when they need it. He asked me to trust him and I had doubts, yet I did and the improvement I've seen in both girls (and many of their friends- also so fun to see!)over the year is really impressive. And I know they all worked hard. Despite Lily losing her hearing aids the week before recital(another indication of good training- she had to rely on what she knew- not necessarily what her ears were or were not telling her plus a wicked cold to boot. Those are the breaks.

One of our neighbors also had a birthday party that night. Lily had worried for weeks that she would miss it. We tried to plan it into our schedule because I know how much it means to her- they have been friends for years and years. Of course now he's 13 and she's 11 so their paths have diverged a bit and I also worried that she might get her little heart broken because even though they are just friends, sometimes friend dynamics change around this age. I was beat and not feeling great when we got home after recital- Phil grills up some dinner and the girls head over to the party.  I kid you not 15 minutes later Bella is running in the door saying Lily is hurt and we can hear Lily wailing in the back yard. Turns out she stubbed her little toe on a toy box at the party and it's looking pretty broken. Sticking out to the side. Broken.

I hand her a banana so I can feed her hydrocortisone and ibuprofen. She is being very tough. Phil and I look at it. One of our famous stories is how lil Phillip was playing soccer with uncle Grant in the back yard, barefoot and broke his toe. Due to our general aversion to the ER and hospital(despite appearances) we try to play doctor at home. We are convinced it is just dislocated and try to pull it back into place. Not dislocated, broken. Er trip, X-ray, buddy tape. Lesson learned. Sort of. Fast forward 10 years. Lily- You aren't going to pull it like Phillip's are you? Phil- No I'm just gonna look at- PULL. Scream. A little better. Nope it's broken. Yes proud parent moments. It's a little toe. We ice, we administer pain relievers, it just has to heal . We explain this to Lily. Phillip comes out to see what the screaming is about. Lily broke her toe- OH man did you guys pull it? yeah that's how we roll. Just rolling with the breaks or pulling the breaks. I shouldn't laugh- but we are a week out and she's lived to tell about it with no permanent disfigurement. So poor girl lost her hearing aids, has a cold and a broken toe. So much for planning- those are the breaks. Sometimes things break and we see they are about to break and try to avert crisis. Sometimes you just have to deal as it pops up. Or out.

As we geared up for my last scan the week before these adventures, I mentioned the oven/stove is a fire hazard to Phil. Now it is well documented in burn marks on my cabinets- that it may not be the only fire hazard. But the thing is about to full up break. So post most recent MRI - Phil takes Jen all hopped up on ativan oven shopping. Now I highly recommend this. It is a trip. Also watch videos called HIKEA- people smoke pot and try to assemble ikea furniture- hysterical- because doing that on a good day is entertaining. But don't do drugs, drugs are bad. Unless you have a stressful MRI and are claustrophobic then they are a means to an end and prescribed. And the end is a new oven with a pretty blue interior. Seriously. All this inhibition- function, yada yada- whateves- this one has a BLUE interior! The OVEN inside is BLUE. I must have it. Commence island wide search for soonest oven availability and best price. September and Best Buy. See we try to plan before things break. Try. To Plan. You know how this is going to turn out right?

Scans- So results took awhile and some hunting and calling. The skinny is slight growth. We are where we are. I would prefer stable. But we are looking at 2 millimeter size growth of the region- which is small. But it is also in a 6 week period. But that could also be the difference in 2 measurements of 2 different scans. Lots of buts. My neurosurgeon would feel most comfortable cutting it out of my head. I understand that and it's what he does. I like him, he has a great bedside manner and really takes our situation into consideration. He is not opposed to waiting and watching(carefully) since we do not know for sure what the bits and pieces are inside the cystic lesion- fluid, tissue, dead tissue and definitely with mutants- we like to err on the side of caution. I could have tumor growing, I could have new meaner tumor growing, or it could be necrosis from the radiation which will heal, or it could be a combination. The good news is I do not have symptoms and symptoms are one of my biggest fears about the surgery. Because the tumor is in my cerebellum- although surgery should not affect cognition and how brilliant I am or who I am- I could swagger like a drunken pirate for awhile. Or forever. And not be coordinated.  Which not the end of the world but kinda puts a damper on doing all the things I like to do. Is it a certainty- no. But a consideration. Just weighing the balances. I think surgery will have to be an option- but I am going with my gut and don't want things to get ugly but need to watch it for a little longer. Not to mention the whole brain surgery planning thing- it's gonna take a major committee. I also am lucky enough to know some really rock star brain surgeons, and brain surgery patients who give me the straight info. SO we wait and scan again at the end of September.

Last week was one of those weeks I went into with a- I'm going to take it easy attitude. Which I know better than to do. Normal busy appointments and such but then the little normal things add up along the way. Like the Air Conditioner making really bad noises. Not the end of the world- it's not that hot here and we have power and fans. It's on the radar- and so were 2 hurricanes. We were supposed to go to Bellows for Labor Day weekend- but in light of the crazy potential weather- that was cancelled. Which probably worked out for the best because I had a bit of a breakdown. It happens. I don't talk about it- I try not share them too much- just because its not my favorite me. They happen. I'm not glossing over it- its just they are private. There are a lot of feelings that come with have little time bombs in your body and brain and all the unknowns. We don't have to share everything.

So one day when the garage door won't close and I'm late to pick up girls and it's not the sensor, it's not the battery, it just is sucking- I decide to close it manually. because it is easier. And we spend days on and off doing the manual garage door drill- which is a completely novel idea for the kids and I have to explain that back in my day we were the garage door openers- you were deployed once you hit the driveway. It was an honor because you were tall enough to manage. Rite of passage. When Phil gets home- it opens and closes fine. This is how it always goes down. Until Jen is late then it does not work. Now mind you it's a 10 year old garage door opener that gets SIGNIFICANT use. And yes the lil shits slap the button and I may use my elbow a lot because my hands are always full. always full. So when Phil tries to open garage door and pin is missing and now it is broken broken and mildly questions how "WE" may have broken it- Jen completely and utterly loses her shit. Not in a roid rage way but the I'm broken and don't want to handle one more thing kind of way. And this wasn't the first episode this week. There was an unfortunate event involving me just wanting to read the last few chapters of a library book before it expired on my kindle and the entire clan conspiring against me. It happens. I just needed a break. To not be talked to for a minute or 5 or maybe an hour.  And I feel bad because it's these times when we aren't in crisis per say(how the hell is that spelled?) that it tends to hit. I was busy but not frantic, no catastrophes- just normal shit. And it adds up on top of the big stuff and sometimes you get to - the breaking point.

So it's the first weekend of football. And Friday was a really really good day. Because that's what happened after meltdowns sometimes, you release all the crazy and can embrace the suck and also that frees you up to find the good. Phil sees the breaks and pauses football to spend the entire weekend fixing everything from shower heads to sprinkler valves, to garage doors. I feel bad because we should be sitting on the couch doing nothing.  I was relieved to not be packing up to cram 6 bodies in a 2 bedroom cabin with one bathroom no AC and centipedes. I know it's paradise and alternately sitting on the beach isn't a hardship but I was tired. And children still need to eat at the beach and I didn't make it to Costco to get the type 2 diabetes size box o pizza rolls to make life easy. But back to friday- I got to visit with my sister in law and nephews- which like living in paradise- they are a few streets over and we don't get to enjoy them as much as I'd like. SO that was good. And then Phil took me to lunch. Also really good- Did you know we have a Five Guys on the island? Yep we do. Those fries man. yum. Then we came home and I made some snacks and we watched the CU-CSU game and the girls made big blobs of sugar cookie buffaloes look like buffaloes. Yes I may be using food as a coping mechanism. Hence the oven being so much on the radar. We had homemade pizza and watched a movie all together and it just was. These are the moments. The ones worth breaking for - sure idyllic places and experiences on a perfect beach with a stunning sunset are always amazing. Sometimes the perfection is just in the normal broken moment. You have to break a little to know what's worth fixing and what you need to put back together. In the words of the very wise mutant 626-aka Stitch - (which can also fix broken skin...or material- and sometime snitches get them.)

Being the Bigger Person

Lily was my biggest baby. She's always been big for her age, even before she was her own human venturing out in the world. Her size caused many extra appointments and measurements. Sometimes it bothers her, we try to focus on positive self image.

Our house is not big. It is us and comfortable, cozy, quaint, charming, all of those words that people use to describe small spaces.

When I have meeting or calls or just chatting with a friend, unless the kids are at school, there is not a lot of privacy. We often joke that we have 1700 sq. ft and somehow the 6 of us end up in 3 of it. It's a valuable lesson, learning to work in the space you have and making it work for you. It's good for the kids to try and respect boundaries and small spaces and figure out what they really need.

Lily is in the midst of a huge growth spurt. Phillip actually called her slender the other day. After she postured in offense, she took the time to ask what the word meant. I felt kinda bad that one isn't in her lexicon. Yet the smile his definition generated -totally worth it.

The other day Lily complained of a sore throat and runny nose before school. There's been some coughing and the timing's about right- first couple weeks of school, chemo week, these are the times I expect to get a call from the school nurse that she isn't feeling well. We discussed the parameters before she left for school and that it is perfectly possible to make it through a day of school with a bit of allergies or a cold. Fever, diarrhea, puking, all those fun things are for staying home. Sometimes a good rest staves off a tougher cold, so if she really needed to rest we could talk about it- but I've been burned before. An hour of rest and then crazy monkey syndrome- bouncing off walls, wrestling siblings. Like with Phillip sometimes smaller normal sicknesses can escalate quicker in her system as her adrenal struggles to keep up. She is very self aware and tends to milk symptoms from time to time, but she is very good about letting us know exactly what's going on. In detail. At 9:45 I got the call from school. I knew by 10:45 she'd be driving me up the wall, but I went and got her anyway. A little rest sometimes can make a big difference.

When Lily got squirrelly at home, I had her load dishes into the dishwasher. She was less than pleased with that. I had fielded a few calls and she suddenly turned to me and says- you called me big.

Um yeah- I've been calling you big since before you were born. You ARE big. You've grown like 6 inches in a few months.

She says she knows she's big but it hurts her feelings to hear it.

I feel terrible but also defensive. How many times has she picked up a smaller girl her own age and commented on how cute they were? I ALWAYS point out that they may not appreciate having their size constantly be brought up as she does. But I did not want to hurt her feelings.

I explain that I did not mean to hurt her feelings at all and that she is wonderful and to try not to let the word big bother her because it is a really good thing. She stomps away. I am aware this is about dishes, but it is about other things too. I call her back.

Look Lily- you are a big girl. You have always been a big girl and it looks like you will probably always be a big girl. You have grown a lot in a short amount of time. You look good. I am so absolutely tickled I get to call you BIG. I am so glad that I have a Big Lily standing here glaring at me.

8 years ago I didn't know how long I would have you. No one thought it would be this long. You were very sick and very little from the chemo and they said you would probably be short for your age and have some growth problems, we would just face them as they came. Hoping with all hopes we would get to face problems because that would mean you were still there. And here you are, growing and tall and beautiful and it is amazing and it makes me very very happy to get to see you BE BIG.

At which point I'm crying, she's crying, we hug it out and she smiles. She is a bigger person because of the things that were supposed to take away from her. And I will gladly hunt down size 11 shoes for her big old paddle feet. It wasn't so many years ago I exhaustively and painstakingly painted each one of her nails on her much littler feet before every chemo. I painted the nails knowing the nurses might have to get creative with the pulse ox. I packed nail polish remover wipes and fresh bottles of paint just in case. Because I just didn't know how many times I'd be able to paint those toes. It's been been a lot and I can just about compose a mural on her big toes now. Kidding.

And I will smile understandingly as other moms lament each new phase of growth, sure sometimes it does go by rather fast. That is not due to the growing, its usually due to the exterior influence of distraction. I remember the time I needed to cling to the little things, as we do at times now. And we make time for and cherish the BIG things. The big feet, the hunt for clothes that are appropriate for this tween stage and non standard shape. I realize that on our timeline we cherish every milestone that we know was never guaranteed. By being in the moment and immersing in the now I am not missing the moments others want to go back and freeze. I try not to be overwhelmed by the urgency to get to it all at the expense of missing what's right there. Yet we do have to go forward, we are here to grow, to change- ourselves and the world and to be bigger. I hope they find joy in the little things, comfort in who they are in the here and now and always be ready for the BIG things that will come their way.

Steeplechase and Water Handball and the Rea sisters.

Phil loves the Olympics. Anything sports- competition- he's huge fan. He's also a huge fan of America. I like the swimming and gymnastics and bits and pieces here and there. I remember one summer we went to visit his aunt and uncle in Florida and Phil learning to juggle while watching the Olympics in their living room. Apparently that was the last year some record was broken and he reminded me we watched that race in Florida. Shared memory- he keeps those statistics, I can tell you how much garlic is needed in recipes. Hmm, all I remember is him learning to juggle- but I trust him. And yes his ability to juggle weighed heavily into my decision to marry him. And his love for garlic.

Our littles are pretty young in Olympic years, so they know of the Olympics but not all the sports. There is also not a lot of variety in sporting here in Hawaii- so they've really only been exposed to the basics. We are actually very excited to learn about Brazil as their uncle is moving there today. He met a lovely young lady from near Sao Paolo and I'm excited for him to have this adventure.  As I was prepping dinner one night- track was on. And Phil keeps saying- you have Got to watch this. So I obligingly wander over so he knows I am watching. The women are running, running, running- dude this is like watching paint dry- I have dinner to make. Wait for it- hurdle, hurdle, oh no- is that water supposed to be there? Isn't that puddle dangerous? Is this a Rio problem? How is the Olympic committee ok with this? Phil is laughing at me. It's Steeplechase. Hmm. I recognize the word- somehow thought it was related to horse racing- which this kinda seems like. But it's fascinating- they trudge through a puddle and can climb over the hurdles except for the one athlete- she ran right into the hurdle, ooh faceplant in puddle. This is great. How did I not know this was a thing? This could totally be a metaphor for cancering.

 Saturday I was ironing, getting ready for pictures and it occurs to me I haven't ironed in forever. wrinkles are a a part of our lives. It's kinda therapeutic- wrinkle, apply heat, wrinkle gone, progress. Tangible. I'm not too bothered by wrinkles, They add character. But- they would bother me on clothes in pictures- so there I was and Water Polo was on. Lily walks in, what is this water soccer? Phil and I laugh-she continues it can't be water basketball because water basketball has baskets and that's a net like in soccer. Bella hears the laughing and wanders over. What is that water hand ball? I've played handball before and its like that, but that's with water. Kiera- also wanting to participate in the laughter runs downstairs- Kiera- what sport is that? That's Water Polo. And the blonde for the win. She's not really blonde, but she's our blonde and we love her as much as the rest.

It was nice to have the Olympics to watch at chemo yesterday. Sometimes I hate to combine something someone loves with the cancer routine- but then again it becomes a good memory during a tough time. Steeplechase was on-so good for more laughs. There is just always that background fear that it might cause a twinge of sadness down the road- BUT that is when we make jokes to get through. Like at dinner the other night- the brother and sister in law were discussing college with the teen- which I am supremely grateful for. He's had the opportunity to chat with most of his aunts and uncles about their knowledge and choices and gotten some different input that he is more likely to listen to than out of Phil or I. Generally I listen and learn something new- like he was considering UC Davis in CA. My SIL offered to chaperone a visit since she travels to CA for work. Sudden twinge- snarky comment- Eh I've spent enough time at UC Davis- I'm good- you can have him. I caught them off guard and got the look from Phil- that said- I get it Jen but that was harsh. So I should explain.

In 1993 I was sitting in a senior class- don't remember which one and Phil and I were called to the counselor's office. My first thought is shit we are busted because we may have been known to be late to various classes. We had maniacal schedules being one of the first IB classes set to graduate and our teachers were pretty understanding about the stress levels. We didn't have time for a lunch period so we either ate in class or sometimes skipped a period to grab something.

We wander into the office and our good friend Rob was there, he pulls Phil aside and all I hear is, her dad. And I knew. Dad was traveling for work and had left a really strange message on the answering machine the night before and we kinda figured it was either a good business dinner with lots of drinks or he did the equivalent of 1993's butt dialing. It descended on me- that foreboding, I know this feeling- this is when it all goes to shit, again feeling. Our Counselor- a wonderful woman named Donna has my mom on the phone. She's at work and just got the call from Dad's boss. He passed out mid meeting and they took him to the ER. They weren't sure, but we suspected brain tumor. She was making arrangements for us to fly to California. She was weary. I was weary. Because this time we knew. With Bob we didn't really know. But now we knew. And sometimes that is harder.

We flew to UC Davis. They didn't want to let me in ICU to see him because I was a kid. I kinda wanted to throat punch someone and had enough experiences in hospitals at that point to say I've done this before and walk past the nurse. My memories of the time there are sharp and blurry at the same time. My uncles flew in to be with us- the Toms. My mom's Tom and my dad's Tom. They joked and made sure we were fed and watered. The hope was to get dad stable enough to fly home for surgery, but that wasn't possible, he started bleeding and they had to do surgery immediately. Which honestly was probably a blessing because UC Davis is a very good institution. And if Phillip goes there it will complete this bizarre loop. But memories and loss sometimes pop out at you when you least expect it and the mention of UC Davis was one of those moments.

My other profound memories of the time were the skanky hotel we stayed at nearby and the morning walks of shame by a fabulous Alice Cooper drag queen. I mean technically not a drag queen but maybe I don't know- although I had exposure to ER's, ICU's and hospitals- I was unenlightened on the inner workings of the selective sort of professionals that hung out near our temporary UC Davis home. Which also segways into the STD discussion mid hospital stay.

In dad's room, the standard white board- doctor's name- patient notes- today's nurse. Anarea was the day nurse. Dad had the mischievous smile and winked at me when he noticed me studying the board. I had been to California, familiar with a lot of different names. Anarea was different, but not strange to me. The nurse comes in, checks vitals and dad introduces us to Ana. He said we might know her sisters, Di and Gonna. I didn't know anyone in California so I assumed he was joking, but there was that twinge- the beginning of the losing of the mind. I look at Tom, and we are all thinking the same thing. Fucking brain tumor. Ana laughs. Goes over to the white board and adds a line to the second a- turning it into a d. The stem had been wiped off by accident. She has obviously already had this discussion with dad and he lets us know she sees a lot of her sisters in nursing- diarrhea and gonnorhea. And there was dad. The sense of humor, the piece of him we knew dominating the room despite the big part of his frontal lobe now missing. Sometimes you just have to laugh at all the shit because otherwise you might just faceplate in it.

Needless to say I have brain tumor PTSD issues. It is an interesting exercise in urgency and denial. Some days I am ok- other days are sheer panic and terror. I ground myself and focus on the moment and am so grateful I feel good. Whether the energy is artificially induced from the steroids or whatever- I am using it for good and counting it as a blessing. I know so many hate the phrase that everything happens for a reason, but that phrase grounds me and gives me focus. Notice all the active grounding. I don't lose sight of the fact that there may be a reason, I just don't know what it is. Sure it's frustrating. Sometimes the reason doesn't make sense and it isn't good. But I need to believe that this path, this journey has purpose and the only way to travel it is if there is purpose and to say there is no reason- eliminates purpose. I hesitate to call it "getting things in order" because well that feels more terminal than I do right now. It's not nesting because well- the tumor baby I'm growing isn't the little bundle of joy I'm prepping for. I'm still in search of the right term. For now I am going with Living. And for my mom and my dear friends who constantly ask- how are you REALLY? I am really busy and feel better than I have a lot of times in the past 4 years and I try to make the most of it- which I hate to say sometimes is scarier than feeling shitty. Why? Because fates sometimes give you a calm before the storm. But I do not want to waste the calm because sometimes storms blow over and especially if it doesn't. I keep busy because I can and will until I can't. run run run, hurdle, hurdle, pond. And watch out for the Rea sisters.

Picture Perfect

The steroid craziness has leveled off a bit. I can sleep for a few hours a night unassisted. I still end up putting myself in time out a lot with the anxiety/anger management part of it.

We finished up week 2 of school and the excitement of being on time waned. Lily and Bella are both Junior Police Officers at Iroquois - so that means being to school before 7:15 and a good 20-30 minute buffer after school. Kiera had a road trip with her performing group to the Big Island to do Amazing Food Detective. It's a Kaiser sponsored educational skit about healthy eating and exercise. She has a ton of fun with it, but has to miss school to do it. This week's timing was a tough one for her- she had a lot of AP History reading and was exhausted and fell behind. There were tears. And arguments. But she will figure it out. Her solution was to get up at 3 am to do it- being the stellar mom I am- overrode her alarm. I'd rather have her fail a quiz, she needed the sleep. And this is why 15 year olds don't get to go out into the world on their own.  Phillip is a senior. He did some class shuffling and we are talking colleges but he seems pretty stressed about it. We are managing. We really need him to have a driver's license and have a 3 hour chunk to be finished with the driver's ed instructor hold up. The same driver instructor who has cancelled multiple sessions and who now let the state car registration lapse. Yeah. Seriously. Lead by example people.

The week was so normally normal I sat back last night and just smiled. We went out to dinner after our photoshoot at Buffalo wild wings- because when you spend an hour doing make up- you gotta take that on the road and let's face it we are party animals. Each family member was on their phone or the silly gaming system- which is a huge NO-NO in our house. But sometimes even this rules just have to be given a rest- we won't make a habit of it. Everyone was still talking and having fun.

 We got the all clear on Lily's arm on Tuesday- meaning we will watch it but the orthopedic doc really isn't concerned.  Had all the kid dentist appointments on Wednesday- only 1 cavity in Lily- whose mouth is a mess from genetics and chemo- so really not a bad visit. I got back to Physical Therapy on Thursday and had acupuncture for my knees which have been a bit stiff, probably from steroids or all the cleaning I've been doing on the steroids- so from the steroids... I got to visit with my nephews and SIL's sister -which again I'd like to compliment my brother in laws all for having such outstanding choice in women. They all come with pretty cool families too! Thursday we got to visit with a high school friend and her wonderful family at dinner in Koolina. I know a lot of really amazing people and am so grateful when we get to reconnect in human form. Friday night we had Rudy's hot dogs, living room dance party and watched the Olympics. Extraordinarily normal week and it was awesome.

One of the big side effects of steroid use is the weight gain. Big round puffy face. tummy. Never ending carb craving. That is crazy- like pregnancy cravings on steroids. hahaha. So when I went on them and Debbie Leanne, photographer and friend extroidinaire contacted me to schedule our family photos- I knew I had to jump on it before I look like blimp jen. Now it is shallow and I typically don't give a shit- appearances, yada yada- but after awhile it sucks having your body bloom out of your control and not in a good way. I want to look like me. I do not want to be remembered in the sick puffy looking way. Don't want to die either- so balance. And take pictures before I swell up or mort.



My next MRI is Saturday the 20th, I decided we needed to do it before then. Yesterday was the big day. I even practiced putting make up on last week and watched you tube videos and shit. There is this thing called contouring where you look like alien Simba from Lion King and then with a bunch of dabbing and such you camouflage some of the round face ness. That's the kinda thing you don't want to pull out for the first time on game day. Lest one wants to look like a chimney sweep.


Even with practice, it takes time. The getting ready bit. And some mental energy. I actually won the photo shoot through a contest. I tried to share the gift with Phil's family while they were visiting and let's say Deb wasn't having it- she made sure I got the full experience- which includes a conversation with her discovery consultant. I spent 2 different days weeping on the phone with a stranger. I told Phil that and he tried to refuse to speak with her. I told him she wouldn't make him cry. Honestly it was good therapy and it helps them get to know us and what we want. Phil finally talked to her- and didn't shed a tear- my tough lobster and raved about the therapeutic aspects of it. All kinds of therapy-find what works!

Saturday night as I was buffing and blushing in between girls running in and out- I need this- I need that- hair tweaks, makeup tweaks- do I need a bra?(if you have to ask the answer is usually yes).  I think of all the lovely beautiful ladies who do this daily and god love ya for making the world beautiful- I just do not have the stamina. BUT- like all things- when it counts, I'll put the time in and was over all pleased with the results. The Absolute best was when I drew Bella light eyebrows and she squealed in delight- she actually squealed. It was awesome- partly because I remember the mona Lisa chemo phase and it's a defining moment.  And then I wander downstairs and phil is in basketball shorts and a tee shirt chatting with Debbie. WTF! seriously 2 minutes later he is changed and downstairs and we are ready to begin. I think I just logged like 12 hours in shopping, prepping, planning and primping for this- AND 3 MINUTES! And he will look adorably handsome in every shot. it's annoying sometimes.

The shoot doubled as Phillip's senior pictures as well. Each kid got a special interest time with Debbie- but I really wanted to play up Phillip's piano playing and since logistically getting a grand piano or any piano on the beach became a bit of a challenge. So we got creative and the teen soon to be adult- played along fabulously. Sometimes a baby baby grand has to do the trick. Think Schroeder- yeah that's how we roll.

Here, there isn't a huge to do about senior pictures- in order to get a senior pic in the yearbook- you have to go through Lifetouch -schedule a special appointment and it's a bargain at $45. I guess it eliminates some of the wild card factor and haggling over what's appropriate and not since they are plain old school pictures. I guess you can bring an item of flair and get a couple poses- one in cap n gown. But when you have amazing scenery like this 5 minutes from your house- it seems like a shame to not use it.

At one point I glance down on the beach and Phil and Bella are writing on the sand. I guess she had written my name and he added +Phil and it was cute to see them conspiring and their respective footprints.

It was a beautiful night, the wind wasn't too bad- the colors were good and it ended up being a lot of fun. I am really excited to see what Debbie got- I know they will be undoubtedly US. Maybe not technically perfect but perfectly us.

Steroid Deep Thoughts: Undercurrents

There are so many undercurrents in our world right now. Our world. Earth, not just planet Mallory. Undercurrents of politics, violence and upset. I feel like I've had a lot of talks with the kids, with Phil and we are working through some really bigger than us issues.

It's scary as shit. And really hard when you are dealing with tough shit. Sometimes it feels like everyone is blissfully moving along with their lives around you and THAT can be hard enough when you are up to your eyeballs in cancer death threats. It is a choice not to wallow in the only if's. It is a daily affirmation and effort to BE in your now, deal with your shit and not try to compare or look at someone's else's world and somehow rank it all. I would truly like to thank our circumstances for the continual throat punches of reality that take me so far out on our own little island, that I've embraced the perspective. It's not a competition. Like no 2 cancers are the same, neither will anyone's path be. Instead of judging and being pissed someone has what you wish you had- be happy for them. Or just walk away and try to enjoy your life. If you want it- GO for it. If circumstances don't allow, will.not. allow. Then you and you alone have to find your happy. This doesn't mean we always are happy and dang skippy sometimes you have to fake it a bit to make it and fucking settle. By fake it- I mean put on that smile and be a decent human even when you want to barrel through crowds of people screaming profanity. By settle I mean play with the one remaining boob you have left. Define boob as you will.

Other times it feels like everyone is up to their eyeball in their own shit. We have too many people who are struggling, battling through crowds screaming profanity- posting, twittering, snapping, whining how upset they are with everything-Trump sucks, Hillary sucks,  no you suck, stop helicoptering your children, pay more attention to your children, sick of this, sick of that. Voting in this election this year is like having cancer in your brain. It might be ok. Everything might grow and swell and you might have to have surgery and nothing will ever be the same again. Or it might be fucking OK. So what do we do- you clean the house, you teach the kids to be decent humans because THEY ARE our future. We BE decent humans because we are the now. Everyone may ignore us but maybe just maybe someone might be paying attention and take cues from us. BE the changes you want to see, no matter what is going on around you. Do not blindly follow someone else's path with promises of change- it's not YOUR path. You can walk along side them, help them but look around- is this where you want to be going? Your path will be forged by your steps. They might actually be helping you around an undercurrent.  Each one of us has the capacity to make the choice to be calm in the face of crisis. Be the leader that others look to and try to emulate. Do we really want our kids running around posturing violence and puffing up their entitled little chests about how better they are, just because they can? Part of being #Blessed, is not the slactivism, the smug faithless announcement but rather NOT taking the opportunity to share in whatever good fortune you have. Not so blessed is it?

My grandmother existed on a fixed income for decades and she was the most generous person I have ever met.  With her time, her words, her food, her money and always always her prayers. She never taught me these lessons in any sort of core curriculum but the lessons were learned. The woman lost her husband in 1958 to a disease that might as well have been the plague for the stigma attached to it. She raised 5 kids and worked in a time where women simply were not considered competent to do anything but raise kids and even that with some good male supervision. And here we are a mere 60 years later with a woman President candidate and a billionaire.

 I would also like to point out that 8 years ago we elected our first black President. It's completely appalling to me that I have to put words like woman or black and first in front of the word President or anything for that matter except an official document where that identifier is somehow needed. Because we are all people. Somewhere along the line they did something to put themselves on a presidential path- work hard, compromise, make lots of money, investments of some sort. And many would like to blame everything on a single person, the President and have completely lost sight and perspective of the big picture. It is a democracy. There is choice even if so many facets of the system are outdated and broken. It is OUR broken system. The foundation is still solid. If you don't keep up with routine maintenance, you are gonna have to pay for the big repairs or Get up off your ass and fix it. You don't have to go to congress, you don't have to be in politics to make YOUR world a better place. Invest in your family. Your time, your words, your money. Invest in your community. Your time, your words, your money. When you have no time, no words, no money, Then act. Act kind. Act compassionate. Act responsibly. Act like you are not the only person who matters.

Everyone has battles and although it feels like everyone is airing their battles on social media- the ones with the biggest battles are the ones you probably have no idea about. THOSE are the people we all are letting down, those are the ones who do whatever needs to be done, to GET IT DONE. Or they die trying. Which means sometimes their kids don't get 100% of their attention- but their kids get 100% work ethic. There are people who could literally go postal at any second(remember when the post office was the scariest place where someone might lose it? Now planes, schools, theaters, clubs, EVERYWHERE is scary and you can just about guarantee someone might lose it). People are losing control of their anger all around us and it is ridiculous. The violence is ridiculous.

Social Media is like standing on your doorstep and screaming. Your neighbors are gonna hear you. Your friends are gonna hear you. The poor guy just trying to walk his dog is gonna hear you. We have taught ourselves that this is an appropriate way to behave. That everyone is allowed their feelings and actions and to be who they are. Ok. But your feelings and actions do affect other people- you cannot choose how they will interpret them but you can choose what you put out there for them to interpret. And if you don't give a shit what people think- why on earth are you putting it out there if it doesn't make the world a better place? Your world, their world, our world- whichever world- it is the same, it's only different when we think it is. Sometimes the water looks calm. You have no idea what is under the surface. There are undercurrents. They are dangerous because you can't see them. You definitely can not stop them. So you avoid them or you try to keep your ground. If you try to fight them- you are literally just wasting energy. Take that energy and make it positive. It feels better. Sometimes you just have to let the undercurrents be, walk away.

Being at the hospital a lot lately, I see people at their best and their worst. Stress, exhaustion, grief and pain bring out the best or the bring out the worst. I will again say it- because I tell my children- YOU have a CHOICE. Every feeling, every moment you have the ability to make a choice. Sure it's harder when you are tired and stressed. Even if it is in response to something out of control, you choose how to react. When someone is stomping around the vendor yelling at the poor cashier, I want to tell her to stop being an asshole as I watch an older man with unsteady hands trying to pour hot coffee as she flails around near him. Yet I carefully move myself between her and him and hold his cup. Sure I might get burned, but we might both get out of this better off. I don't know why she's there, what she has going on or why she thinks nuking artificial ramen in a styrofoam package for 3 minutes is a safer option health wise than the recommended 1.5 by the cashier. It's not even FOOD.  I do know that my engaging her will not help. She is on her path and it unfortunately bisected mine. I do not want to go down that path. She stomps out. We all live. I don't know if she is having a bad day or just a bad person. But she put a whole bunch of negative out there that I had to throw a bunch of positive on to balance. Hospitals are exhausting. Draining. Any place can be. Share your energy- the good kind, because if you have some to spare- there's usually someone nearby who could use some.

I'm not saying don't vent, don't feel the ick, or ignore the tough stuff. Do not put on the rose colored glasses, unless you need to rock that look. Then rock it until further notice. Just don't throw negative out into the world unless you have a plan for cleaning it up. If you can't try to make the world better for you, why should someone else?  Mind the undercurrents. They could pull you under or change your path. You may not want to take the path it is trying to put you on, but who knows what you will see or do along the way.  And sometimes there might be someone struggling with the undercurrents and they might just see your path and travel with you for a little while.

Day 2-3 Steroid diaries. Shit hits the Fan

I've been bad about journaling and my friend Cheryl likes the daily reports so I figured I'd start with the steroid reports. You know- days and days of me fighting the inner hulk, the tales of insomnia. My friend Murphy well- he and karma(who sometimes is a bitch) seem to be in cahoots.

After a few hours of sleep- I got up and started catching up on nonprofit work. I'm still woefully behind, but I had plans of productivity- the kids go back to school next week- I had all this week to get organized......famous. last. words. 

Tuesday starts out good. Right until Phillip wakes up and wanders into the bathroom. He's 16- I do not inquire as to what goes on in there I just set out water usage and cleanliness guidelines. After awhile I hear the sounds. Those sounds. The puking sounds. Then the explosive sounds. Oh- I see how we are gonna play this Murphy. Awesome. He opens the door- drenched in sweat. No fever. I kinda don't want to go anywhere near him- but it's kinda my job. I ask him about sugars and insulin pump function(there was a small issue with it last night, so if the site goes bad, he could build up ketones which produces ketoacidosis- vomiting, just really bad for the body. Critical and quick. So I test his sugars and ketones. Sugars high, ketones low. Ok. He takes some insulin. This sets the tone of the day- he wants to rest and this means every 2 hours he needs to check blood sugars and ketones. My job is to remind him, aka be the nag. It's in the job description. I remember having a concussion as a kid and only wanting to sleep but not being allowed to- it sucks- but...job description, triage, health, hospital avoidance, yada yada.  

Kiera and I had days of organizing planned- it's easier to start the school year with a little order because it gets busy and hectic fast. We have to run to the post office and the store for bins- after 2 stores we cannot find what we need. Standard. Kiera is texting Phillip and Lily for updates. Phillip is not able to drink without throwing it back up. We are at stop 4, it's time to ditch and take care of the boy- its after noon and he's been puking since this morning. We grabbed chicken noodle soups, jello, ginger ale, maybe a swimsuit for Kiera and a couple school supplies and we were out. Sans bins- the original purpose. But that's just how it goes sometimes.

Phillip is in bed and he looks awful. I know mumbling grunts in response to questions are kinda the norm for teens- but this is more. We are getting to the point I'm gonna have to make some unpopular calls. I take his blood sugar and ketones. 300 and .6. Damn. He can't keep water down, he hasn't peed. damn. Still no fever. I have him give himself some insulin- god bless the pump that does all the calculations for you and your sick kid.  I call Phil first. damn. See I don't have Dr.P's pager in my phone- I usually call the wonderful nurse Drizza and she makes everything all better. Phil says go directly to Dr. P. damn. I know what this means.  After I page her, I start throwing stuff in a bag.  She calls me right back and I explain what's up. She knows we don't call unless it's big. She's already giving residents orders in between asking me questions and my trying to rouse answers out of Phillip.  She tells me what I already know, dehydration is bad, ketones, bad, it's best to stay ahead of this and come in and she's trying to find the easiest way for us. I appreciate it so much because well I don't know if it's the steroids or adrenaline but I'm worried. Usually I avoid the hospital at all costs but I've also learned- sometimes caution does save a lot of pain in the long run. The quickest option she has for us is the ER- she promises that she will call ahead, they will be waiting for us and she will meet us as soon as we get there. She warns me if there is the possibility of admission. I realize this and we both know we are hoping to avoid that. I ((heart)) her. How quick can we be there? Since I've already packed my overnight bag(in order to avoid an overnight visit the overnight bag must be packed and ready- it's a rule)- I tell her if there's no traffic maybe a half an hour. I am smoking crack apparently because I just jinxed the fuck out of this. Yeah I dropped the f-bomb. completely warranted. would do it again. And not mention traffic or estimate being to the hospital in 30 minutes. ever.

I stuff Phillip's supplies in his bag, grab him a sweatshirt, continually tell him to get dressed, like no really, we are leaving, like I know it sucks but we have to- like really I can not do it for you- you are huge- buddy just flipping put a shirt and shorts on and lay on the couch. I grab the emesis basin, line it with paper towels(learned the splashing vomit in the car lesson the hard way....more than once. )Water bottles, towel- Lily helps carry everything to the car. Kiera has ballet, so the littles will be alone for a couple hours. fuck. I forget they are still little and even though they can stay alone for a couple hours, I don't know how long we will be- I can tell they are worried. As we leave the neighborhood- I call Phil to let him know the plan, I call My wonderful sister in law's sister to see if she can take the girls, I call Kiera to make sure she has all the numbers and will lock the door. As we get about halfway to Tripler, traffic stops. Yep I did that. way to go jinx face.

Phillip is hanging in there but the way he is shifting around tells me- vomit is not my only worry here. Not much we can do, I try to talk with him to distract him. It's clearly not helping, he tries to sleep. We get to Tripler well over an hour and a half after planned. I park by the door- where there is no parking- it is truly truly cruel the lack of parking by the ER- but that is a discussion for another time. Phillip says- I have to go and is moving at a slow but determined pace. I throw the emergency lights on- which is my small attempt at signaling- please don't tow me I need to emergently help my son to the bathroom before the shit hits the fan. He makes it. The lady hobbling in front of us is hacking on a level I hope it is seriously not contagious. I get him checked in and the receptionist just hands me his wristband. The noises coming from the bathroom are fairly explosive. The triage nurse peeks out and I shrug- she says to just bring him back when he's done.

When we finally get him over for vitals, the nurse is amazing. Her daughter has diabetes, she knows the drill and asks the right questions, like- is this diabetes sick or does it feel like something else? Phillip says definitely like something else.  Dr. P join us and hugs me and says I'm looking pretty good- which is not to say smelling good because well I'm pretty sure I hadn't showered recently. She mentions she expected us sooner and I explained traffic had other plans. I take the opportunity of Phillip being in capable hands to run and park the car. It is now late enough, parking is not a problem. thank you traffic? Phillip gets some zofran and a sip of water.

A room isn't immediately ready, so we wait a few minutes until Triage 2 where they give him an IV and draw his blood and then take him to a room. I know things move kinda slow from here, which is ok- that is a good sign. When things move fast I get twitchy. The attending stops in and sounds grateful that Dr. P pretty much ordered everything needed and they just had to set it up. I round up some blankets for him and pretty soon he is all hooked up to the machines and some fluids. Within the hour he is starting talk to me again. The fluids helped tremendously, he was pretty dehydrated. The water bottle I grabbed is sweating all over my bag so I ninja a special Koozie for it out of a napkin and Coban wrap. Phillip is not impressed. He is doing better and my role is to hand him his water bottle whenever he reaches- he's reaching more and more. Nurses are in and out- it's right around shift change. His blood work is trickling in, so far so good- no alarms. He doesn't even have ketones. Um yeah well maybe our old glucometer we use for ketones is set to 2011 because the ketone strips I could find expired in 2012 and maybe that might not be the best. The doc shrugs, probably didn't matter, as dehydrated he was, he probably was throwing some. She orders some new strips for us. And some zofran. As soon as he pees and finishes the fluids, we can go. He is ready to go and wants something to eat. what the heck. I'm glad, but dear God. I look at the clock 3 hours- I think that might be our Tripler record. sweet. This ensures that Phil will competitively commandeer the next ER mission in order to beat my time. mwah ha ha. yeah I know, jinxed it.

We stop to get jamba juice and I call and let Phil and the girls know we are on our way. Phil asks Phillip if he wants anything from McDonald's. Phillip looks a little green. He passed the dad test. We make it home knowing it's going to be a long night of every 2 hour blood glucose checks and keeping him hydrated. I am thankful for the steroid energy. We get all the littles into bed and I start the cleaning routine. Laundry, kitchen- I dump out both of the boy's bags, glucometers and such into a bin and proceed to clean and try not to gag. We are lucky if this isn't the plague. Teen boys are gross. We warn the sick child there will be big discussions about this when he is feeling better.

I am feeling exhausted, Phil is drained, I check Phillip's Blood glucose and Ketones are measuring on his glucometer.  I have him give himself some more insulin. I'm wondering if the meter needs to be calibrated but I can't find the darn solution and I'm pretty sure if I did, it would be expired. Damn. Phil says not to worry, it will be fine but I know I won't sleep so I run to the drug store and grab some urine ketone test strips. I feel like I'm out of diabetic crisis/sickness practice. This is a good thing. I don't have much faith in the urine test strips. But more so gonna compare to the glucometer. So on and so for the next few hours. And of course when I get back and wake him to test ketones and sugars, he has a fever. So that's another tally for viral/bug/plague. I finally laid down on the couch and just closed my eyes when Bella boo comes down, her tummy hurts.  Well damn. I don't want a house full of puking, but if it is a bug then I know it has to run it's course and I also then know that Phillip just has a bug. Or that he and petri dish are licking the same plague source. I send her upstairs to get her pillow and I am following her to grab the other emesis basin when she dives into the bathroom. Now is a true proud mom moment- Bella is a notorious bad puker. Like everywhere- you could be holding the bucket under her mouth and she would pull away and splatter everything. She made it to the toilet. Yep. I done good- big milestone.

I grab a ponytail holder and tie her hair back, in a gesture she hopefully will repeat for her sisters or dear friends many many years from now. I get her cleaned up and settled on the couch and go back to clean the bathroom. It's a superficial job until morning as I have to supervise the accuracy of the newest puker and then it's time to check the diabetic. I take the chance to try to sleep next to Bella on the couch, but my head is spinning, my stomach feels off and I hope it's just the adrenaline and steroids and lack of sleep. I drink tons of water. It is Thursday. It is a new day. I can do this. My hands sting already from the incessant hand washing. I really don't want to puke. I think it's probably bad to have that much pressure with a brain tumor in the cerebellum, but I can only do so much.

The rest of the wee hours are a vague blur. I remember Phil getting up for work and saying goodbye, then chasing my steroid dose with some coffee. Good luck stomach. Then setting about to disinfect all common surfaces and loads and loads and loads of laundry. I called to cancel my ECHO which dang- gotta reschedule that. I call nurse Drizza to check in and ask about the worthlessness of urine ketone strips. She always makes me feel like I'm not an idiot, I appreciate that. By midmorning Phillip perked up and was laughing hysterically over some silly internet something- Lily helped me clean her and Bella's room, Kiera remained quarantined in her room- she doesn't DO sick. I texted my Sister in law with tons and tons of apologies that we may have exposed them to the plague. So even though it completely sucks to be on steroids and have 2 sick kids- their bathrooms are a level of clean they have not seen in awhile. It is a bit empowering to know that I still can function in normal crisis, albeit with performance enhancing drugs. And somewhere in there Phil came home from a really long day at work and it hit. The what on earth will I ever do without this woman? Will it ever get easier? But mostly- WHAT THE FUCK. Because part and parcel- it's normal sick shit. It happens- people get sick all the time. But during a chemo week after a really long ass few weeks- it just slams into you sometimes. Was it the hardest of weeks- nah. Top 10- not even. It just tends to be cumulative and you get tired. And sometimes you want to get bitter or pissed, but then you realize as always - it. could. be worse. So instead of grabbing the bleach spray, I grab the husband and we go to bed and although he sleeps, my mind won't rest but I know he needs me there- so I stay.