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Showing posts from July, 2022

Scars

 My summer Facebook memories show quite a few pictures from summers past. Although I do love a good flashback, there are photos of me with a scarf on my head or with really short hair. Both scenes make me cringe. I want to delete them all. It was an extremely difficult time in my life and I absolutely hated how I looked. When you go through chemo, many worry about their lack of hair. It’s not about vanity. It’s about identity. It’s about looking in a mirror and not having a shouting reminder that you’re going through cancer. Because believe me, we don’t need any reminders. I am 5 years out. My hair is long again. My eyelashes and brows are back. I have more scars than I care to count. Any kind of low neckline shows my scar from where my port was, and I have little dark pen marks that show where radiation beamed me up 35 times. I’m happier and healthy. I’m also acutely aware I’m lucky to have my scars and long hair. So as much as I want to delete the old pictures, And as much as I can’t

Pot stirrers

 Oldest is off to college which means I joined the school parent Facebook page(s). By pages, I mean the “official”‘one (assuming looked over by administration) and the “unofficial” one (run by parents of incoming freshman.) Guess which one has me riled up today?  Yup. Unofficial. Because people like to stir pots. I refuse to give into the shit stirrer and I’ve been warned by friends, who have been in this incoming freshman parent role before, that there’s a shit stirrer(s) at every school. Why?  Because people like to complain. Listen, I am queen of complaints, but it is usually reserved for my husband or bff; not a group of nervous parents who are wondering if their kid is going to fit in, excel, eat, find the dining hall and remember to do laundry. Shit stirrer decides to post that she met a kid who is a student  at (unnamed college) and is not happy.   Imagine an unhappy kid? Unthinkable!  A kid who doesn’t like the food at college?  Blasphemy!  One kid, out  of thousands , who she

Beach day

  You know what’s great about the beach when you have older kids?  The screaming and whining kids don’t belong to you. But they once did.  So parents of little ones please do not feel the need to apologize. Or look mortified. Because we have been there. And yes, I know you may be envious because my kid is sitting with AirPods not even talking. Our they’re out boogie boarding. Or maybe they’re not even at the beach with me allowing some quiet time. And yes, it’s true.  It’s peaceful. But your kid screaming and crying won’t last forever.  And it’s a public beach so no need for you to look at the rest of us apologetically.  Your kid isn’t bothering us.  They’re kids. And although you may want my life right now- I’m looking at you snuggling with your sleeping baby on your lap And I kinda miss your life. So you’ll see new Mom that some day you will be in my beach chair sneaking glances at a different beach chair remembering that the days are oh so long but my how they years are short .

How do I just live?

 I have a hard time knowing how to “just live.” Let sleeping dogs lie. Let’s wait and see. Leave well enough alone.  Yea.  Not me. I’m a bit impulsive and I often don’t count to 10 before reacting.  I try so hard, every day, to live in the moment. I suck at it. My mind is constantly 5 steps ahead and my brain absolutely doesn’t know how to shut down at night. If there’s a problem going on in my life I’m always thinking the what if’s or making up scenarios.  Thank god I married the half glass full guy because he is forever stuck with his half glsss empty wife. I really do try. I want to let those sleeping dogs lie. I know first hand that life throws you curveballs (kinda, like every few years if you live in my shoes) so I know I need to be all zen in the moment. And sometimes I do rock it. I just did a gorgeous walk on the beach and totally zoned out. Until I walked back home and listened to construction going on outside my house and the dog has to go to the vet because she’s not acting

F cancer

 Had a scare a few weeks ago.  I’m fine.  I thought I was fine which is why I avoided having it checked out for a couple of months.  Because I’ve kinda turned into that person.  Or maybe I was always that person.  But lumps and bumps worry me. So I went. My DR was pretty sure the minuscule lumps I felt were just fatty tissue but an ultrasound was scheduled. And even the ultrasound tech (who isn’t supposed to tell you their thoughts until a radiologist reads the scans. But she took pity on me) also said she thought it was nothing. So that was two nothings.  So I moved on because oldest was graduating high school that weekend and the last thing I wanted to do was worry about a nothing.  Until it was maybe a something.  The ultrasound was inconclusive and recommended an MRI and/or biopsy.  So because I’m the girl who got breast cancer twice in the same damned breast, my mind went 100 steps ahead and of course MRI wasn’t until after graduation weekend. I pushed through my fears, planned fo