Pause for Thought

The first time I had breast cancer was when I was 37 years old.  It caught everyone, including my doctor, off-guard; I was young and a non-smoker, with no history of breast cancer in the family whatsoever.  Three surgeries and a series of radiation treatments later, I was put on Tamoxifen, a drug that prevents estrogen from binding to its receptors in the breast.  Since some breast cancers need estrogen in order to grow, the Tamoxifen essentially cut off its food supply.

Of course, when we mess with the body's normal functions, that usually means side-effects.  In my case, my oncologist, gynecologist and radiation oncologist all expressed relief that I had already had all the children I intended to; early menopause, they all said.  That's what the Tamoxifen will do to you.  I took the drug for 5 years and my body obediently began fulfilling my doctors' prediction: I developed insomnia, night sweats, and hot flashes, my sex drive took a nose dive, my skin, which was already hyper-sensitive from the radiation, developed rashes at the drop of a hat.  I actually saw a dermatologist for the first time in my life; she treated me for eczema as well as warts that developed in embarrassing places in the treatment area. 

But the periods kept on coming, right on schedule, just slightly lighter and shorter in duration.  Just to keep things interesting, I developed new PMS symptoms--cramping and bloating unlike anything I had before or since; my feet would blow up like balloons no matter what I ate or drank.  I had more than one bad moment when my rings would not come off and my bangle bracelet got stuck halfway on and halfway off my hand.  I told my oncologist about my symptoms.  Dr. C., nodded and said, "I bet you've been getting leg cramps, too, right around now."  He was right, but until he'd mentioned it, I hadn't made that connection.  Looks like my side effects were proceeding on schedule.  Dr. C. is a very nice man.  I would have hated to disappoint him.

I told my gynecologist, Dr. Y. about my symptoms--especially the one about the sex drive--she hemmed and hawed a bit and said that Tamoxifen would do that to you.  The treatment for lowered sex drive, unfortunately, is hormone therapy and in my case, that would have been counter-indicated.  Well, what about after the Tamoxifen, I asked, would things go back to normal then?  More hemming and hawing and then she said, "Well, but you'd be 5 years older then, wouldn't you?"  

So the 5 years went by and I stopped taking Tamoxifen.  Two years after that I received my second cancer diagnosis and despite a mastectomy and reconstruction (still working on that as we speak), I am still managing to flummox my doctors because at every check-up, every doctor expresses surprise that I have all the symptoms of menopause except for the big one:  the PAUSE. 

I was thinking about that recently and thought, it's symbolic, really--I have been supremely fortunate.  Both times, the cancer was caught early and though there were times treatment was uncomfortable or inconvenient, tiring or frustrating, ultimately, I knew these were temporary interludes in my life and soon, I would be getting out of "Pause" mode and returning to my everyday life.  Other people aren't so fortunate.

So when I feel like complaining these days, whether it is about work, my family, my ongoing treatment, I pause to remind myself about the people who have reason to complain, but don't.  It's amazing how much better the reminder makes me feel. 

Aaaaand, we're back!

We put up with the lousy internet connection via Clearwire for about 6 weeks; I was amazed at E's tolerance.  Then again, he has an iPhone so maybe he wasn't suffering as much as C and I were!  I have to say that I didn't fully realize how much I have come to depend on the internet for work and for leisure time; I could put up with not spending time checking my Facebook account or skimming through the craislist ads but not being able to check my email accounts, work on this blog, or do research for my classes...infuriating! 

So we are back with Road Runner and the difference in speed has been phenomenal.  It feels good to be back in action!  Beep, beep!

We are experiencing technical difficulties...

I love technology and all the time and labor-saving factors that come with it but, man!  When a device doesn't work the way it's supposed to, it's maddening!  Our home internet connection has been sketchy since the beginning of December and it has mostly affected anything gmail related; that means my personal email, my school organization's email, google groups and this blog!  In essence, the majority of things I used the internet for.

The worst part of it is the inconsistency.  First, I had no gmail access.  Then I found I could access through Internet Explorer but not my default browser, Mozilla Firefox.  Then it turned into: sometimes I could access one account but not the other, sometimes I could log into the account but when I tried to view a message, I would get kicked out of the account or get a message saying to check the internet connection, sometimes I could do everything I needed to but when I came back an hour or so later...nothing.

It's frustrating, annoying and non-productive; three things that are guaranteed to drive me batty.  So my blog is not falling by the wayside; it is just a temporary victim of my technological issues.  Just wanted to let you know...stay tuned!

Resolution Revolution

I definitely need/want to make some changes in my life.  I hereby resolve that this year, I will:

1.  Make physical exercise a priority--that means getting back on a regular dog-walking schedule.  Seems like everytime we got onto a schedule something happened to disrupt it.  Good resolution for both me and the fur boys.

2.  Let go of extra responsibility--I have been advising Health Occupations Students of America (HOSA) for 6 years now.  It's time to let someone else on the team take it over and I'm not going to feel guilty about it.  I started the organization from ground up and I'm proud of it.  Someone else needs to keep things going!

3.  Get back to singing--sometimes I can't believe how much of a priority this used to be in my life; work, childbirth, they didn't interfere with the rehearsals, sing-outs or quarteting.  Now, it's pretty much the first thing that gets sacrificed.  Not anymore!  My chorus is planning on chartering this year and going on to compete in 2012.  I intend to be there!

4.  Entertain more--this is another activity that has fallen by the wayside.  I know my friends are super-busy and so are we, but I am going to create events for us to get together for.  Maybe not always the whole gang at once, but a few people here and there over the course of the year!

There it is, in black and white.  It's not a long list but in the words of Yoda:  "Either do or do not.  There is no try."  I intend to.

Christmas Then...and Now

I intended to post this well before Christmas but Clearwire/gmail was having issues...better late than never!

Christmas has always had a special magical quality for me and though I know my children enjoy the holiday, somehow, things are just not quite the same. 

It starts with the music.  Christmas music is arguably some of the most beautiful ever written.  It's pleasant to listen to and I love to sing along with them (singability is a huge factor for any song for me).  Though I am not particularly religious, I still find the traditional songs to be poignant; I remember wishing (when I was about 8) that I could be a Christian.  Just for the holiday season so I could sing the songs and truly be a part of the wonder and awe I felt in the lyrics (I assumed it was a given that came with the religious label). I am often sadly amazed by how few of these carols can be sung by my children; A hears Christmas music piped in at work these days but even when she was a small child, she only picked up a few of the most frequently played songs.  Both C and T, who play a number of songs for band, know the tunes but don't always know the lyrics.  Many's the time we are driving along, a song will come on the radio and one of them will say, "Hey, that sounds familiar..."

Then there's the tree.  When we were kids, picking out the tree was a family affair. We would go down to the lot and look at dozens of trees.  Mom would stand them up and shake them out to see if too many needles fell off. We had to make sure it wasn't too tall for our low ceiling and we had to make sure if there was a bald spot it could be cleverly hidden against the wall.  My brother and sister and I couldn't wait for Mom to finishing stringing the lights on and each ornament we personally hung felt like an old friend.  Now my family has been ordering trees to support Habilitat for years now.  We go down to the pick-up site, show them our ticket, one of the workers shows us several trees in the type and height that we purchased, we select one, and we cart it home.  It is all very brisk and business-like. E and I put the tree in the stand immediately and fill it with water but the decorating is often put on hold for at least a day or two; my kids' schedules have reached a point where we have to figure out on which day and time the majority of them will be home.  This year, we decorated the tree without A.  She put her decorations on the tree a few days later. We could tell she was in a hurry because all her ornaments ended up in the front instead of being equally distributed all the way around.

Then there's the delicious anticipation.  I remember sitting under the tree for long stretches at a time; sometimes just to admire the tree and breathe in its unmatchable fragrance and sometimes, along with my brother and sister, it was to poke and prod at the tantalizingly wrapped packages beneath the tree.  Anything new that was added was immediately noted.  The wonder and the waiting.  It was all part of the magic.  These days, my kids walk past the tree and barely acknowledge it.  Maybe it's because our house is a lot bigger than the one I grew up in; it's easier for a tree to become part of the scenery when you aren't passing within inches of it several times a day.  So far, the only "kid" I had to extract from underneath the tree was Rusty; he had found a package addressed to "Judy's furry children" from my co-worker Sandi.  That particular package ended up on the dining room table until gift-opening time!

When E and I first got married, we began the Christmas Eve tradition of taking A to a movie.  The theaters were almost completely deserted so a squirming, talkative child was not the disruption it would be at other times.  It was also a good way to tire her out enough to sleep that night.  We continued the tradition with the boys. Unfortunately for the past couple of years, A has not joined us.  Her work schedule around the holiday picks up and she is often too tired to want to join in.  This year, C was also not available on the Eve either; UH played in the Sheraton Bowl and whither the team goest, so shall the band. We did do movie night on the 23rd instead of eliminating it completely, but it did feel a bit strange.

But is that just me?  Now that the kids are so much older and beginning to truly build their own lives, how important are the little traditions we've built up over the years?  Would they notice if we didn't have crunchy jumble cookies when we decorate the tree?  Would they care if their gifts from us were placed under the tree ahead of time, rather than placed in their huge personalized stockings on Christmas Eve?  What if I changed the dinner menu or ceased selecting a new ornament for each kid every year?  Would it matter?

Of course it would.  Because traditions are not just the time and effort that are put into them, nor are they merely the acts themselves; they are also the feelings and memories that surround them.  I cannot assume that just because my children are growing older and their priorities needed to change that the traditions mean any less to them today than they did 10 years ago. My children may not be able to join us for Christmas Eve movie night or sing the exact words to the Top 10 Christmas Carols of the Ages, but they do have fond memories of meals shared, gifts given and time spent during this magical time of the year.  I know.  Because when I think of my Christmas past, what shines brightest and clearest is the sense of joy and family I experienced with my own mother and siblings.  This remembered joy makes me miss my brother and sister at Christmas more than at any other time of the year and will ensure that our Christmas traditions endure and adapt with each stage of our children's lives and with every addition to our family.

A Merry Christmas...today and always!

Being a Dog

There are dogs who pull sleds, guide the blind, assist the disabled, locate missing people and alert their families to danger.  There are dogs who do tricks for our enjoyment, sniff out drugs, guard property and protect their owners.  Then there are my dogs.

We have two dogs:  Rusty is a 6-year old Tibetan Spaniel and Farley is a 4-year old Cavalier King Charles Spaniel.  Both dogs are purebred.  Both dogs are beautiful.  Both dogs are neurotic:  Rusty takes strange and irrational dislikes to certain people and no matter what they try to do to win him over (feed him treats, ignore him, talk to him) he doesn't want anything to do with them.  He is so extremely suspicious of strangers, that if he were human, he'd count his change twice before he left the register and if he had hands, he'd slam people up against a wall and frisk them for concealed weapons before allowing them in the house.  Rusty is always on alert and always on patrol--he figured out quickly that higher elevations provide the best vantage points; when he was a pup, he scaled straight up a vertical book shelf to get out of his pen.  It gave me quite a start to see him calmly perched on the 4th shelf, nearly 5 feet off the ground!

Farley, on the other hand, will bark at strangers but he is so food-oriented, anyone can win him over with a liver treat or two.  A huge part of Farley's world revolves around his digestive tract:  he is a total food whore and is willing to go to any length to get something, anything, to eat.  I fully believe that he would sell me out for a chunk of steak.  He drools copiously while watching other people eat and before we discovered he had a corn allergy, he would have regular bouts of diarrhea; diarrhea on a long-haired dog is a pain but diarrhea on a long-haired dog who races around in an attempt to rid himself of the mess is just disgusting.  The allergy also made him, uh, windy.  Since he sleeps between our pillows, both E and I found his emissions extremely volatile. Farley, who does suffer from a congenital eye defect, always barks when he sees A; he barks as if she were a total stranger, even if he saw her earlier in the day, even if she is just emerging from her bedroom or rounding the corner from one room to the next. Sometimes we aren't sure if it's his poor eyesight or his seeming inability to hold onto too many thoughts at once; he is the doggy equivalent of a goldfish who swims to one side of its bowl and says, "Oh, look!  A castle!"  Then swims around, comes back and says, "Oh, look!  A castle!"

Odes describing acts of bravery and heroism will never be written about these two.  They lack the temperament to be trained as therapy or guide dogs and have no interest in learning to wind surf, skateboard or ride a Harley. Yes, they have their flaws but they also have one special quality:  they are dogs.

To be a dog means to be appreciative--simply and unquestioningly grateful.  For food.  For affection.  For the opportunity to walk and explore in the company of someone they love.  For a good tummy rub and a scratch behind the ears. For interesting scents and sights. You know, the simple things in life.

To be a dog means to be accepting--they don't judge or criticize. Dogs don't care what car you drive or whether or not there are designer labels on your clothing.  You can cuss in front of your dog without worrying that he'll think less of you for it.  You can undress in front of your dog and never fear that he will point out the unattractive parts of your body or comment that holiday eating just might be catching up with you!

To be a dog means knowing when and how to be present.  Having a bad day and feel the need to mull in silence?  A human will try to get you to talk or offer some advice (I know I tend to do that!)  Dogs just are.  They give you a lick or a nudge on your hand.  They cuddle up against you.  They wait you out and when your mood brightens, so does theirs. 

Rusty and Farley may not be the dogs of whom stories are written but they, along with their predecessor Kirby, have seen me through surgery and sickness, sadness and frustration, anger and fear, in ways that my human family and friends, no matter how loving and supporting, could not. 

I will always have a dog in my life. 

Costco sucks your brains!

I hate shopping at Costco.  I especially hate shopping at Iwilei Costco which, wouldn't you know it, is the one closest to my home.  First of all, I can't stand the parking lot; each row looks pretty much like the next so unless you park in the very last row on any of the sides, it's hard to remember exactly where you left your car. Then, the way the parking lot is arranged, there is a big section fronting the store where no one is clear who has the right of way; some drivers inch along desperately trying to make eye contact with other drivers to indicate their intent to go while other drivers suddenly speed up to assert their self-given right to proceed.  As this area is also full of pedestrians, some with loaded carts, this makes for potentially dangerous situations.

Secondly, the shopping carts are parked on the right of the store; this means you have to get your cart then cross through the line of people exiting the building in order to get to the entrance which is on the left.  That creates another huge pile up of people and wheeled vehicles. 

Thirdly, and most annoying are the people.  I often have occasion to be in places where large groups of people gather yet only at Costco are there so many random acts of idiocy in such a small period of time. The biggest crowd of people is near the doors, either checking in or checking out so why would you suddenly come to an abrupt stop to have a conversation with your companion?  The aisles are wide enough for 3 carts to fit through so if we all stay to our right, that creates a nice open space down the middle--unless someone decides to park there.  And they usually do.  Parents allow small children to push their carts; many of the children aren't big enough to see over the handlebar nor are they strong enough to maneuver a cart full of heavy items.  Sometimes the kids can't stop the carts; that's where all the nice adult ankles come in handy--instant wheel wedgers!

And some people do things that the rest of us just don't get.  Today a woman was standing in the checkout line; she was clearly waiting for someone judging by the way she kept turning around and scanning the area behind her but instead of getting out of the line, she continued to stand there and even waved several people, including me, ahead of her.  That was courteous enough but since she didn't move her wagon or herself, that meant whoever she waved through had to maneuver around her and load their items onto the conveyor belt with this woman's wagon pressing against their butts. 

Since I am assuming that not everyone who shops at Costco is already an idiot (I have to make this assumption since I shop there as well), there must be something in that physical space that creates what C calls a "stupidity field" (he hates to shop at Costco even more than I do).  Why else would the designer have created that nice new overflow parking lot and not put in any cart returns?

Costco sucks your brains...and even its own people are not immune to its effects.