I had a fork day.
Funny thing forks. They're useful, but can be painful. They're often quite decorative, while truly meant to be merely functional. Forks, or a version thereof, are used by all cultures, all races, in all corners of the world - but some people may never have seen some kinds of them. There are shrimp forks, salad forks, dinner forks, and cheese forks. There are silver ones, pewter ones, gold ones, and tin ones. They can be large, small, 4 pronged or two. They can match, contrast, compliment or distract. The fork - you never knew how many forms it can come in.
Forks can describe stress, "Stick a fork in me, I'm done." They can describe the level of frustration you are reaching, "One more minute of this, and I'm going to stick a fork in my eye!" They can even be a suggestion to a certain individual who may be causing you undue stress, "Oh go fork yourself!"
Forks can deliver life-giving nutrition to an elderly patient in the hand of a loving caregiver. They can bring waves of pleasure as they offer a decadent 4 tier chocolate-mousse cake to the lips of a hormonal woman. Forks can bring comfort in the kitchen of your best friend, and spark wonderful memories at your mother's table. They can be your ally or your sworn enemy, depending on what they carry your way.
Then, there is the proverbial "fork" in the road. A "fork" brings with it imminent prospects. You can choose to go this way, or that. A "fork" in a road suggests possibilities begging to be taken. You can veer one way to bliss, or another way to torment. Even if you know your direction ahead of time, at the least - a "fork" provides a chance to pause and reflect. As a kitchen fork brings food for life, a "fork" in the road, can bring a chance to feed your soul.
I had a fork day.
On the diet front, my fork was rather kind to me today. It fed me eggs and onions for breakfast, and a healthy taco salad for lunch. Dinner was grabbed at a meeting. Even the plastic fork was kind to me today; it fed me a small and perfect-for-weight-loss salad, rather than the delicious, diet-crushing pizza my fingers were gunning for. You see, I've had a bit of an epiphany. My fingers like fattening foods! Cookies, chips, candy, bagels...they are definitely devotees of the digit. Salads and steaks, those are the food of the fork. All these years, I didn't have a problem with my eating habits...I had a habit of eating with the wrong delivery system! Hah!
Then, there's that most fascinating of forks, the kind you find right in the middle of your path. As I told you earlier, my path has been a bit strewn with Rocks these past few days. A Rock isn't like a fork. A Rock stands in your way, and forces you from your desired path. A fork, gives you a choice - a reason to consider the path you're on.
Today, I ran into a fork... My fork was in the form of a friend I've lost touch with in recent months. This friend has had a year of unbelievable heartache and loss. This friend has had a Rock dropped on her, and yet, she is moving down her path. My friend gave me a gift tonight, and she never knew she did it. She gave me a giant fork.
Yesterday, as I arrived at a meeting at our Children's Hospital, I was once again forced to pay to valet park. It seems small, but its more than a mild irritation. I volunteer my time on several hospital committees, speak often for the hospital's foundation, and spend more than enough days visiting the hospital for my daughter's medical needs. While I don't mind paying to park for normal hospital trips, it seriously rubs me wrong that I have been paying a tremendous amount of money for the privilage of volunteering my time to help the hospital. Never mind the 90 minute round trip to get to the hospital to attend the meeting, or the obnoxious amount of money we feed into our van's gas guzzling engine. Those are my fault for moving to the suburbs and having a brood that requires a van. But paying to park so I can serve the hospital...ooh, it irritates me.
So here I am, fuming, as I burst into my meeting. I was more than a bit rash, and I'm embarrassed to admit, more than a bit boisterous about my frustration. I did apologize later for my ranting, but the fact is, I did pretty good stress-fueled monologue. I rather beat the messengers, and it certainly wasn't any of their faults that I'm worried about Avalon or feel like I'm drowning in a list of financial, housekeeping, and school issues.
Enter, my fork. Tonight, I was, again, at the hospital for a meeting. (different committee) After the meeting, I shared a lovely conversation with my Fork friend. She was at yesterday's meeting, as well as today's. As we sat and tried to shorthand our lives from the past few months, she began to show me how narrow my path had become. In the midst of the heartache of losing a child, she has still managed to work, tend her other child, and continuously reach out to other medical families in need. She's helped other grieving families as they cross the threshold no parent wants to imagine. She's moving forward and reaching out - through the stress. Wow...she really started cutting those trees down for my road.
Then, she went and really did it. As we climbed in her car so she could ferry me to mine, she explained that after the fateful meeting yesterday, she had stayed late to work on solving my parking dilemma. Wham! She tossed a fork in my path.
The fork she created for me gave me two options, continue being a self-absorbed twit while ranting and raving...or walk the other way, and think about someone else. With a gift like that, I could barely even pause to reflect - I had to sprint down the good side. To do anything else, would have been an insult to her kindness. She gave me a whopper of a fork, and had no idea she'd done it.
Interesting, that a fork can help you destroy a Rock. Apparantly, finding the Fork, can sometimes shorten the path around life's Rocks. I've had giant Rocks tossed my way this week. It was nice to run into a Fork for a change.
I had a fork day.
And it was good.
- Alicia - the Crazy Cancer Mom
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
September 18, 2007
Back to semi-normalcy. I'm actually writing this on the day it describes. That means I must be slowly dragging myself out of my cabin/stress stupor, nearly ready to re-join the rat races. Wonder if running in the rat races burns any calories?
The scale is still showing the burdens of my weekend excess - still at -10 pounds. You'd think I'd be ecstatic. -10 pounds in 18 days really isn't bad. It just feels bad because I know I "lost" ground over the weekend. Funny expression that. How does "gaining" weight turn into "losing" ground? Kind of describes life in the middle of a massive attempted change. Down becomes up, and forward is better described as back. Like learning to go "back to basics", or moving "down the corporate ladder to move up your happiness quotient". Its all a bit twisted. A reminder that just when you thought you had it all figured out - you learn how little you really know.
Today I can report I learned two new things. One, once you have fallen off of (or been knocked off of) the dietary trail - it totally sucks trying to claw your way back onto it. The cravings, wants, and mind-numbing food fetishes rear their ugly heads, bigger than ever! Its like they get together and decide to extract revenge for temporarily leaving them. If you dare to give them the tiniest in-road to your psyche - they attempt to grab your conscience mind with both hands and hold on with hurricane-prowess. I have battled craving demons today that would have brought lesser beasts to their knees. Thankfully, my knees are weak because my keester is so big - I wasn't able to cave in to their demands easily...
And the second thing I learned? Learning to admit you're in over your head - helps. I am unabashedly admitting that I'm currently drowning in to-do lists, deadlines, and things people need from me. By wallowing in a bit of self-pity and whining to my hubby, I've been trying to release a few of those all-I-want-is-Calgon-and-dark-chocolate demons. Every time I feel like I've let someone or some deadline down - I feel the pull of the PayDay (candybar, that is). But several times today, when I honestly said to someone, I'm out. I'm over-done, I'm in-too-deep..it let me close that 'fridge door with nothing (or something healthy) in my hand.
If I am guilty of any indulgence today, it was watermelon. After a fascinating, but horribly inconveniant, meeting today - I let myself eat several pieces of sugary sweet, incredible watermelon. It may possibly be enough to keep me from losing any weight today - but I consider it a victory over what I would have done last month. My normal m.o. would have been a trip to Wendy's for a frosty friend for the ride home. I think watermelon is a fair-enough substitute. I long for the day I need no substitute - but I'm a reasonably honest woman, that day may be millenia away...
For now, I go to bed secure in the knowledge that my worst enemy today was watermelon. Considering I dreamed about eating a giant chocolate bar in my daughter's doctor's office last night - I'd say watermelon ranks as a Victory! Listen, when your rear-end is the size of mine - you take victories where you can find them...
Onward and upward! Or, forward and downward - as the case may be. May I march on, and the scale trend down. Oh puh-leasee, may it trend down again....
- Alicia - the Crazy Cancer Mom
The scale is still showing the burdens of my weekend excess - still at -10 pounds. You'd think I'd be ecstatic. -10 pounds in 18 days really isn't bad. It just feels bad because I know I "lost" ground over the weekend. Funny expression that. How does "gaining" weight turn into "losing" ground? Kind of describes life in the middle of a massive attempted change. Down becomes up, and forward is better described as back. Like learning to go "back to basics", or moving "down the corporate ladder to move up your happiness quotient". Its all a bit twisted. A reminder that just when you thought you had it all figured out - you learn how little you really know.
Today I can report I learned two new things. One, once you have fallen off of (or been knocked off of) the dietary trail - it totally sucks trying to claw your way back onto it. The cravings, wants, and mind-numbing food fetishes rear their ugly heads, bigger than ever! Its like they get together and decide to extract revenge for temporarily leaving them. If you dare to give them the tiniest in-road to your psyche - they attempt to grab your conscience mind with both hands and hold on with hurricane-prowess. I have battled craving demons today that would have brought lesser beasts to their knees. Thankfully, my knees are weak because my keester is so big - I wasn't able to cave in to their demands easily...
And the second thing I learned? Learning to admit you're in over your head - helps. I am unabashedly admitting that I'm currently drowning in to-do lists, deadlines, and things people need from me. By wallowing in a bit of self-pity and whining to my hubby, I've been trying to release a few of those all-I-want-is-Calgon-and-dark-chocolate demons. Every time I feel like I've let someone or some deadline down - I feel the pull of the PayDay (candybar, that is). But several times today, when I honestly said to someone, I'm out. I'm over-done, I'm in-too-deep..it let me close that 'fridge door with nothing (or something healthy) in my hand.
If I am guilty of any indulgence today, it was watermelon. After a fascinating, but horribly inconveniant, meeting today - I let myself eat several pieces of sugary sweet, incredible watermelon. It may possibly be enough to keep me from losing any weight today - but I consider it a victory over what I would have done last month. My normal m.o. would have been a trip to Wendy's for a frosty friend for the ride home. I think watermelon is a fair-enough substitute. I long for the day I need no substitute - but I'm a reasonably honest woman, that day may be millenia away...
For now, I go to bed secure in the knowledge that my worst enemy today was watermelon. Considering I dreamed about eating a giant chocolate bar in my daughter's doctor's office last night - I'd say watermelon ranks as a Victory! Listen, when your rear-end is the size of mine - you take victories where you can find them...
Onward and upward! Or, forward and downward - as the case may be. May I march on, and the scale trend down. Oh puh-leasee, may it trend down again....
- Alicia - the Crazy Cancer Mom
September 17 - evening
I'm baaack! I figured it was easiest to divide this day into two parts - A) Before the big doctor's appointment, and B) After the big appt. Welcome to part B) The After. (see previous post for description of the weekend and what led up to this)
Today was a re-check with Avalon's neuro-opthalmologist. This appointment is the reason Avalon had the LP (lumbar puncture) on Thursday Sept 13. I wanted the neuro-optho to know exactly what Avalon's spinal pressure was when she looked at her eyes - no guessing this time.
The good news - Avalon's eyes are fantastic! The doctor said they look better than she ever thought they could. Wahoo! The better news is that it appears we have finally "beaten" the brain at the fluid game. We have finally reached a point with the shunt that its keeping up with the brain enough to allow her optic nerves to return to normal. Double wahoo! Bad news - the protein in the CSF could be as bad as I feared. Quadruple Boo Hoo...
As I wrote previously, normal protein levels in CSF are 14-45, Avalon had 89. High protein can indicate shunt infection (Avalon has a shunt in her brain), de-mylenation of nerves (think like in MS), auto-immune disease, and a few other ickies. Protein in CSF makes the CSF like "sludge" - very thick. If the protein level gets too high, it can clog her shunt - causing shunt failure (which can quickly kill her). So, the neuro-optho is not happy and being very pro-active. The neuro-optho thinks that Avalon's protein is from inflammation. Most probably, because Avalon's body is "angry" that it has a foreign object in it. The other most likely thing is that Avalon may have developed an auto-immune disorder. (EX: rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, etc).
For now, the neuro-optho has ordered an enormous bloodpanel to look for blood indicators of generalized inflammation - and to look for indicators of pretty much any auto-immune disease she could dream up. She ordered tests for several diseases that "only adults" are supposed to be able to get - because Avalon's pseudo-tumor is supposed to be only in adults too. Best case scenario: no evidence of auto-immune disease, positive presence of inflammation indicators in blood, and we treat with low doses of non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (Dapsone). Worst case #1: auto-immune disease and we have a whole new batch of crud to deal with. Worst case #2: her body is rejecting the shunt - and she would have to go on anti-rejection meds like a transplant patient.
Craziest part? We can't test to see what's going on in the CSF. Each LP"stirs up" the CSF. Any trauma from the LP can introduce blood into the spinal fluid, thereby adding extra protein to it and making the whole problem worse. So, we now have to avoid LP's and hope we can solve the problem - with no way to see if we have. ACK!
And just how does all of this medical mumbo jumbo translate to my diet? Hmmm, let me try to figure out how to explain it. I guess the best description would be rocks. Big, ugly, really heavy - Rocks. I'm trying hard to stay on the diet path, and I feel like I keep running into rocks. I didn't put the rocks there, but I can't move them out of my path either. I keep having to go around them, and its making staying on-course more than a tad bit difficult.
Before the doctor's appointment, I had already seen the misery of the scales. I already knew my weekend of debauchery had brought me home with 3 pounds more than I left with. This was Rock #1, the I've-already-gained-wieght-back-so-I-might-as-well-give-up-Rock. I ran smack into Rock #1, and lost the fight. I couldn't help but eat that last bite of the forbidden brownie that had been lurking in my pantry.
Running into Rock #1 and losing the fight, threw me headlong into Rock #2, the I-just-screwed-up-and-ate-something-bad-so-I-might-as-well-eat-more-Rock. While I did run headfirst into Rock #2, I was able to soften the blow a bit with a previous semi-intelligent food purchase. Rock #2 rattled my brain convincing me that I needed carbs, carbs, carbs! (another weakness to my stress sirens). The call of the carbs was so LOUD, I gave in and ate this god-forsaken allergy-free, wheat-free, dirt-tasting cereal I'd bought for the weekend trip. I mean, I was desperate. This stuff was AWFUL, but I just had to have cereal. Criminy - stress has a life all its own.
After reeling from Rocks #1 and #2, I headed off to the fated doctor's appointment. Suffice it to say, her news brought the biggest boulder yet, ROCK #3. Depending on how long I look at Rock #3, it can sometimes seem to shrink, and sometimes look 20 stories tall, and three leagues wide. Funny though, I seem to be handling Rock #3 the best. Maybe its the head injuries I sustained from Rocks #1 and #2, but over all - I'm starting to forge a path around #3. Believe me, its SLLOOOWWW going. Every inch I make it around Rock #3, there is a hideous stress scream that is begging me over to the dark side. The screams have made me open and shut the 'fridge 1001 times this evening, but at least I haven't been removing things from it - just wasting electricity looking into it wistfully.
I believe, if I can make it around Rock #3 in one piece, with some semblance of sanity in place, I may actually have a chance at surviving this path. Maybe, someday, I'll learn how to dynamite those stupid rocks and avoid them altogether...
Wow, wouldn't that be lovely?
Crazier than normal, Cancer Mom, Alicia
Today was a re-check with Avalon's neuro-opthalmologist. This appointment is the reason Avalon had the LP (lumbar puncture) on Thursday Sept 13. I wanted the neuro-optho to know exactly what Avalon's spinal pressure was when she looked at her eyes - no guessing this time.
The good news - Avalon's eyes are fantastic! The doctor said they look better than she ever thought they could. Wahoo! The better news is that it appears we have finally "beaten" the brain at the fluid game. We have finally reached a point with the shunt that its keeping up with the brain enough to allow her optic nerves to return to normal. Double wahoo! Bad news - the protein in the CSF could be as bad as I feared. Quadruple Boo Hoo...
As I wrote previously, normal protein levels in CSF are 14-45, Avalon had 89. High protein can indicate shunt infection (Avalon has a shunt in her brain), de-mylenation of nerves (think like in MS), auto-immune disease, and a few other ickies. Protein in CSF makes the CSF like "sludge" - very thick. If the protein level gets too high, it can clog her shunt - causing shunt failure (which can quickly kill her). So, the neuro-optho is not happy and being very pro-active. The neuro-optho thinks that Avalon's protein is from inflammation. Most probably, because Avalon's body is "angry" that it has a foreign object in it. The other most likely thing is that Avalon may have developed an auto-immune disorder. (EX: rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, etc).
For now, the neuro-optho has ordered an enormous bloodpanel to look for blood indicators of generalized inflammation - and to look for indicators of pretty much any auto-immune disease she could dream up. She ordered tests for several diseases that "only adults" are supposed to be able to get - because Avalon's pseudo-tumor is supposed to be only in adults too. Best case scenario: no evidence of auto-immune disease, positive presence of inflammation indicators in blood, and we treat with low doses of non-steroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (Dapsone). Worst case #1: auto-immune disease and we have a whole new batch of crud to deal with. Worst case #2: her body is rejecting the shunt - and she would have to go on anti-rejection meds like a transplant patient.
Craziest part? We can't test to see what's going on in the CSF. Each LP"stirs up" the CSF. Any trauma from the LP can introduce blood into the spinal fluid, thereby adding extra protein to it and making the whole problem worse. So, we now have to avoid LP's and hope we can solve the problem - with no way to see if we have. ACK!
And just how does all of this medical mumbo jumbo translate to my diet? Hmmm, let me try to figure out how to explain it. I guess the best description would be rocks. Big, ugly, really heavy - Rocks. I'm trying hard to stay on the diet path, and I feel like I keep running into rocks. I didn't put the rocks there, but I can't move them out of my path either. I keep having to go around them, and its making staying on-course more than a tad bit difficult.
Before the doctor's appointment, I had already seen the misery of the scales. I already knew my weekend of debauchery had brought me home with 3 pounds more than I left with. This was Rock #1, the I've-already-gained-wieght-back-so-I-might-as-well-give-up-Rock. I ran smack into Rock #1, and lost the fight. I couldn't help but eat that last bite of the forbidden brownie that had been lurking in my pantry.
Running into Rock #1 and losing the fight, threw me headlong into Rock #2, the I-just-screwed-up-and-ate-something-bad-so-I-might-as-well-eat-more-Rock. While I did run headfirst into Rock #2, I was able to soften the blow a bit with a previous semi-intelligent food purchase. Rock #2 rattled my brain convincing me that I needed carbs, carbs, carbs! (another weakness to my stress sirens). The call of the carbs was so LOUD, I gave in and ate this god-forsaken allergy-free, wheat-free, dirt-tasting cereal I'd bought for the weekend trip. I mean, I was desperate. This stuff was AWFUL, but I just had to have cereal. Criminy - stress has a life all its own.
After reeling from Rocks #1 and #2, I headed off to the fated doctor's appointment. Suffice it to say, her news brought the biggest boulder yet, ROCK #3. Depending on how long I look at Rock #3, it can sometimes seem to shrink, and sometimes look 20 stories tall, and three leagues wide. Funny though, I seem to be handling Rock #3 the best. Maybe its the head injuries I sustained from Rocks #1 and #2, but over all - I'm starting to forge a path around #3. Believe me, its SLLOOOWWW going. Every inch I make it around Rock #3, there is a hideous stress scream that is begging me over to the dark side. The screams have made me open and shut the 'fridge 1001 times this evening, but at least I haven't been removing things from it - just wasting electricity looking into it wistfully.
I believe, if I can make it around Rock #3 in one piece, with some semblance of sanity in place, I may actually have a chance at surviving this path. Maybe, someday, I'll learn how to dynamite those stupid rocks and avoid them altogether...
Wow, wouldn't that be lovely?
Crazier than normal, Cancer Mom, Alicia
September 17, 2007
Wow! Has it actually been 3days since I've pestered you?! Whew...worlds can blow apart in 3 days... I suppose I have some back-tracking to do. Sit back, get comfy - this may take a while.
First of all, when last we met, I was giddy as a 6 year old on Christmas morning. We were packing like crazed chickens, trying to get to a cabin to meet the owner at the correct time. The cabin was the brainchild and heart wish of an amazing man, whom sadly - we will never have the opportunity to thank. Larry Joseph lost his battle with colon cancer nearly three years ago...and the world lost a living angel. After facing cancer himself, Larry couldn't stop thinking of children with cancer - and how their families cope with the stress. He dreamed up Chapel Hill House. And in the few short years he managed to fight to stay here - he made his dream a reality. Chapel Hill House is a restored 1835 log cabin that sits on 70 acres of prairies and woods. It welcomes pediatric cancer families for a weekend of family bonding and soul-filling respite. Larry's wife, Annie, welcomes you to this magical retreat with all the love of a grandmother, and the understanding of your best friend. I will write at length about our stay at some other time - but for now, you just needed to know where we were headed last Friday. (http://chapelhillhouse.org/Chapel%20Hill%20House/Main.html)
What I didn't know as I typed my quick we're-off-to-have-fun note to you, is that within minutes, I would find a piece of paper that could potentially change our world, again. As I ransacked a plastic bag from Thursday's hospital visit, I found a lab print-out from Avalon's procedure. When I had asked the nurse to print lab results for me, I had really only been looking for white blood cell counts - and hadn't paid any attention to other numbers. Friday, as I unfolded the lab sheets, I realized there were three papers, instead of the customary two. The third paper had the beginning of the lab results for Avalon's Cerebral Spinal Fluid (CSF). While most results were "Pending" - a few were already in. Avalon's CSF contained nearly twice the highest "normal" amount of protein. Blood values are given in ranges. CSF protein content is considered "normal" if its between 15-45. Avalon's was 89.
Once I saw the results, I ran upstairs, booted up the computer and did quick searches for elevated protein in CSF. The options for explanations were not pleasant. I put a call in to our nurse practitioner, and asked her to please phone us and, in effect, "pat me on the hand" and tell me I was a worry wart. No dice. She did call back - but she said she was also concerned. We settled on the plan to have the NP talk to our attending oncologist on Monday, and I would consult with Avalon's neuro-opthalmologist at her appointment on Monday.
To say I headed off for my weekend of "relaxation" in anything but a "relaxed" mood, would rather be like saying the Titanic got a bit wet. I was a certifiable basket case. Poor Annie, as she greeted us and walked around the grounds teaching us about her beautiful gift to cancer families, she made the collasal mistake of asking how Avalon is doing. Blip - flood gates opened. I managed to rein it in, and blame it on the ragweed - but I nearly burst several gaskets trying to pretend everything was OK.
That's the thing about Chapel Hill House, though. As the weekend wore on, the house really did work its magic on me. I was able to let go of the panic, and find my resolve again. There really was a deep, mystifying presence there. I left ready to fight - not fighting to breathe.
I do, however, need to admit a few shortcomings. In my last post, I shared my "Declaration of War". I must now admit, that in every war...there are a few casualties. I took a pretty major hit at Chapel Hill.... While the Battle of the Bulge is far from over - you might say I "lost a hill" on the Hill. Or rather, I gained a bit more to battle with. Shockingly, Friday morning, the scales tipped at a whopping -13 pounds! How's that for amazing? Don't be too impressed...this morning showed the full extent of my battle fatigue...back to only -10. Apparantly, my previous rantings about stress were dead on - it does, indeed, tend to affect my "bottom" line.
Odd thing is, I didn't really overeat at Chapel Hill. I just made poor food choices. I know no one probably believes me that I've lost so much weight so quickly by simply avoiding the foods I'm allergic too. I was beginning to doubt myself. I even questioned my hubby about potentially sabotaging the scales to "boost" my ego! Nope. Chapel Hill was the proof in the pudding. I gained those 3 pounds in 3 days, by eating (you won't believe this) 4 sugar cookies, 2 pieces of sourdough bread, 1 piece of seeded rye bread, 1 hot dog bun, and 3 s'mores. How insane is that?! The rest of what I ate: tacos, eggs for breakfast, etc - were the same things I'd been eating at home, while the weight was falling off. But my body hates wheat and sugar so much - that those few indulgences grabbed calories like a sailor grabs whiskey - and held on for dear life.
Am I disappointed about the pounds? Well, duh - it stinks to see the numbers go higher! Am I going to beat myself with a wet noodle over it? Heck no! First of all, noodles have wheat and my ridiculous body would figure out how to grab calories from the lashing. Second of all, I'm human! I managed to control myself and not go hog-wild - and for that, I'm proud. What I wanted to do was hole up in a corner, suck down all the chocolate in the 'fridge and every homemade cookie in the container, and sugar myself into a stress-free-stupor. What I did was enjoy a few decadent things and allow myself only a small amount of time to worry - while finding that special place of pure joy being with my family.
OK, so a few cookies isn't nirvana to most people. And a few extra pounds to lose (AGAIN) is a bit of a pain. The truth is, I think the weekend taught me everything Larry had envisioned it could. It taught me to enjoy every second of life, and learn to accept the bad as well as the good - for they both mean Life.
In the next post for Sept 17 - I'll finish filling in some cracks in the story...
Hang in there, I'm mentally and bloggerly getting caught up...
Hugs!
Crazy Cancer Mom
First of all, when last we met, I was giddy as a 6 year old on Christmas morning. We were packing like crazed chickens, trying to get to a cabin to meet the owner at the correct time. The cabin was the brainchild and heart wish of an amazing man, whom sadly - we will never have the opportunity to thank. Larry Joseph lost his battle with colon cancer nearly three years ago...and the world lost a living angel. After facing cancer himself, Larry couldn't stop thinking of children with cancer - and how their families cope with the stress. He dreamed up Chapel Hill House. And in the few short years he managed to fight to stay here - he made his dream a reality. Chapel Hill House is a restored 1835 log cabin that sits on 70 acres of prairies and woods. It welcomes pediatric cancer families for a weekend of family bonding and soul-filling respite. Larry's wife, Annie, welcomes you to this magical retreat with all the love of a grandmother, and the understanding of your best friend. I will write at length about our stay at some other time - but for now, you just needed to know where we were headed last Friday. (http://chapelhillhouse.org/Chapel%20Hill%20House/Main.html)
What I didn't know as I typed my quick we're-off-to-have-fun note to you, is that within minutes, I would find a piece of paper that could potentially change our world, again. As I ransacked a plastic bag from Thursday's hospital visit, I found a lab print-out from Avalon's procedure. When I had asked the nurse to print lab results for me, I had really only been looking for white blood cell counts - and hadn't paid any attention to other numbers. Friday, as I unfolded the lab sheets, I realized there were three papers, instead of the customary two. The third paper had the beginning of the lab results for Avalon's Cerebral Spinal Fluid (CSF). While most results were "Pending" - a few were already in. Avalon's CSF contained nearly twice the highest "normal" amount of protein. Blood values are given in ranges. CSF protein content is considered "normal" if its between 15-45. Avalon's was 89.
Once I saw the results, I ran upstairs, booted up the computer and did quick searches for elevated protein in CSF. The options for explanations were not pleasant. I put a call in to our nurse practitioner, and asked her to please phone us and, in effect, "pat me on the hand" and tell me I was a worry wart. No dice. She did call back - but she said she was also concerned. We settled on the plan to have the NP talk to our attending oncologist on Monday, and I would consult with Avalon's neuro-opthalmologist at her appointment on Monday.
To say I headed off for my weekend of "relaxation" in anything but a "relaxed" mood, would rather be like saying the Titanic got a bit wet. I was a certifiable basket case. Poor Annie, as she greeted us and walked around the grounds teaching us about her beautiful gift to cancer families, she made the collasal mistake of asking how Avalon is doing. Blip - flood gates opened. I managed to rein it in, and blame it on the ragweed - but I nearly burst several gaskets trying to pretend everything was OK.
That's the thing about Chapel Hill House, though. As the weekend wore on, the house really did work its magic on me. I was able to let go of the panic, and find my resolve again. There really was a deep, mystifying presence there. I left ready to fight - not fighting to breathe.
I do, however, need to admit a few shortcomings. In my last post, I shared my "Declaration of War". I must now admit, that in every war...there are a few casualties. I took a pretty major hit at Chapel Hill.... While the Battle of the Bulge is far from over - you might say I "lost a hill" on the Hill. Or rather, I gained a bit more to battle with. Shockingly, Friday morning, the scales tipped at a whopping -13 pounds! How's that for amazing? Don't be too impressed...this morning showed the full extent of my battle fatigue...back to only -10. Apparantly, my previous rantings about stress were dead on - it does, indeed, tend to affect my "bottom" line.
Odd thing is, I didn't really overeat at Chapel Hill. I just made poor food choices. I know no one probably believes me that I've lost so much weight so quickly by simply avoiding the foods I'm allergic too. I was beginning to doubt myself. I even questioned my hubby about potentially sabotaging the scales to "boost" my ego! Nope. Chapel Hill was the proof in the pudding. I gained those 3 pounds in 3 days, by eating (you won't believe this) 4 sugar cookies, 2 pieces of sourdough bread, 1 piece of seeded rye bread, 1 hot dog bun, and 3 s'mores. How insane is that?! The rest of what I ate: tacos, eggs for breakfast, etc - were the same things I'd been eating at home, while the weight was falling off. But my body hates wheat and sugar so much - that those few indulgences grabbed calories like a sailor grabs whiskey - and held on for dear life.
Am I disappointed about the pounds? Well, duh - it stinks to see the numbers go higher! Am I going to beat myself with a wet noodle over it? Heck no! First of all, noodles have wheat and my ridiculous body would figure out how to grab calories from the lashing. Second of all, I'm human! I managed to control myself and not go hog-wild - and for that, I'm proud. What I wanted to do was hole up in a corner, suck down all the chocolate in the 'fridge and every homemade cookie in the container, and sugar myself into a stress-free-stupor. What I did was enjoy a few decadent things and allow myself only a small amount of time to worry - while finding that special place of pure joy being with my family.
OK, so a few cookies isn't nirvana to most people. And a few extra pounds to lose (AGAIN) is a bit of a pain. The truth is, I think the weekend taught me everything Larry had envisioned it could. It taught me to enjoy every second of life, and learn to accept the bad as well as the good - for they both mean Life.
In the next post for Sept 17 - I'll finish filling in some cracks in the story...
Hang in there, I'm mentally and bloggerly getting caught up...
Hugs!
Crazy Cancer Mom
Friday, September 14, 2007
I Declare War
***It's Friday, September 14th. My hardworking hubby, 4 tax deductions and myself are running around like crazed circus clowns throwing miscellaneous items into mismatched bags. We are heading out the door for a weekend stay at a remote cabin that is donated to a local ped cancer charity. We've NEVER gone away like this as a family. Not once. Since Avalon's diagnosis, we've gone two places, Disney for her Make A Wish trip, and two weeks ago - to a group camp with other cancer families. We are actually going away...just us...just to be together. I CAN'T WAIT!!!!!! I'm downright giddy....
Since I won't be able to pester you all for a few days....I'm going to share something I've been saving. I wrote the following essay, the last time I lost a tremendous amount of weight (40 lbs). BTW, the last time, was right before Avalon was diagnosed.... Hmm..wonder why I gained it back?
Anyway, here is my little offering, "Declaration of War". I hope you get a giggle or two.
DECLARATION OF WAR
By Alicia Hall
OK, that's it. I've officially declared war on my thighs.
I passed a store window today and turned to see who the fat lady behind me was, only to find she was me. Something's got to give when you can follow yourself and not know it. It's dad-blasted amazing how in my mirror at home, I'm still 17 and svelte. Snow White's step mom must have really had something after all.
The problem with this declaration, is the length of time required for victory. I know I lost my territory slowly and gradually. But let's face it, we all want to take the hill on the first day of battle. The person who could invent a one-day nonstop anti-fat device, would own the world. We wouldn't have to be greedy. The device could be a one shot deal. You pork up again, it's up to you, babe. But gee, don't we all deserve the chance to be stupid at least once in our life?
The way I see it, I'm really not overweight. I'm just 3 feet too short. Vertically challenged, so to speak. If I were 10’ 6" tall, I’d be darn svelte. Yea, that's it. I’d be a 10’ 6" bikini model...
Fine, you got me. My malfunctioning gland is my brain. Truth is; I love food! I adore food. High fat, low fat, who cares? It's food and therefore worthy of my adoration. Chocolate, of course, is in a category of its own. Chocolate transcends classification as mere food. It assumes more of a godlike stature. Chocolate is to be revered, celebrated. As such, it must be partaken of regularly to ensure spiritual well being. Chocolate consumption is not frivolous, it's satisfying a basic biological need. Ask any woman.
I suppose my second failing would be exercise. I hate sweat. I hate thinking about sweat. I hate producing sweat. I hate cleaning up after sweat. I hate being around other people who are sweating. It's all pretty simple; if the choice came down to death or sweat, I'd choose daisy dirt.
This aversion wreaks havoc with an exercise regime. When the point is to elevate your heart rate, sweat is an indisputable side effect…so much for my activity level. Let's see, no exercise, lots o' chocolate. Hmmm… Wonder why the fat lady walking behind me was so darn close?
Well, now I've gone and done it. I've taken a blood oath to burn my fat lady clothes. Since the whole Joan of Arc thing holds little attraction for me, I guess I've got to shrink. I must break up with food. We're going to have to cool it off to just a friendly relationship. I hope the grocer doesn't take it too hard. His stocks are going to plummet.
Then there's the sweat issue...conquering this one may kill me.
I've got to give in and join the world of the weight-conscious. Not that I wasn't conscious of it before. I always knew I had a weight, I just didn't know how much it was.
Never fear, I won't go too far. I've made my husband promise to lock me up if I ever turn into one of those size six skinny minnies, who gripes about her thighs. I guess my days of threatening to sit on those ladies are soon to be over.
Maybe I still have time to track down a few...for exercise.
www.crazycancermom.com
Have a great weekend!
Since I won't be able to pester you all for a few days....I'm going to share something I've been saving. I wrote the following essay, the last time I lost a tremendous amount of weight (40 lbs). BTW, the last time, was right before Avalon was diagnosed.... Hmm..wonder why I gained it back?
Anyway, here is my little offering, "Declaration of War". I hope you get a giggle or two.
DECLARATION OF WAR
By Alicia Hall
OK, that's it. I've officially declared war on my thighs.
I passed a store window today and turned to see who the fat lady behind me was, only to find she was me. Something's got to give when you can follow yourself and not know it. It's dad-blasted amazing how in my mirror at home, I'm still 17 and svelte. Snow White's step mom must have really had something after all.
The problem with this declaration, is the length of time required for victory. I know I lost my territory slowly and gradually. But let's face it, we all want to take the hill on the first day of battle. The person who could invent a one-day nonstop anti-fat device, would own the world. We wouldn't have to be greedy. The device could be a one shot deal. You pork up again, it's up to you, babe. But gee, don't we all deserve the chance to be stupid at least once in our life?
The way I see it, I'm really not overweight. I'm just 3 feet too short. Vertically challenged, so to speak. If I were 10’ 6" tall, I’d be darn svelte. Yea, that's it. I’d be a 10’ 6" bikini model...
Fine, you got me. My malfunctioning gland is my brain. Truth is; I love food! I adore food. High fat, low fat, who cares? It's food and therefore worthy of my adoration. Chocolate, of course, is in a category of its own. Chocolate transcends classification as mere food. It assumes more of a godlike stature. Chocolate is to be revered, celebrated. As such, it must be partaken of regularly to ensure spiritual well being. Chocolate consumption is not frivolous, it's satisfying a basic biological need. Ask any woman.
I suppose my second failing would be exercise. I hate sweat. I hate thinking about sweat. I hate producing sweat. I hate cleaning up after sweat. I hate being around other people who are sweating. It's all pretty simple; if the choice came down to death or sweat, I'd choose daisy dirt.
This aversion wreaks havoc with an exercise regime. When the point is to elevate your heart rate, sweat is an indisputable side effect…so much for my activity level. Let's see, no exercise, lots o' chocolate. Hmmm… Wonder why the fat lady walking behind me was so darn close?
Well, now I've gone and done it. I've taken a blood oath to burn my fat lady clothes. Since the whole Joan of Arc thing holds little attraction for me, I guess I've got to shrink. I must break up with food. We're going to have to cool it off to just a friendly relationship. I hope the grocer doesn't take it too hard. His stocks are going to plummet.
Then there's the sweat issue...conquering this one may kill me.
I've got to give in and join the world of the weight-conscious. Not that I wasn't conscious of it before. I always knew I had a weight, I just didn't know how much it was.
Never fear, I won't go too far. I've made my husband promise to lock me up if I ever turn into one of those size six skinny minnies, who gripes about her thighs. I guess my days of threatening to sit on those ladies are soon to be over.
Maybe I still have time to track down a few...for exercise.
www.crazycancermom.com
Have a great weekend!
Thursday, September 13, 2007
September 13, 2007
So, it turns out, stress may be a bit of a food cue for me. Not that I didn't kind of *know it* before...but today it kind of jumped up and whacked me upside the head. My epiphanal ego says, "Yay! I'm so smart, I've recognized a huge issue!" My throbbing skull says, "Man, I wish the ego wasn't so dense that I have to get walloped so hard." And my rear says, "Damn. I bet I just found a few of those pounds I lost."
As of this morning, I nearly fell off of the scale when it read 246 pounds. (*If you happen to be tuning in late...that would be 246 pounds DOWN from 258 pounds, a mere 13 days ago.*) If you gathered the convoluted confession from the preceding paragraph, you may be surmising that my "net losses" may have been affected today.
Today was a long-anticipated and dreaded medical benchmark for my daughter. I suppose its about time I ante up some basic info about her. The beautiful little baldy you see covering most pages on www.crazycancermom.com is my own baldy, Avalon. Avalon (or daughter #3 as I usually call her here) was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia when she was 17 months old. She is currently in long term remission and has been off of chemotherapy since Dec 2006.
As a result of chemo, Avalon has been left with osteoporosis, painful, grinding joints, and brain damage. Avalon has a condition called intercranial hypertension (IH), or pseudotumor cerebri (PTC). The English translation is that she has too much spinal fluid surrounding her brain, spinal cord, and optic nerves. In fact, she has been recorded at having nearly 4 times more than the average adult. Skipping forward through years of symptoms, months of treatments, and 3 dozen trips to the OR - I'll do my best to shorthand for you.
Avalon has had a surgery to put holes in the covering of her optic nerve to allow fluid to leak out - thus reducing pressure on the optic nerve and hopefully saving her vision. Avalon now has a V-P (ventricular-peritoneal) shunt that has a tube that runs into the center of her brain to drain fluid through a resevoir and tubing to eventually dump the excess fluid into her abdomen. Avalon's shunt is what they call a "smart" shunt. We can change how much fluid it sends out by holding up a remote control behind her ear. Its pretty cool - she's actually a remote-controlled robot! (although she steadfastly refuses to make bee bop boop beep sounds for me! Killjoy)
Whew! You're almost caught up. The mystery of Avalon's PTC is that no one knew what was damaged, the mechanism that drains the fluid - or the one that decides how much to produce in the first place. I believe we have probably reached the conclusion that its her production center. Every time we give the fluid more room to leave, her brain seems to catch up by making more. Its a lose-lose proposition.
Six weeks ago, we discovered that she was, again, losing vision and that her pressure was up. We opened the shunt further and have been waiting. Today was the follow-up lumbar puncture (LP) to see what effect we had. What I haven't been telling you is that the past week as I've been jumping one diet hurdle after another...I've actually been leaping a giant chasm. As today got closer, my stress has been increasing rather exponentially. My hubby, my sister, and a close friend were all right. They all counseled me to stop focusing, stop worrying - we'll deal with it and move forward. No sense borrowing trouble. But...from a dieting perspective, it was rather like having God's biggest Hershey bar outside my window, screaming my name. The higher the level of stress, the louder Hershey yells. Its a viscious cycle.
Moving into the present, we had the LP today. For Avalon, LP's mean a long, torturous, hungry day. The procedure is done under general anesthesia, so she has to go without food after midnight, the night before. Our house rule is that anyone going to the hospital on procedure days, also goes without food until she can have it. (baby was exempted from that!) A) its downright inhumane to eat in front of a hungry short person, and B) it makes anyone with her, appreciate how she is feeling. While this all sounds noble and such, it did make for a rather cranky bunch o' kids today - since I got stuck taking all of them.
Long story short, (well, that ship appears to have already sailed...) the results were not as good as we would have wanted. Yes, her pressure is better, but its still twice normal. The problem is, we're running her shunt at nearly full capacity already. It may not be possible to outdistance the brain with just the shunt and the previous eye surgery. From here, the options get...interesting. (I'll leave it at that, for now) The news wasn't horrible, just disappointing. And now part two of the wait begins. We see her neuro-opthalmologist on Monday. What we find there, will be the true deciding factor. So my stress-fest will have to trudge on through the weekend.
Post surgery, we took our morphine-goofy, hungry-bunny to a lobby of the hospital where they were broadcasting a fundraising radiothon. We've participated in this radio-thon in years past, and only missed being interviewed this time because I forgot to return the phone call. So, we went to see if we could help out, visit our hospital friends, and bribe my brood with some catered goodies.
At the radio event, I was able to relax a bit and enjoy good conversation and warm smiles from wonderful employees that have long since crossed over to "friends". I even managed to eat healthy, choosing just one spinach chicken wrap. A wrap, by the way, that was so stinking good-for-me AND tasty that I nearly was convinced I had nodded off and dreamed the whole thing... At the event, I fed my woozy 4 year old ooey gooey brownies and chips (she gets anything she wants for her first "meal" post-op), all without a second thought to tasting them myself. And then...I came home.
Right about now you're thinking, "What in the Sam-hill does any of this have to do with dieting? And geez, I thought this Blubber Blog was supposed to be funny?" Well, the BB is usually going to be humorous - I am usually pretty light-hearted. Its a darn sight easier to laugh about life than drown in the serious. (see Bruhnhilda's Blog of Absurdity) But, I would rather keep the BB honest than fakely funny - so today...maybe its a bit more real than real funny.
Don't get me wrong, our day at the hospital was one giant grin. We LOVE the wonderful, giving, warm, loving, supportive, amazing humans that work in our hospital. We laugh, hug, tease, and enjoy the time we share with them. It may sound rather insane, but a hospital day is not a negative event for our family. We enjoy "catching up" with the friends we've made along the way. I think that's the interesting thing I learned today - I wasn't even interested in the "bad stuff" while I was standing there facing piles of gourmet cookies, pans of brownies or the chip buffet. As long as I was distracted and laughing, I could have cared less.
It was the fateful drive home that gave me time to really start *thinking* about what could potentially be coming...that I began to unravel. Am I a teary, bleary mess? No. We've handled far worse. However, did I over eat in the comfort of my own 4 walls? Oh yeah. Uh-huh. Affirmative. Yep-a-roonie. Guilty as charged.
The good news is, I must be making some sort of mental progress, I didn't exactly "pig out" to even a fraction of the extent I would have 3 weeks ago. Days past, I would have finished off the container of brownies still in my cupboard, followed by probably ordering pizza for dinner. I did manage to rein myself in to two 1 inch squares of the dreaded brownies. However, to chase away my Brownie Blues, I chased my sensible portion, with a bowl of cereal. OK, so the cereal was organic, and was mostly oats. It also has a good amount of wheat - which can be entirely responsible for sinking my dieting battleship. Then there was my dinner... a giant bowl of butter-dripping popcorn. Since the battleship was already gone - I went ahead and sunk the coast guard's boat too...
After recovering from my naval assault, I realized how I'd been seeking my ammo with no thought to what it would do to my body. I was only looking for how things would taste. That's about the time I had my great epiphany that stress really does make me do things. Here I thought I was so highly evolved and junk. Hah! I'm a complete simpleton. When it comes to why I eat what I eat and when, I've barely been surviving at amoeba level. Wow. Who knew?
I guess what I'm trying to share, is that I think I bumped up an evolutionary notch, or two, to at least paramecium today. I have finally recognized that no matter how much in control I think I am...there are times I completely surrender to the call of the sirens, the stress sirens. For today, I figure I may have surrendered a pound or two to them. The trick is to find my earplugs. I need to learn to ignore that call and divert my attention. Hopefully, finally knowing there is a call, will be a giant step toward immunity to it. I don't really know, I'm just musing and sharing...honestly.
Ack, this open heart, open life stuff can totally blow some days.
To keep you all from thinking I've gone totally serious on you...I'm posting my first tidbit on Bruhnhilda's Blog of Absurdity. Click on the link in the Links section upper right hand corner of the page, it will take you there. For my ALL-list, my local friends and family - you will recognize the story. For everyone else, this started as an email to a few people, and has morphed into the BBOA. Salute my on-line friends! You are keeping me sane.
- Alicia - the crazy cancer mom!
As of this morning, I nearly fell off of the scale when it read 246 pounds. (*If you happen to be tuning in late...that would be 246 pounds DOWN from 258 pounds, a mere 13 days ago.*) If you gathered the convoluted confession from the preceding paragraph, you may be surmising that my "net losses" may have been affected today.
Today was a long-anticipated and dreaded medical benchmark for my daughter. I suppose its about time I ante up some basic info about her. The beautiful little baldy you see covering most pages on www.crazycancermom.com is my own baldy, Avalon. Avalon (or daughter #3 as I usually call her here) was diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia when she was 17 months old. She is currently in long term remission and has been off of chemotherapy since Dec 2006.
As a result of chemo, Avalon has been left with osteoporosis, painful, grinding joints, and brain damage. Avalon has a condition called intercranial hypertension (IH), or pseudotumor cerebri (PTC). The English translation is that she has too much spinal fluid surrounding her brain, spinal cord, and optic nerves. In fact, she has been recorded at having nearly 4 times more than the average adult. Skipping forward through years of symptoms, months of treatments, and 3 dozen trips to the OR - I'll do my best to shorthand for you.
Avalon has had a surgery to put holes in the covering of her optic nerve to allow fluid to leak out - thus reducing pressure on the optic nerve and hopefully saving her vision. Avalon now has a V-P (ventricular-peritoneal) shunt that has a tube that runs into the center of her brain to drain fluid through a resevoir and tubing to eventually dump the excess fluid into her abdomen. Avalon's shunt is what they call a "smart" shunt. We can change how much fluid it sends out by holding up a remote control behind her ear. Its pretty cool - she's actually a remote-controlled robot! (although she steadfastly refuses to make bee bop boop beep sounds for me! Killjoy)
Whew! You're almost caught up. The mystery of Avalon's PTC is that no one knew what was damaged, the mechanism that drains the fluid - or the one that decides how much to produce in the first place. I believe we have probably reached the conclusion that its her production center. Every time we give the fluid more room to leave, her brain seems to catch up by making more. Its a lose-lose proposition.
Six weeks ago, we discovered that she was, again, losing vision and that her pressure was up. We opened the shunt further and have been waiting. Today was the follow-up lumbar puncture (LP) to see what effect we had. What I haven't been telling you is that the past week as I've been jumping one diet hurdle after another...I've actually been leaping a giant chasm. As today got closer, my stress has been increasing rather exponentially. My hubby, my sister, and a close friend were all right. They all counseled me to stop focusing, stop worrying - we'll deal with it and move forward. No sense borrowing trouble. But...from a dieting perspective, it was rather like having God's biggest Hershey bar outside my window, screaming my name. The higher the level of stress, the louder Hershey yells. Its a viscious cycle.
Moving into the present, we had the LP today. For Avalon, LP's mean a long, torturous, hungry day. The procedure is done under general anesthesia, so she has to go without food after midnight, the night before. Our house rule is that anyone going to the hospital on procedure days, also goes without food until she can have it. (baby was exempted from that!) A) its downright inhumane to eat in front of a hungry short person, and B) it makes anyone with her, appreciate how she is feeling. While this all sounds noble and such, it did make for a rather cranky bunch o' kids today - since I got stuck taking all of them.
Long story short, (well, that ship appears to have already sailed...) the results were not as good as we would have wanted. Yes, her pressure is better, but its still twice normal. The problem is, we're running her shunt at nearly full capacity already. It may not be possible to outdistance the brain with just the shunt and the previous eye surgery. From here, the options get...interesting. (I'll leave it at that, for now) The news wasn't horrible, just disappointing. And now part two of the wait begins. We see her neuro-opthalmologist on Monday. What we find there, will be the true deciding factor. So my stress-fest will have to trudge on through the weekend.
Post surgery, we took our morphine-goofy, hungry-bunny to a lobby of the hospital where they were broadcasting a fundraising radiothon. We've participated in this radio-thon in years past, and only missed being interviewed this time because I forgot to return the phone call. So, we went to see if we could help out, visit our hospital friends, and bribe my brood with some catered goodies.
At the radio event, I was able to relax a bit and enjoy good conversation and warm smiles from wonderful employees that have long since crossed over to "friends". I even managed to eat healthy, choosing just one spinach chicken wrap. A wrap, by the way, that was so stinking good-for-me AND tasty that I nearly was convinced I had nodded off and dreamed the whole thing... At the event, I fed my woozy 4 year old ooey gooey brownies and chips (she gets anything she wants for her first "meal" post-op), all without a second thought to tasting them myself. And then...I came home.
Right about now you're thinking, "What in the Sam-hill does any of this have to do with dieting? And geez, I thought this Blubber Blog was supposed to be funny?" Well, the BB is usually going to be humorous - I am usually pretty light-hearted. Its a darn sight easier to laugh about life than drown in the serious. (see Bruhnhilda's Blog of Absurdity) But, I would rather keep the BB honest than fakely funny - so today...maybe its a bit more real than real funny.
Don't get me wrong, our day at the hospital was one giant grin. We LOVE the wonderful, giving, warm, loving, supportive, amazing humans that work in our hospital. We laugh, hug, tease, and enjoy the time we share with them. It may sound rather insane, but a hospital day is not a negative event for our family. We enjoy "catching up" with the friends we've made along the way. I think that's the interesting thing I learned today - I wasn't even interested in the "bad stuff" while I was standing there facing piles of gourmet cookies, pans of brownies or the chip buffet. As long as I was distracted and laughing, I could have cared less.
It was the fateful drive home that gave me time to really start *thinking* about what could potentially be coming...that I began to unravel. Am I a teary, bleary mess? No. We've handled far worse. However, did I over eat in the comfort of my own 4 walls? Oh yeah. Uh-huh. Affirmative. Yep-a-roonie. Guilty as charged.
The good news is, I must be making some sort of mental progress, I didn't exactly "pig out" to even a fraction of the extent I would have 3 weeks ago. Days past, I would have finished off the container of brownies still in my cupboard, followed by probably ordering pizza for dinner. I did manage to rein myself in to two 1 inch squares of the dreaded brownies. However, to chase away my Brownie Blues, I chased my sensible portion, with a bowl of cereal. OK, so the cereal was organic, and was mostly oats. It also has a good amount of wheat - which can be entirely responsible for sinking my dieting battleship. Then there was my dinner... a giant bowl of butter-dripping popcorn. Since the battleship was already gone - I went ahead and sunk the coast guard's boat too...
After recovering from my naval assault, I realized how I'd been seeking my ammo with no thought to what it would do to my body. I was only looking for how things would taste. That's about the time I had my great epiphany that stress really does make me do things. Here I thought I was so highly evolved and junk. Hah! I'm a complete simpleton. When it comes to why I eat what I eat and when, I've barely been surviving at amoeba level. Wow. Who knew?
I guess what I'm trying to share, is that I think I bumped up an evolutionary notch, or two, to at least paramecium today. I have finally recognized that no matter how much in control I think I am...there are times I completely surrender to the call of the sirens, the stress sirens. For today, I figure I may have surrendered a pound or two to them. The trick is to find my earplugs. I need to learn to ignore that call and divert my attention. Hopefully, finally knowing there is a call, will be a giant step toward immunity to it. I don't really know, I'm just musing and sharing...honestly.
Ack, this open heart, open life stuff can totally blow some days.
To keep you all from thinking I've gone totally serious on you...I'm posting my first tidbit on Bruhnhilda's Blog of Absurdity. Click on the link in the Links section upper right hand corner of the page, it will take you there. For my ALL-list, my local friends and family - you will recognize the story. For everyone else, this started as an email to a few people, and has morphed into the BBOA. Salute my on-line friends! You are keeping me sane.
- Alicia - the crazy cancer mom!
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
September 12, 2007
Oh cripes. Just how much trouble am I in for not posting yesterday? Would pitiful and overly-mascaraed batting eyelashes get me out of dutch? Puh-lease...?
How about some rockin' news? Hold onto your horses, your britches and your brother's balls (his basketballs - get your mind out of the gutter!)...I've lost 10 pounds!!!!!! Wahooooooooo
**We now take a blog identification break to allow for author bummy-shaking and proud-proud dancing.**
We may now resume our regularly scheduled rantings....
Yep, you read that right. teno poundaroonies! hee hee hee So apparantly, it may indeed be worth learning to merely wave at the chocolate bar, rather than offering to marry it. There may atually be something to the theory of "moderation". Well, who'd have thunk it?
But I do come here this evening with a smidge of a heavy heart. (OK, so we know definitively, that no part of me is a "smidge heavy" - c'mon - go with it...) I fear, I must confess something to you. As I dance and hoot, I admit that in doing so, I'm committing a bit of a falsehood....
Oh don't you worry, I really did start this ordeal by weighing myself on Thursday Aug 30. The scales really did horrify me with the chart-topping 258 pounds. Those same scales really did read 248 pounds, three times in row this morning. No kidding, no bluffing.
The problem is, I'm not exactly sure how much they would have read before I planned this Fat-A-Thon. You see, I've been living the last few months like Dead Man Walking. Only, you can morph it into Fat-Lady-NOT-Walking!
I dreamed up this idea of a Fat-A-Thon several months ago. I thought long and hard about the "Why" , the "How", the actual brass tacks of pulling this off. Then, I even went so far as to have a grown-up type meeting with some people who run a local pediatric cancer charity - to pick their un-child-drained brains for ideas and feedback. We all agreed on a plan of attack, and the beast of burden was left to me to start the sight and the weightloss.
Here's where the road gets a little twisty. Now, if you knew it was your last chance to ever see a dear friend, how would you choose to bid them adieu? Would you do the bandaid method - saying a lightening fast good-bye and then ripping your heart out with several hairs and burning skin cells attached? OR Would you take the romantic movie approach - gently caressing your friend's hand as you took long, thoughtful walks together on the beach, tirelessly recanting your years of enjoying each others' company?
Being the committed romantic that I am...I felt that too rapid of a farewell to food would simply not do our relationship justice. I decided to honor my long-time friend with a series of heartfelt get togethers and tasty trists. I began a several-month long effort to make sure that food - particularly that of high calorie and fat count - knew that it had been well-loved and would be missed.
Thus began the Summer of my Content. I can now fully divulge the divinity that was my Summer. I ate as if it was my job....and it was gooood..........................
I ate cookies and cake and brownies and pie. I ate chips and dip and spinach on rye. I ate french fries and pizza and cream of the ice. And damn it all, man - it surely was nice!
Get real. I didn't get to be this size by not liking food. I got here because food tastes good. I like it. A good hunk o- chocolate is nearly a religious event. Somewhere, in the deep dark recesses of my twisted mind, I think I decided I needed to eat everything I ever would want to eat ever again - and pack it into a few weeks. I would be driving past a set of Arches or the home of the King and think, "You know, in a few weeks, I'll never be able to have a *&%^$ again. I really should stop and get one so I can remember what it tastes like." OR I'd see the ice cream store on the corner and think, "Oh, the kids will really enjoy that on a hot day like this. Since I won't ever eat ice cream again, I think I'll get the large (which should really be called the Gargantuan)" Here's the real fruit-loopy part to that one - I don't even like ice cream!
Somewhere in the last few weeks leading up to this diet-death-trek of mine, all of my insanity began to work. I would think about pulling into a dwelling of the Mac - and think, "Bleck. That doesn't even sound good." I would drive past our favorite soft-serve center and think, "I'll really get a headache from that." I think I actually managed to out eat myself. You know those stories you used to hear about a parent catching a kid with a cigarette and then making him smoke until he threw up, to make the child hate the taste/smell of cigs? Well, I'm here to report that you can, indeed, over-junkify yourself. I ate until I abhorred, I dined until I despised.
I actually managed to overeat myself into eating sensibly. Just how insane is that?! It is with this knowledge, that I must confess that probably 4 or 5 of the pounds I've parted company with this week, may very well have come from my oh-so-questionable "preparation" for my pledge quest. Yes, yes, I may truly be certifiable.
Funny thing though. As I "fattened" the goose with my long, romantic, goodbye, it never quite occurred to me that I was merely setting myself up for extra band-aid days of losing my gander-padding. Perhaps, I need to re-think my methods of departure.
Rip! Ow...... Rip! OW! RIP!!! Ow!!!!!! Oh yeah, hindsight is definitely 20-20. Rats.
- Alicia www.crazycancermom.com
And now Bruhnhildas Blog of Absurdity see the link above
Breakfast: 2 eggs, onions, tomatoes, no cheese! (if I don't go to the store soon - I may begin licking cardboard) 2 C coffee with creamer
Lunch: Forgot it! Doing school with one child, dressing others, leaving with all 4 for a meeting at the hospital...Oops!
Dinner: 1/3 - 1/2 lb ground chuck with taco seasoning, salad greens, tomatoes, diet coke
(again, no cheese - criminal, I tell you!)
How about some rockin' news? Hold onto your horses, your britches and your brother's balls (his basketballs - get your mind out of the gutter!)...I've lost 10 pounds!!!!!! Wahooooooooo
**We now take a blog identification break to allow for author bummy-shaking and proud-proud dancing.**
We may now resume our regularly scheduled rantings....
Yep, you read that right. teno poundaroonies! hee hee hee So apparantly, it may indeed be worth learning to merely wave at the chocolate bar, rather than offering to marry it. There may atually be something to the theory of "moderation". Well, who'd have thunk it?
But I do come here this evening with a smidge of a heavy heart. (OK, so we know definitively, that no part of me is a "smidge heavy" - c'mon - go with it...) I fear, I must confess something to you. As I dance and hoot, I admit that in doing so, I'm committing a bit of a falsehood....
Oh don't you worry, I really did start this ordeal by weighing myself on Thursday Aug 30. The scales really did horrify me with the chart-topping 258 pounds. Those same scales really did read 248 pounds, three times in row this morning. No kidding, no bluffing.
The problem is, I'm not exactly sure how much they would have read before I planned this Fat-A-Thon. You see, I've been living the last few months like Dead Man Walking. Only, you can morph it into Fat-Lady-NOT-Walking!
I dreamed up this idea of a Fat-A-Thon several months ago. I thought long and hard about the "Why" , the "How", the actual brass tacks of pulling this off. Then, I even went so far as to have a grown-up type meeting with some people who run a local pediatric cancer charity - to pick their un-child-drained brains for ideas and feedback. We all agreed on a plan of attack, and the beast of burden was left to me to start the sight and the weightloss.
Here's where the road gets a little twisty. Now, if you knew it was your last chance to ever see a dear friend, how would you choose to bid them adieu? Would you do the bandaid method - saying a lightening fast good-bye and then ripping your heart out with several hairs and burning skin cells attached? OR Would you take the romantic movie approach - gently caressing your friend's hand as you took long, thoughtful walks together on the beach, tirelessly recanting your years of enjoying each others' company?
Being the committed romantic that I am...I felt that too rapid of a farewell to food would simply not do our relationship justice. I decided to honor my long-time friend with a series of heartfelt get togethers and tasty trists. I began a several-month long effort to make sure that food - particularly that of high calorie and fat count - knew that it had been well-loved and would be missed.
Thus began the Summer of my Content. I can now fully divulge the divinity that was my Summer. I ate as if it was my job....and it was gooood..........................
I ate cookies and cake and brownies and pie. I ate chips and dip and spinach on rye. I ate french fries and pizza and cream of the ice. And damn it all, man - it surely was nice!
Get real. I didn't get to be this size by not liking food. I got here because food tastes good. I like it. A good hunk o- chocolate is nearly a religious event. Somewhere, in the deep dark recesses of my twisted mind, I think I decided I needed to eat everything I ever would want to eat ever again - and pack it into a few weeks. I would be driving past a set of Arches or the home of the King and think, "You know, in a few weeks, I'll never be able to have a *&%^$ again. I really should stop and get one so I can remember what it tastes like." OR I'd see the ice cream store on the corner and think, "Oh, the kids will really enjoy that on a hot day like this. Since I won't ever eat ice cream again, I think I'll get the large (which should really be called the Gargantuan)" Here's the real fruit-loopy part to that one - I don't even like ice cream!
Somewhere in the last few weeks leading up to this diet-death-trek of mine, all of my insanity began to work. I would think about pulling into a dwelling of the Mac - and think, "Bleck. That doesn't even sound good." I would drive past our favorite soft-serve center and think, "I'll really get a headache from that." I think I actually managed to out eat myself. You know those stories you used to hear about a parent catching a kid with a cigarette and then making him smoke until he threw up, to make the child hate the taste/smell of cigs? Well, I'm here to report that you can, indeed, over-junkify yourself. I ate until I abhorred, I dined until I despised.
I actually managed to overeat myself into eating sensibly. Just how insane is that?! It is with this knowledge, that I must confess that probably 4 or 5 of the pounds I've parted company with this week, may very well have come from my oh-so-questionable "preparation" for my pledge quest. Yes, yes, I may truly be certifiable.
Funny thing though. As I "fattened" the goose with my long, romantic, goodbye, it never quite occurred to me that I was merely setting myself up for extra band-aid days of losing my gander-padding. Perhaps, I need to re-think my methods of departure.
Rip! Ow...... Rip! OW! RIP!!! Ow!!!!!! Oh yeah, hindsight is definitely 20-20. Rats.
- Alicia www.crazycancermom.com
And now Bruhnhildas Blog of Absurdity see the link above
Breakfast: 2 eggs, onions, tomatoes, no cheese! (if I don't go to the store soon - I may begin licking cardboard) 2 C coffee with creamer
Lunch: Forgot it! Doing school with one child, dressing others, leaving with all 4 for a meeting at the hospital...Oops!
Dinner: 1/3 - 1/2 lb ground chuck with taco seasoning, salad greens, tomatoes, diet coke
(again, no cheese - criminal, I tell you!)
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