Friday, November 17, 2017


We’re off to Chicago today. I get to room with two of the nicest women. I met these women through Alyssa. They’re the moms of two of her best friends. But honestly, if I’d met them in any other way, I can totally see us being friends even without having daughters who appear to adore each other.

I also get to spend some awesome time with my girl. I feel so incredibly lucky that she still wants me around. She said that she and her group of friends, the ones she’s rooming with, were discussing who they wanted to be their chaperone and they all declared they wanted me.


She told me recently that her friends Amelia and Sabrina were arguing over which one of them was more like me. Ha! I laughed and said, they want to be like a middle-aged mom? She said they enjoy my snark and my humor and both think they’re more like me than the other.

Alyssa declared, “But since you’re my actual mom, I think I’m the one who is more like you.”

How freaking adorable is that? I mean seriously?

Her other friend, Tessa, follows me on Instagram and Alyssa said that the few times I’ve posted a picture of me after chemo, Tessa will get a little teary-eyed and say, “It just makes me so sad because she doesn’t deserve this.”

I’m getting a little weepy here myself.

Alyssa has some amazing friends and I’m so incredibly grateful. High school can be a tough time in one’s life and I’m so glad she has an great team of friends who are so supportive of each other. Though, obviously, they’re also just a little competitive, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, unless they’re competing to be more like me because, yeah, maybe not do that, kiddos?

Not because I’m not an awesome 47 year old wife and mom and human being but because, yeah, they’re all 14/15 year old girls who need to maybe not aspire to be me right at this point in their lives. They’re funny, though and I’m definitely flattered that they think I’m awesome enough to want to be like me.

And lest anyone worry about Olivia while Alyssa and I are galavanting our way through Chicago for the next couple of days, Liv is getting to spend some quality one on one time with her very favorite Gram. I’ve got her mostly packed for her night and day with Gram and she’s already planning the things she’s going to take with her. She’s also asked me at least ten times if her dad is taking her to Gram’s house or if Gram is coming to our house to get her. I promised I’d call Gram and ask her that very question at some point. I better get on that.

This means Tom gets about 40 hours of peace and quiet with maybe about fifteen minutes of Liv time just to keep him on his toes. I’m pretty sure he’s very much looking forward to having an empty house all to himself. Not that I blame him.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

An Eleventh Birthday

Olivia will be eleven on the Monday after Thanksgiving.

This Sunday, her best bud, her favorite cousin, that imp Jaxon, will be ten. His dad got a coupon from Jungle George’s in Fort Wayne offering a free birthday party.

We considered doing a joint birthday for Jax and Liv on Sunday, the day my brother was able to schedule the free party.

At first Olivia was cool with that. But the more she thought about it, the more she wanted to have her ‘party’ on her actual birthday.

Last night, she and I talked about what she considered a party. She wants Barbie decorations and plates. She wants a pink cake with pink frosting and maybe a giant pink B on the cake denoting that it is a Barbie cake.


She went on to tell me that she wants to look like Barbie too. She wants her makeup to make her look like Barbie and she wants to wear Barbie pink clothes.

Okay, but…

She wants her Barbie styling head to be the centerpiece of the table on the night of her birthday.

Okay, fine to all that but does she understand that this ‘party’ will be her, me, her dad, her sister, and her Gram and Pawp?

She nodded.


I continued the conversation with, “You know, maybe next year when you turn twelve, if you’re talking to your classmates, maybe we can have a party where we invite some of them.”

She sort of rolled her eyes at me, as if to say, “Whatever Mom. We all know I have no intention of speaking to my classmates, like, EVER.”

Except I kind of think she WANTS to speak to her classmates. She wants to interact. She wants to be part of the fun, the groups, she antics that right now, she just observes. She just hasn’t figure out how to break the ice. I mean, we’re six years in at her school and she’s talked to maybe two classmates. So she’s got this precedence that she’s set and maybe she feels like talking to them has become this HUGE thing that she doesn’t even want to overcome.

Who knows? She still received speech therapy at school, which emphasizes communicating with her peers. That’s her biggest challenge these days.

So maybe having a goal, a friend birthday party when she turned twelve, will help her work toward talking to her peers.

It can’t hurt.

Wednesday, November 15, 2017


Last weekend my mom bought the book on which the movie Wonder is based. Kelly Rippa told her viewing audience that they should read the book before seeing the movie and my mom takes her morning talk show hosts’ advice (on occasion, let’s not be crazy.)

She read it in about a day and a half. Then she gave it to me. She told me she didn’t cry reading it nearly as much as Kelly reportedly did but that there were some moments where she did.

She warned me that the parts during which she cried were more about the older sister than about the main character, Auggie.

You see, I’ve shared my worries with my mom concerning Alyssa and the struggles that go along with being the typical sibling of a special needs kid.

If you’ve read even one Jodi Picault novel, you know that typical kids are at high risk for ‘issues’ when they have siblings with special needs. And we know why. It’s because the mother always, ALWAYS puts the needs of the ‘special’ kid first.

One of my biggest fears has always been that Alyssa would feel ‘less than’ because she’s typical; that she’d feel pushed aside because her sister has more needs than she does. I’ve voiced those fears to my mom on more than one occasion.

Which is why she gently warned me that in the book Wonder, the older sister has feelings of being the second place child because she’s typical, she doesn’t have special needs.

So I was warned.

I’m only about a third of the way into the book but already I can tell that this author has been kinder to the mom than Jodi Picault ever is. She doesn’t ignore her daughter, her ‘typical’ child. Sure, Auggie’s needs are often more pressing but the mom has (so far) noticed her daughter’s need for attention, her need to matter.

I hope I’m better than most of the mom’s Jodi Picault has written about. I hope I put Alyssa’s needs right up there with Olivia’s. I hope Alyssa always, ALWAYS knows how important she is, how amazing she is, how much I love her.

I hope she also knows how much I like her, that I think she’s just such a neat person and that she’s one of my very favorite people in the whole world and I will always choose to spend time with her over doing anything else. I pray she knows this. I pray I manage to show it in our day to day interactions, our hugs at the end of an evening together, our time on the couch when she’s showing me videos and memes.

I love both of my girls and acknowledge that their needs are different but neither one has more needs, nor are the needs of one more important than the needs of the other. It’s my job to figure out how to make sure they know this, even as I’m putting one off to meet the needs of the other. I hope I balance that well. I pray for the wisdom and strength to do that every single day.

Tuesday, November 14, 2017


This past weekend was pretty good. Since was almost two weeks out from my last chemo, I felt good enough to bake cookies, sweep the kitchen floor, put away several loads of laundry (that Tom washed and dried, he’s still totally my hero.)

I also managed to pick up the toy room a little. That room…OMG. It’s a nightmare. I need to go in there and spend about twelve hours purging the tiny little clutter-boxes that fill that room. There are things in there that need to be tossed, donated, or burned. We keep the door closed most of the time just because it’s depressing to even look in there.

But other than the depression that is the toy room, I felt like I got some things done that hadn’t been done since my surgery.

I mean, I’m trying here. And I feel the need to record what I was able to do twelve days post-chemo this time around.

Which wasn’t much, really but it was something. It was more than I’ve done in the time since my surgery, more than two months ago.


Cookies – they were baked.
Laundry was folded and put away.
There were a few pieces of furniture that were dusted (but so many more still needs it.)
Sheets were washed and put back on beds.
Dishes were washed (several times, go me!) and put away.
Kitchen and bathroom floors – swept (but not mopped, maybe next weekend?)
Tiny crappy toys – cleaned up off the floor of the toy room. Thrown away? Not yet but…someday, hopefully soon.
Pictures Olivia colored have been taped to the mirrors in her room. She’s very proud of these pictures and she should be. Her coloring has come a long way and I want to encourage her to continue to grow and be proud of her work.

Oh yeah, I parented too. Go me.

Monday, November 13, 2017

Another Post about My Hair

Okay, one of these days I will stop talking about my hair. Maybe. No promises.

Did I mention that we used Tom’s clippers last week and buzzed it off? Yes? Okay, sorry for repeating myself but it’s worth it to declare how much freer I feel now that it’s gone.

I hate being a slave to my hair. That’s what I felt like last week. My hair was all I could think about. Had more fallen out? Was it poking out of my hat? Was it all over my shoulders? Was it going to fall into my food?

Thoughts of my stupid hair consumed me.

So I took control. We cut it off at the root, if you will.

There is still quite a bit on my head, acting as a sort of Velcro for my hats.

But it’s no longer the thing I think about constantly.

So I guess what I’m saying is, if you’re facing chemo and thinning hair, when the hair has taken over all your thoughts, go for it. Shave that stuff off. You will feel twenty pounds lighter, metaphorically.

I feel free and light and like I can get on with my life without policing a near-constant steam of hair falling from my head. For what it’s worth.

Saturday, November 11, 2017

The Chemo Diaries

Chemo Diaries
For posterity I thought I’d write up a bit of what life was like after the second round of chemo. Just to remind myself, I looked back at how the first round went.

Round 1:
Day of chemo: High from the anti-nausea meds. No real effects of the chemo felt. I walked six laps around our yard (one square acre) grooving to the music on my old phone.
Day one after: Felt rundown, as if I were coming down with a cold or the flu. General tiredness. Left work after six hours.

Day two after: Still rundown, a little achy. Noticed my incision had started to seep a little. Ick. Worked nine hours this day.

Day three after: Woke up at 4am feeling blood/fluid running down my side from my incision. Totally stressed over this. Walked into my surgeon’s office as they opened that morning. They said was fine, normal, told me to keep it covered with gauze. At this point, I should have taken stock out in the gauze industry.

By Saturday, which would have been day four after chemo, I was feeling pretty good. I managed to go to the grocery store, take the girls to lunch and only had to rest a bit when we got home.

Round 2 was harder. So much harder.
Day of chemo: Not high at all from the anti-nausea meds. Bummer. Instead, the feelings of tiredness and general yuck started right after the infusion ended. Boooo!
Day one after: Woke up five times to pee in the night. Each time I laid back down I had to curl into a ball to try and settle my stomach. Managed to get through eight hours at work. Go me.

Day two after: Still tired, still achy, still sort of sick to my stomach. The anti-nausea pills my nurse prescribed help but not much. Weird taste (not exactly metallic) and what feels like a film in my mouth. Just all around feeling sort of gross. My hair started falling out today.

Day three after: Okay, so my stupid incision is bleeding…again. Not the normal day to day seepage but actual blood this time. Yeah, it must be the Friday after chemo. Damn it. Spent some time in the surgeon’s office again. This time, I’ve been advised to start packing gauze into my now-open wound. Yay. One more gross thing my poor husband has to do for me. Hair still thinning but not too bad yet.

Day four after: Still tired. Still queasy. Make it through lunch with my mom and Liv (Lyss is in Defiance for an honors choir.) Wore a hat to town even though hair isn’t too thin yet.

Day five after: Go to Defiance to watch Alyssa sing. She’s so beautiful. I love that she gets to do these things. I’m also so grateful that she has friends whose parents are so awesome to pick her up and take her to the practices for this sort of thing without me having to ask. I eat Lemon Heads and mints to counteract the feeling of yuck in my mouth. Indigestion is a near constant battle. Somehow, I managed to avoid heartburn through two pregnancies and now…it feels like chemo has decided to make up for that. Hair thinner still…wearing a hat constantly now.

Day six after: Took Olivia to a dentist appointment. While walking around the mall afterward with her, I was so tired. Needed to get some strawberry lemonade to buck up and get from one end of the mall to the other. Hair…still there but starting to get annoying.

Day seven after: Happy birthday to me. My hair is driving me freaking crazy. It’s poking and stabbing and just…ugh. Oh yes, and joy of joys, today was my first day of experiencing the dreaded diarrhea. Wheee!!! No birthday pie for me. So sad.

Day eight after: Okay, seriously with the hair. I can’t stand it. It’s everywhere, it’s stabby, it’s annoying. I’m approaching Gollum status. Not only is the heartburn still here and the occasional feeling of just yuck, this hair thing is making even the best moments feel icky. My mom offers to use Tom’s clippers and just cut it all off. We go for it and oh my goodness, the freedom I felt the moment she was done. There is still a very short bit of hair left, sort of like Velcro for my hats but it feels so much better I can’t even describe it. I still slept with a hat on because the ‘velcro’ hair still on my head kept catching on my pillow. But even that was not a bother considering I know longer have strands long enough to poke out my hats. I don’t have to clean out my hats when I get home. I can shower without feeling like I’m attempting to wash a shedding dog with piles of hair on my hands and in the bottom of the shower. Whew, just…relief.

Day nine after: Still moments of general tiredness or feeling less than great but mostly good.

And now we wait another week and a few days for the next chemo. Until then…

Friday, November 10, 2017

And Now For Something Different

Woah, I didn’t mean for this to become the all cancer, all chemo, all about me, all the time blog. Sorry. But wait, maybe not so sorry. I mean, this is MY blog and so, yes, I’m going to write what’s on my mind and these days, it really is pretty much all cancer, all chemo, all me, all the time.

Except when it isn’t.

I had parent/teacher conferences with Liv’s teachers yesterday.

They were basically what I expected.

She loves to read, she excels at spelling. She hates math. She needs a lot of supervision and yet…just the other day, she sat at her desk, her teacher sat six feet away at her own desk and Olivia worked on a project for twenty minutes without stopping to doodle. Olivia couldn’t not see if her teacher was anywhere nearby because her desk (O’s desk, that is) faces away from the teacher’s desk. They did that because Olivia and another classmate have bonded and if they can see each other, they giggle and act silly all day long. Now they’re back to back. Smart teachers!

(Tangent: The classmate that Liv has bonded with is in first grade. This makes sense to me because emotionally, I think that Liv is about 6 or 7 years old. So the first grader is her emotional peer. I take heart in this. It means she CAN connect with peers, they might just always be younger chronologically than she is. And that’s okay.)

She’s come a long way in the six or so weeks that she’s been in the smaller classroom. She’s working more independently (most of the time, we still get reports that she had a tough day and didn’t stay on task but they’re fewer and farther between.) Her handwriting has improved immensely. There is less doodling on her homework and classwork pages.

She’s still in the typical classroom for science and social studies. Her teachers wanted to pull her out for social studies but realized that if they did, she’d be getting pulled out often enough that it might raise some red flags with the state. So…no. We’re going to keep things as they are.

I mentioned that I’m actually okay with that because I truly believe that Olivia gets something, even if it’s very subtle, out of being around her typical, age-appropriate peers. It might not come through for years yet, but being with these kids, even for a couple of hours, during a couple of subjects, will help her in the long run. Sure, she might need extra help with the academics, but school is about more than the grades we get. Her teachers were both glad to hear that I felt that way because they agree.

I ended up spending twenty minutes with O’s newer teacher, the one who works with her most closely. Then I headed down to meet with the typical classroom teacher. She’s awesome and wanted me to understand that she wasn’t giving up on Olivia even though she’s only with her for two subjects.

I told her I understood that and never thought she didn’t want Liv in her classroom. I pointed out that Olivia is an enigma that we’re all still trying to figure out.

We talked about Liv for maybe ten minutes then she started asking me about my treatment.

It turns out she’d faced a cancer diagnosis not even a year ago and we compared notes about chemo and radiation and recovery. She didn’t have breast cancer, so her chemo was completely different. She never felt sick and didn’t lose her hair. But she was stage 3, which is SO SCARY and is currently doing very well.

And look at that, we came back full circle and are talking about me and cancer again. How about that?