My daughter and I have since she was little played a game that allowed us to check our perspective on a past event; sometimes we look back on whatever situation with a similar view (and others not so much).
It goes something like this: Mom, do remember the time that I was so sick that I couldn't go out trick or treating at Halloween? (Plugging in whatever memory - good or bad - that has cropped up).
Memories flood back of the worry of my little girl's fever creeping back over 104 degrees again as it had many times over the last few days that October. Knowing that despite all the preparations of sewing a costume and all the excitement that comes with a five year old anxiously awaiting the big day, I was going to have to keep her home with me. She was so ill she didn't even care at that point.
There have to be hundreds of those moments that we'll from time to time call upon to reaffirm our feelings about the event. I remember how disappointed I felt for her and how worried I was, and she recalls how sad she felt to hear the doorbell ringing as her neighbour friends came to the door for their treats and she could hardly lift her head from the couch a few feet away. And that makes me remember that although she couldn't partake, she didn't want me to turn off all the lights and not give out treats that night. Why should the other kids miss out? (For the record, her Dad went out on her behalf that night with a pillowcase to collect goodies from a few neigbours who would have been awaiting her visit. And when she was better, she was allowed a trip to Sugar Mountain for a good sized heap of treats of her choosing).
It's those kind of moments that we look back on to reaffirm our commitment to getting through those challenges together and to see whether we're yet ready to laugh about them in hindsight. Many are now worth a good chuckle, others are reminders that life is sometimes quite tough and painful.
It's been several weeks of evaluating challenges and wondering if given time I'll be able to laugh about them down the road. I sincerely hope that at least a few of them give pause and a smile, because they're certainly not right now.
Remember the time when I went through radiation treatment and I was so sore and tired that all I could do is regret that I'd not taken friends up on offers to come stay with me? Radiation fatigue is so totally off base of a description, a semi-coma state is more like it. All I can do is sleep and wish that I had a magic fairy to go make me something to eat. I've just managed my first consecutive two hour period of being awake in the last two days and the best I can do is drag my laptop a foot over to type this. Up until now, staring at the ceiling was the extent of my exertion.
There are a few dozen challenges over the last few weeks that I wonder to myself if I'll ever laugh about them. If so, it'll be my own private joke and that in itself makes me sad. Lost along with this are the opportunities to celebrate the successes when they appear.
At the hospital they make a big deal out of finishing treatment. Everyone who had reason to check my file out yesterday was ready with words of congratulations, a hug and words of encouragement. Including the volunteer driver who had been notified that this was an important day.
I came home to an empty apartment, exhausted, having to deal with a broken dishwasher, facing once again that really awful carpet that taunts me, listening to the sounds of grating metal from the industrial area just behind me, seeing that my apartment needed a going-over badly with a vacuum and a dustcloth and it wasn't going to clean itself, hungry as could be and no energy to make myself anything.
I suppose deep sleep is the kindest gift that can be given to me at this point. I don't want to even think right now if I'll play the "remember when" game about all this in the future. I just want it all to go away for awhile and for this apartment to spare me anymore unwelcome surprises.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
You Can Only Sit Back and Laugh. A Lot.
While a couple of relationships in my life have crashed and burned in the last year (related to the separation), others have delightfully grown into something dear and very special to me.
One level of friendship that must be dealt with concerns my illness. There's no hiding from it, if you're in my life it has to be understood that it and I are inseparable. Sometimes I have to cancel plans, other times I have a short burst of energy that I'd like to take advantage of with someone whose company I enjoy. Other times there's no need for it to come up in conversation; although it always does because the people in my life care about how I'm feeling and always ask for an update.
An aspect of these relationships is the comfort level with including humour in discussing my health. I've come to realize that the more easily we can joke about my health, the more I know in my heart that the friend is there for the long haul. Not out of obligation or because of curiousity - but because they truly want to be part of my life and know that I want them around too.
Case in point (or two cases actually).
A few weeks ago it was my birthday. Not a big deal, my daughter's birthday follows the next day and I'd rather concentrate on her celebration (she was an amazing belated present for me nineteen years ago and nothing could ever top that). A dear friend sent me a card and thoughtfully included a scratch lottery ticket in hopes that I might win big.
I waited until my birthday to open it (I'm superstitious like that, thanks Mom), and emailed my friend to thank her. What poured forth was a horrified apology from her with the realization that she had enclosed a Cash For Life ticket, she'd agonized about it for days worrying that I'd take offence at the name of the lottery.
We had a good giggle about it (I truly hadn't registered which scratch card I'd been given - I just enjoy the fun of hoping for at least a free ticket). Which I did get, over and over again until the lucky streak ended yesterday.
Well, an opportunity for a good laugh struck again last night. This friend had received a call from Costco about having purchased ground beef which is potentially contaminated. Beef which she'd used to prepare chili for me which she'd thoughtfully portioned out for the freezer to cover off a bunch of meals if I wasn't feeling up to cooking while I'm going through treatment.
Another worried email, very concerned that although there has been no reported illness - with my compromised immune system it might be a different story. Wouldn't it be something to get this far with battling ECD only to pass of food poisoning? For the record, I'd already eaten a portion last week and was perfectly fine. And perfectly sated, the chili was delicious. Not to make light of the recall - I pray that nobody becomes ill - but this story is of the thread that makes the fabric of my life.
My friends and I can joke about all this because if they know me at all - they sense that my demise will have some sort of "it could only happen to Sandy" component to it. 'Cause that's just the kind of luck I have. And the great luck to have friends who roll with it all.
One level of friendship that must be dealt with concerns my illness. There's no hiding from it, if you're in my life it has to be understood that it and I are inseparable. Sometimes I have to cancel plans, other times I have a short burst of energy that I'd like to take advantage of with someone whose company I enjoy. Other times there's no need for it to come up in conversation; although it always does because the people in my life care about how I'm feeling and always ask for an update.
An aspect of these relationships is the comfort level with including humour in discussing my health. I've come to realize that the more easily we can joke about my health, the more I know in my heart that the friend is there for the long haul. Not out of obligation or because of curiousity - but because they truly want to be part of my life and know that I want them around too.
Case in point (or two cases actually).
A few weeks ago it was my birthday. Not a big deal, my daughter's birthday follows the next day and I'd rather concentrate on her celebration (she was an amazing belated present for me nineteen years ago and nothing could ever top that). A dear friend sent me a card and thoughtfully included a scratch lottery ticket in hopes that I might win big.
I waited until my birthday to open it (I'm superstitious like that, thanks Mom), and emailed my friend to thank her. What poured forth was a horrified apology from her with the realization that she had enclosed a Cash For Life ticket, she'd agonized about it for days worrying that I'd take offence at the name of the lottery.
We had a good giggle about it (I truly hadn't registered which scratch card I'd been given - I just enjoy the fun of hoping for at least a free ticket). Which I did get, over and over again until the lucky streak ended yesterday.
Well, an opportunity for a good laugh struck again last night. This friend had received a call from Costco about having purchased ground beef which is potentially contaminated. Beef which she'd used to prepare chili for me which she'd thoughtfully portioned out for the freezer to cover off a bunch of meals if I wasn't feeling up to cooking while I'm going through treatment.
Another worried email, very concerned that although there has been no reported illness - with my compromised immune system it might be a different story. Wouldn't it be something to get this far with battling ECD only to pass of food poisoning? For the record, I'd already eaten a portion last week and was perfectly fine. And perfectly sated, the chili was delicious. Not to make light of the recall - I pray that nobody becomes ill - but this story is of the thread that makes the fabric of my life.
My friends and I can joke about all this because if they know me at all - they sense that my demise will have some sort of "it could only happen to Sandy" component to it. 'Cause that's just the kind of luck I have. And the great luck to have friends who roll with it all.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Unpacking Revelations - Perhaps Moving This Time?
I had to find a home for a great deal of my material possessions when we had to leave the house back in June, some of which were really difficult to part with. Most of my photography equipment, plenty of books, lots of kitchen items. Much was donated and although I hope items found a home with people who would find value in them, it was still a difficult exercise to whittle a lifetime down to what would fit into a small storage space and later a small apartment. And now I do it again with the realization that all this stuff just isn't going to fit into our new home.
As I unpack there are moments of regret in thinking of how much I'd like to still have a particular item. It's happened more than once this week that I think of a book I'd like to look at as I'm curled up in bed and realize I'd sold it. A print I'd like to hang on the wall and know that it now hangs in someone else's home. What's done is done and I can't hang on to moments of sadness about the tough decisions my daughter and I had to make to lessen our footprint and to find some cash during a time when not a cent was coming our way.
What has become clear to me is that I hung on to some of the "right" things, and darn it - these things are going to see the light! The good towels that I'd found on sale a good ten years ago that I'd stored away under the guest bed, taking out only when I indulged in the rare leisurely bath. They now become the everyday towels because darn it, I deserve it!
The bevy of servingware that was gifted by my aunt in Germany at the time of my first marriage. The good silverware, the beautiful platters - they're all getting out for a walk on a regular basis rather than coming out only at Christmas time. Even if it's just me.
Tonight I opened up the boxes of clothing that had gone into storage (it was only a suitcase worth that I took to our temporary home, thinking it would only be a couple of weeks). A rush of sadness in realizing that there are pieces that I feel great in when I wear them, but their season has passed and they need to be put away until the warm weather returns next year. But my favourite sweaters? They're going to get worn this winter until they fall apart! The blankets given to me by dear friends? Pile them on! At the very least I'll not be cold this winter :-)
As I unpack there are moments of regret in thinking of how much I'd like to still have a particular item. It's happened more than once this week that I think of a book I'd like to look at as I'm curled up in bed and realize I'd sold it. A print I'd like to hang on the wall and know that it now hangs in someone else's home. What's done is done and I can't hang on to moments of sadness about the tough decisions my daughter and I had to make to lessen our footprint and to find some cash during a time when not a cent was coming our way.
What has become clear to me is that I hung on to some of the "right" things, and darn it - these things are going to see the light! The good towels that I'd found on sale a good ten years ago that I'd stored away under the guest bed, taking out only when I indulged in the rare leisurely bath. They now become the everyday towels because darn it, I deserve it!
The bevy of servingware that was gifted by my aunt in Germany at the time of my first marriage. The good silverware, the beautiful platters - they're all getting out for a walk on a regular basis rather than coming out only at Christmas time. Even if it's just me.
Tonight I opened up the boxes of clothing that had gone into storage (it was only a suitcase worth that I took to our temporary home, thinking it would only be a couple of weeks). A rush of sadness in realizing that there are pieces that I feel great in when I wear them, but their season has passed and they need to be put away until the warm weather returns next year. But my favourite sweaters? They're going to get worn this winter until they fall apart! The blankets given to me by dear friends? Pile them on! At the very least I'll not be cold this winter :-)
Sunday, September 16, 2012
Looking in the Mirror. Oh Dear.
A very busy week indeed between unpacking and radiation treatments. I've spent the last few hours moving a few things around the apartment to make it easier on me in preparation for the weeks ahead. I'd put some frequently used items out of reach and found myself grabbing a stepladder too many times a day. I met the previous tenants of my place, they're not much taller than I am - it's got me wondering just how gigantic someone before them must have been to put shelves and the bedroom clothes rod so darned high!
I worked up a bit of a sweat lugging and shifting things about and stripped down to a tank top to feel cooler as I worked on the front hall closet where I'm placing my hospital "kits"; various bags that accompany me depending on whether I'm doing a short trip like the radiation appointments this week, the bag that comes when there's a risk of an overnight stay and the emergency room bag. I know, you're wondering how you can have a life as exciting and adventurous as mine. Sorry to leave you so envious, I get to keep all these thrills to myself.
As I turned to move one of the bags I caught a glance of myself in the hallway full length mirror and startled myself. And not in a good way. Who was this bony, gaunt woman looking back at me? As we women do, I went to get a handmirror to see how things checked out from the back; it had been a very long time since I'd done so. Where the heck was the rest of me?
My pacemaker sticks out just below my collarbone like nobody's business (ick alert - you can clearly make out the wires and the ridges on the device. If I looked hard enough I'd not be surprised to make out the serial number), and my size zero jeans hang off the edges of my hipbones (I'm really painting quite a sexy image here, aren't I? Hold yourselves back gentlemen!) The frightening thing is that I've gained back about fifteen pounds since hitting my lowest point about four months ago.
When did it happen that I began to look so fragile? And how did I not snap in two fifteen pounds ago? Incentive enough to not complain again about the high calorie nutritional shakes I down first thing every morning. On second thought, they remain completely unappealing and I reserve the right to resent needing to drink them.
I worked up a bit of a sweat lugging and shifting things about and stripped down to a tank top to feel cooler as I worked on the front hall closet where I'm placing my hospital "kits"; various bags that accompany me depending on whether I'm doing a short trip like the radiation appointments this week, the bag that comes when there's a risk of an overnight stay and the emergency room bag. I know, you're wondering how you can have a life as exciting and adventurous as mine. Sorry to leave you so envious, I get to keep all these thrills to myself.
As I turned to move one of the bags I caught a glance of myself in the hallway full length mirror and startled myself. And not in a good way. Who was this bony, gaunt woman looking back at me? As we women do, I went to get a handmirror to see how things checked out from the back; it had been a very long time since I'd done so. Where the heck was the rest of me?
My pacemaker sticks out just below my collarbone like nobody's business (ick alert - you can clearly make out the wires and the ridges on the device. If I looked hard enough I'd not be surprised to make out the serial number), and my size zero jeans hang off the edges of my hipbones (I'm really painting quite a sexy image here, aren't I? Hold yourselves back gentlemen!) The frightening thing is that I've gained back about fifteen pounds since hitting my lowest point about four months ago.
When did it happen that I began to look so fragile? And how did I not snap in two fifteen pounds ago? Incentive enough to not complain again about the high calorie nutritional shakes I down first thing every morning. On second thought, they remain completely unappealing and I reserve the right to resent needing to drink them.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Halfway There (or 1/4 or an 1/8th?)
Officially I'm halfway through my two weeks of high dose radiation treatments, but having had the chance to meet many other patients over the last week I'm coming to understand that there's a long way to go. I'm told that treatments tend to make themselves felt more so afterwards; if I'm feeling tired now - just wait.
Thanks to the friends who've checked on me regularly this week (and for the wonderful meals, snacks, diversions and encouragement too!) I'm holding up. As warned, the pain did increase sharply over the last few days (radiation pain flare) and I'm getting more fatigued as the days go on. The nausea is occasional and tolerable. When it hits, soon afterwards I get a craving for potato chips (which happily I had on hand but need to find more tomorrow), I was a little nervous to eat them on an angry stomach but weirdly they do settle the nausea quite a bit. A few have commented that it sounds like morning sickness, thankfully I'm feeling nowhere near as queasy as I did when I was pregnant!
The nurses are coming daily right now to check on me, I pointed out today that I'm breaking out in bruises all over - not just on the irradiated sites. Hopefully it's not a sign of trouble with my blood cells, it's a good thing that I see my radiation oncologist on Monday so that he can see them for himself.
The irradiated skin is getting a bit pinkish, I'm diligently applying the glaxol base cream to minimize the anticipated skin burn. And forgive me for looking forward to one of the potential side effects of hair loss, I wouldn't mind a bit if I never needed to shave my legs again!
For those who have been wondering, the radiation treatments are themselves completely painless - and they come with a great team of technicians whom I look forward to seeing every visit.
I'm grateful for a weekend break from treatment, it's a chance to get myself mentally prepared for what's to come. The logistics and practicalities have been taken care of; the cupboards are full, the volunteer drivers from the Cancer Society booked - and phone numbers of friends who've insisted that they're available 24/7 for me are close by.
The tough part of this is coming home to an empty apartment, knowing that two things that were always guaranteed to soothe me and help more than any pain medication ever could - a loving hug and a head rub, aren't waiting for me anymore.
So much for "in sickness and in health" when there are greener pastures to be pursued. Yeah, I'm feeling a little bitter this week, especially after hearing that my ex landed himself a luxury apartment in an expensive neighbourhood when I've had to settle for something a distant throw from that description. One of us ended up in a far better financial position than before we married, the other far worse. You know which end I got.
Thanks to the friends who've checked on me regularly this week (and for the wonderful meals, snacks, diversions and encouragement too!) I'm holding up. As warned, the pain did increase sharply over the last few days (radiation pain flare) and I'm getting more fatigued as the days go on. The nausea is occasional and tolerable. When it hits, soon afterwards I get a craving for potato chips (which happily I had on hand but need to find more tomorrow), I was a little nervous to eat them on an angry stomach but weirdly they do settle the nausea quite a bit. A few have commented that it sounds like morning sickness, thankfully I'm feeling nowhere near as queasy as I did when I was pregnant!
The nurses are coming daily right now to check on me, I pointed out today that I'm breaking out in bruises all over - not just on the irradiated sites. Hopefully it's not a sign of trouble with my blood cells, it's a good thing that I see my radiation oncologist on Monday so that he can see them for himself.
The irradiated skin is getting a bit pinkish, I'm diligently applying the glaxol base cream to minimize the anticipated skin burn. And forgive me for looking forward to one of the potential side effects of hair loss, I wouldn't mind a bit if I never needed to shave my legs again!
For those who have been wondering, the radiation treatments are themselves completely painless - and they come with a great team of technicians whom I look forward to seeing every visit.
I'm grateful for a weekend break from treatment, it's a chance to get myself mentally prepared for what's to come. The logistics and practicalities have been taken care of; the cupboards are full, the volunteer drivers from the Cancer Society booked - and phone numbers of friends who've insisted that they're available 24/7 for me are close by.
The tough part of this is coming home to an empty apartment, knowing that two things that were always guaranteed to soothe me and help more than any pain medication ever could - a loving hug and a head rub, aren't waiting for me anymore.
So much for "in sickness and in health" when there are greener pastures to be pursued. Yeah, I'm feeling a little bitter this week, especially after hearing that my ex landed himself a luxury apartment in an expensive neighbourhood when I've had to settle for something a distant throw from that description. One of us ended up in a far better financial position than before we married, the other far worse. You know which end I got.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Moving Revelations Part III
Move accomplished, however the unpacking part is far from over - there's just not enough space to put our things. I'm going to have to deal with it slowly over the next few weeks and months. Just look past the wall of boxes if you come to visit, I'm in there somewhere! Two days into radiation and I'm already beyond exhausted - but I'll take a few minutes to offer up my third and final set of moving revelations. I would have offered them up earlier but the internet installation last week didn't stick. And I've been told that this building has unreliable connectivity; the joys of an old building.
There's something you should know about the paper that's used to wrap dishes and other breakables. It comes in a reasonably sized (albeit very heavy!) package, yet by some miracle once it's been used it explodes to a gazillion times its original volume. And it keeps growing! I'm hopeful that sometime tomorrow I'll find the kitchen.
Rolls of toilet paper made wonderful padding when packing fragile items - but when you unpack, what you have left over is a heck of a lot of toilet paper. Maybe I'll make a dividing wall with it to give my daughter some privacy when she's home from school. I'll bet that I'll be the only one in the building with anything like it!
I came this close to not keeping the bed that I love so much, by some miracle our movers were able to get the headboard around a tight corner into the bedroom after forty five minutes of most strenous effort and trying every conceivable angle. They deserved a big hug for persevering, and they each got that along with a big kiss on the cheek to boot. I love my bed that much (and the fact that they're handsome young men whom I adore took away any hesitation in showing my appreciation)!
Bless my friend K for reminding me that she needed moving boxes - I got out of the job of cutting up lots of cardboard into 2 x 2 foot pieces. I suspect that they would have sat there in my hallway for a very long time had she not rescued them today :-)
I have friends who love to see me eat, and eat well at that. Two deliveries today of delicious goodies and one yesterday, maybe I should go through radiation more often!
Feeling very retro. The super in my building hooked me up to the antenna today so that I could get a few TV channels. Out of 158 units, only ten of us don't have cable, and I got the last port. So anyone else who moves into this building - sorry, it was me who kept you from the experience that is antenna TV.
I wish I'd visited my new place during a weekday before committing to it. For the last two days there's been the screeching squeal of metal on metal, hour upon hour - I need someone to help me find the nearby source so I'll at least know what led me to drive spikes into my eardrums. However difficult it might be to get on my knees, I'll be down there praying tonight that this is a temporary assault to the senses.
The recyling room in the basement of the building gives me an uneasy feeling (or as my daughter says, it's so sketchy!) But I do go down there alone little hesitation - after all, what else could possibly happen to me? It's already been a life beyond the scope of what seems possible - wouldn't it make quite a story to hear of me murdered while attempting to be ecologically responsible?
There's something you should know about the paper that's used to wrap dishes and other breakables. It comes in a reasonably sized (albeit very heavy!) package, yet by some miracle once it's been used it explodes to a gazillion times its original volume. And it keeps growing! I'm hopeful that sometime tomorrow I'll find the kitchen.
Rolls of toilet paper made wonderful padding when packing fragile items - but when you unpack, what you have left over is a heck of a lot of toilet paper. Maybe I'll make a dividing wall with it to give my daughter some privacy when she's home from school. I'll bet that I'll be the only one in the building with anything like it!
I came this close to not keeping the bed that I love so much, by some miracle our movers were able to get the headboard around a tight corner into the bedroom after forty five minutes of most strenous effort and trying every conceivable angle. They deserved a big hug for persevering, and they each got that along with a big kiss on the cheek to boot. I love my bed that much (and the fact that they're handsome young men whom I adore took away any hesitation in showing my appreciation)!
Bless my friend K for reminding me that she needed moving boxes - I got out of the job of cutting up lots of cardboard into 2 x 2 foot pieces. I suspect that they would have sat there in my hallway for a very long time had she not rescued them today :-)
I have friends who love to see me eat, and eat well at that. Two deliveries today of delicious goodies and one yesterday, maybe I should go through radiation more often!
Feeling very retro. The super in my building hooked me up to the antenna today so that I could get a few TV channels. Out of 158 units, only ten of us don't have cable, and I got the last port. So anyone else who moves into this building - sorry, it was me who kept you from the experience that is antenna TV.
I wish I'd visited my new place during a weekday before committing to it. For the last two days there's been the screeching squeal of metal on metal, hour upon hour - I need someone to help me find the nearby source so I'll at least know what led me to drive spikes into my eardrums. However difficult it might be to get on my knees, I'll be down there praying tonight that this is a temporary assault to the senses.
The recyling room in the basement of the building gives me an uneasy feeling (or as my daughter says, it's so sketchy!) But I do go down there alone little hesitation - after all, what else could possibly happen to me? It's already been a life beyond the scope of what seems possible - wouldn't it make quite a story to hear of me murdered while attempting to be ecologically responsible?
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Revelations Part II
I still hate moving, nothing's changed since yesterday.
You really need to listen to me on this point, I beg of you. If I ever give you the slightest impression that I'm considering changing abodes again in the future you can not only hit me with the heavy object I mentioned in yesterday's post, you have permission to take my iPad away from me. Now you know that I really, really mean business.
I've lived out of a suitcase for over three months. How is it feasible that in transferring this small amount of clothing to the new place I've lost one of the three pair of pants that come close to fitting me? They're probably hiding out with the missing towel bar and mixing bowl, I hope that they're all having a fabulous time together somewhere.
Furniture can hide a multitude of sins. I take back what I said yesterday about trusting a new vacuum cleaner. I'm again blaming those gorgeous Corian counters for taking my eye off the ball, they're almost as devious as styrofoam!
Who manufactures a fan with a light so dim that even the moths take a pass? Another lamp is added to the list of things I need to get tomorrow.
I've always been against the idea of a TV in my bedroom, but I think that's the room that's going to win. If you're coming to visit and suggest that we rent a movie to take my mind off things (no cable my friends, I'm going commando!) you've been forewarned. You'll be watching from under the duvet, but I'll lighten up on the no snacking in bed rule ;-)
I think I have a screw loose in booking high dose radiation two days after a move to a new home. Yes, I'm that darned desperate for pain relief. But that badly needed to be in a one story home before I did anything about it.
My biggest revelation today is that although I'm one tough cookie this is seriously deep mud that I'm wading into on my own. Despite trying to keep a sense of humour about me throughout this latest in a long string of challenges, I have to stop sweeping the gravity of what I'm facing under the rug. For at least a little while I'm giving myself permission to be as frightened as others who care about me say I have the right to be.
You really need to listen to me on this point, I beg of you. If I ever give you the slightest impression that I'm considering changing abodes again in the future you can not only hit me with the heavy object I mentioned in yesterday's post, you have permission to take my iPad away from me. Now you know that I really, really mean business.
I've lived out of a suitcase for over three months. How is it feasible that in transferring this small amount of clothing to the new place I've lost one of the three pair of pants that come close to fitting me? They're probably hiding out with the missing towel bar and mixing bowl, I hope that they're all having a fabulous time together somewhere.
Furniture can hide a multitude of sins. I take back what I said yesterday about trusting a new vacuum cleaner. I'm again blaming those gorgeous Corian counters for taking my eye off the ball, they're almost as devious as styrofoam!
Who manufactures a fan with a light so dim that even the moths take a pass? Another lamp is added to the list of things I need to get tomorrow.
I've always been against the idea of a TV in my bedroom, but I think that's the room that's going to win. If you're coming to visit and suggest that we rent a movie to take my mind off things (no cable my friends, I'm going commando!) you've been forewarned. You'll be watching from under the duvet, but I'll lighten up on the no snacking in bed rule ;-)
I think I have a screw loose in booking high dose radiation two days after a move to a new home. Yes, I'm that darned desperate for pain relief. But that badly needed to be in a one story home before I did anything about it.
My biggest revelation today is that although I'm one tough cookie this is seriously deep mud that I'm wading into on my own. Despite trying to keep a sense of humour about me throughout this latest in a long string of challenges, I have to stop sweeping the gravity of what I'm facing under the rug. For at least a little while I'm giving myself permission to be as frightened as others who care about me say I have the right to be.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Revelations Part I
This is moving week, and it's been a week of moving revelations. Not to mean revelations that are moving, there's nothing at all touching to be found in this process.
I detest moving. Twice in just over three months, never again. And I mean it. Please remind me of this week if I ever mention moving again. If it doesn't work, hit me over the head with something heavy, preferably an item I never got around to find a proper place for in our small apartment.
I hate styrofoam, and styrofoam hates me. Hours that should have been spent unpacking tonight were instead spent vacuuming up and picking off those annoying bits that fly everywhere when you try to break it up into smaller pieces for the garbage. Please explain how styrofoam found its way under my clothes, as I found the case to be a short time ago when getting ready for bed. The stuff is evil.
I'm shorter than I thought I was. Or they're making kitchen cupboards taller. In any case, I can't reach many of them in my new kitchen. Why did I not notice this before committing? It must have been those beautiful Corian counters, true love blinded me. It's happened before, apparently I'm a slow learner.
Cheesies (which to my delight were discovered to be gluten-free by my daughter last week) make a perfectly sensible dinner all on their own. My new home, new rules.
Trust a new vacuum cleaner, it doesn't lie.
It's okay to enjoy the eye candy that was my telephone and internet installer tonight. Good Lord, I'd forgotten that sometimes men come in arrestingly adorable packages after the age of twenty five. Who am I kidding? Have I forgotten that I watched a Bradley Cooper movie the other night? Just his dimples alone can put a silly grin on my face.
I like to believe that I can think outside of the box. That's what I'd like to do right now, think everything I own outside of its box. Channelling Endora, Samantha and Tabitha, and proving how old I am at the same time.
There was a time that I loved to map out room dimensions and furniture sizes/placement onto graph paper. Not so much anymore. Furniture lands where it lands on Saturday and I'll deal with it then. In our wildest dreams there's no way to squish half the contents of a four bedroom plus finished basement house into a one bedroom apartment. And I'm no hoarder, it's just the detritus of almost fifty years, a photography business and the raising of one terrific daughter who LOVES books (who starts her second year of university tomorrow!) Stay tuned for the sale and givewaways folks. It's gonna be big and it's gonna hurt. Whatever photo equipment I'd said I could never part with when you offered to buy it, it's time to ask me again.
No matter how lovely the kitchen, there's just no hiding a DNR that has to hang on the fridge. Which by the way isn't magnetic on the front as I tonight discovered, it's stainless steel that is just pretending. What is this world coming to?
I've just realized that I forgot to ask the telephone installer how to access my voicemail. Or he forgot to tell me, in which case he's completely forgiven. Adorableness gives him a free pass. Completely unlike me to let a detail like that slide for several hours, however it's been a very unusual day.
Here's one of my fun coincidences. The Cancer Society volunteer who drove me to the hospital today turns out to have lived in my new building when it was first built almost forty years ago. Which should tell you that I'm likely the only one calling it a new building these days; it and I are not far apart in vintage. And he experienced something today with me that was a first for him in his over eighty years. Get your minds out of the gutter (but I am curious to know what you're guessing) :-)
I detest moving. Twice in just over three months, never again. And I mean it. Please remind me of this week if I ever mention moving again. If it doesn't work, hit me over the head with something heavy, preferably an item I never got around to find a proper place for in our small apartment.
I hate styrofoam, and styrofoam hates me. Hours that should have been spent unpacking tonight were instead spent vacuuming up and picking off those annoying bits that fly everywhere when you try to break it up into smaller pieces for the garbage. Please explain how styrofoam found its way under my clothes, as I found the case to be a short time ago when getting ready for bed. The stuff is evil.
I'm shorter than I thought I was. Or they're making kitchen cupboards taller. In any case, I can't reach many of them in my new kitchen. Why did I not notice this before committing? It must have been those beautiful Corian counters, true love blinded me. It's happened before, apparently I'm a slow learner.
Cheesies (which to my delight were discovered to be gluten-free by my daughter last week) make a perfectly sensible dinner all on their own. My new home, new rules.
Trust a new vacuum cleaner, it doesn't lie.
It's okay to enjoy the eye candy that was my telephone and internet installer tonight. Good Lord, I'd forgotten that sometimes men come in arrestingly adorable packages after the age of twenty five. Who am I kidding? Have I forgotten that I watched a Bradley Cooper movie the other night? Just his dimples alone can put a silly grin on my face.
I like to believe that I can think outside of the box. That's what I'd like to do right now, think everything I own outside of its box. Channelling Endora, Samantha and Tabitha, and proving how old I am at the same time.
There was a time that I loved to map out room dimensions and furniture sizes/placement onto graph paper. Not so much anymore. Furniture lands where it lands on Saturday and I'll deal with it then. In our wildest dreams there's no way to squish half the contents of a four bedroom plus finished basement house into a one bedroom apartment. And I'm no hoarder, it's just the detritus of almost fifty years, a photography business and the raising of one terrific daughter who LOVES books (who starts her second year of university tomorrow!) Stay tuned for the sale and givewaways folks. It's gonna be big and it's gonna hurt. Whatever photo equipment I'd said I could never part with when you offered to buy it, it's time to ask me again.
No matter how lovely the kitchen, there's just no hiding a DNR that has to hang on the fridge. Which by the way isn't magnetic on the front as I tonight discovered, it's stainless steel that is just pretending. What is this world coming to?
I've just realized that I forgot to ask the telephone installer how to access my voicemail. Or he forgot to tell me, in which case he's completely forgiven. Adorableness gives him a free pass. Completely unlike me to let a detail like that slide for several hours, however it's been a very unusual day.
Here's one of my fun coincidences. The Cancer Society volunteer who drove me to the hospital today turns out to have lived in my new building when it was first built almost forty years ago. Which should tell you that I'm likely the only one calling it a new building these days; it and I are not far apart in vintage. And he experienced something today with me that was a first for him in his over eighty years. Get your minds out of the gutter (but I am curious to know what you're guessing) :-)
Monday, September 3, 2012
A Thoughtful Gesture Stretches a Very Long Way
Sometimes the most amazing things happen when you least expect them. Today so far had been a tough one, in bed and feeling run down from the move prep over the last few days. Not to mention the prospect of starting radiation in one week with the knowledge that I'll be dealing with the side effects alone, it's scaring me silly at this moment.
I just got a call from the owner/pharmacist of the Shoppers Drug Mart near our old place. She'd remembered that I'd inquired many months ago about the cost of a nutritional supplement that I'm supposed to start my day with (the meds make it hard to tolerate a proper breakfast). I'd thanked her for checking, but it was unfortunately way out of my budget (I'd received generous samples from social services prior to that, but had run out). Laurie had several cases come her way today due to a cancelled special order and she called to offer them to me as a donation.
The funny thing is that I was going to call her tomorrow anyway to ask if my new place would be within her delivery area; they'd given me fantastic service over the years and I'd hoped that I could continue to give them the business for my numerous meds (the answer is yes, they'd be happy to include me in their deliveries even though out of the official boundaries).
The pharmacist is Laurie Doyle at SDM at Millcroft Plaza in Burlington, she also runs the new SDM at Appleby Line and Dundas. If you ever find her across the counter when picking up your prescription, please do let her know how much her thoughtfulness meant to me.
It blows me away over and over again just how kind people can be ♥
I just got a call from the owner/pharmacist of the Shoppers Drug Mart near our old place. She'd remembered that I'd inquired many months ago about the cost of a nutritional supplement that I'm supposed to start my day with (the meds make it hard to tolerate a proper breakfast). I'd thanked her for checking, but it was unfortunately way out of my budget (I'd received generous samples from social services prior to that, but had run out). Laurie had several cases come her way today due to a cancelled special order and she called to offer them to me as a donation.
The funny thing is that I was going to call her tomorrow anyway to ask if my new place would be within her delivery area; they'd given me fantastic service over the years and I'd hoped that I could continue to give them the business for my numerous meds (the answer is yes, they'd be happy to include me in their deliveries even though out of the official boundaries).
The pharmacist is Laurie Doyle at SDM at Millcroft Plaza in Burlington, she also runs the new SDM at Appleby Line and Dundas. If you ever find her across the counter when picking up your prescription, please do let her know how much her thoughtfulness meant to me.
It blows me away over and over again just how kind people can be ♥
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