BATMOM

Hovercraft

Oliver and I made it to yoga this morning and that was basically all I managed to do today. My mind is like a hovercraft spitting water 6 inches above the surface and unable to make contact with ground control. I am not myself today and I feel fragile. I look forward to day 4 (tomorrow) when I always seem to feel better. I do not know how I am going to make it through 9 more rounds. But I will find a way.

One Quarter Done

Day 2 of chemo. 3 cycles down. 9 to go. Luckily Oliver arrived to provide distraction and spread the light. 

I am doing well enough on the outside. The chemo side effects are not as extreme as they were last year, and I am managing. It is hard for me and I think for those around me to remember what my body is going through. I get tired. I get sick to my stomach. My brain is trying to hold too many extremes in its small mass.

I try to hide its toll on me as much as possible and pretend that life is fairly normal. It works pretty well. I think of the chemo as a crummy part-time job. If I don't think of myself as sick, I seem to be doing be more. We're all tired of letting the cancer and its treatment dictate all terms. 

I am tired and will go to sleep. We had a great, low key Christmas. More later...

Hard, Good Day

Two weeks ago I learned that I can't get any writing done in the Batcave. No big surprise then that I got no writing done in the Batcave. It did not help (definitely not) that I was in a room of the Batcave with a tiny tv flung somewhere to the left and overhead of me... the screen of which I could not see... which had women fighting on Jerry Springer's show. and more women fighting. and some yelling. and then a rap off. That was a bad display of Americana. Nobody was nice. The mother and son sharing my room and watching the show were nice. But they seemed to really like watching not nice people. It boggles the mind.

Mom and I got a flat tire on the way to chemo.  I couldn't find my iPhone with my pictures of the family. And Tom took the kids to the zoo with Brad and his baby Beatrice, so he couldn't give me his. Instead, I had grabbed my boot charm from Mia (thank you!) and my lioness from Amelie (George's piano teacher searched most of Manhattan for a lioness and finally found the perfect one in FAO schwarz). Another lioness... this time a mysterious soft lioness...  showed up from New York on the day before Christmas. There was no note or return address. Anyone? Anyone? I tried to take her too, but Adeline keeps "borrowing" her and I couldn't find her as I ran out of the house.

I made it through the poke and the drugs. I made it through the time when I was without company. Mom was at yoga and then had to deal with AAA and USAA. AAA refused to come to change a tire without my physical presence at the car, which was impossible because I was in my chemo lab (45 steps away), so Tom had some heated words with them and turned to USAA. 

Lucia, our nanny for 5 years, came today to see the kids and us. Adeline has been asking for her and the boys always love to see her. Her mother has been going through cancer and the same surgeries and pain. It's the first time we've seen her in 6 months, and we've missed her.

I'm feeling okay. We upped the dosage to the maximum for my body weight. I have a headache and am nauseated. I'm tired. The kids knew. We'd told them that I had the strong medicine today. Cole claimed a snuggle right away. George wanted "to talk" because he hadn't seen me all day. Adeline wanted me to stay with her until we fell asleep. I snuggled as much as I could, talked as much as I could and held Adeline until she fell asleep. 

Now I get to fall asleep next to Tom. All in all it was still a good day. 

No good, very bad day

There is a book that Cole quoted the other day when Tom carried him kicking and screaming from a play date. "Today is a no good, very bad day!" He screamed. Well, today was more or less (mostly more) of my own no good very bad day. I can say this now with some amusement because it had nothing to do with health and was a typical holiday season system overload.

It began when there was no syrup for pancakes. Babu was cooking. Tom was writing. And the kids were complaining. I want so desperately for the holidays to be perfect that pancakes without syrup seemed like a travesty. I ran out the door with a coat over my pajamas.

Adeline handed me some credit cards shortly before I ran out the door. "Thanks," I remember saying and not looking at them. She often goes through my wallet and hands me my cards (if I'm lucky). 

No one was eating pancakes when I returned. I helped Cole to make a snowflake with scissors. I failed. He tried not to cry. It looked like a lint filter attacked by a shark. Nevermind. 

I ran around trying to complete all of the Christmas tasks I had been too tired to do last week. Lines were long. Sales people were grumpy (hey! You have business. Smile!). I bought Christmas dinner supplies. Wine. Champagne (Mom's in town!). I bought clams instead of oysters (I swear I asked for oysters... and I do remember thinking, "wow. they're cheap. it must be oyster season"). I finally found a pink bike helmet for Adeline but only in size 5. I hope she has a big head. 

Mom stayed with the kids. Tom was working. I arrived to get the kids ready for a annual Clyde/Beck party with only minutes to spare (my specialty really). Mom is canceling her credit card because someone bought chocolates at Lulu Rae. Interesting, I bought chocolates at Lulu Rae. I look at the card Adeline handed me from my coat pocket. Oops. Thanks, Mom. And as we're getting in the car, Adeline pops herself in the face with a balloon. Hard. We think it's her eye. Whew. It's not.

We race in our Supermobile the few short blocks that we would love to walk if we just didn't have 3 kids under 5 and arrive at the Beck's... late. We happily hop out of the car and Cole promptly pokes himself in the eye with a native American pointy plant. What are the odds? We think he's now blind in his left eye. 

He wasn't. It was a great party. All of the cousins had a blast. (Not such a bad day).

Tom and I prepare to head off to our Danish Christmas party (love that herring and aquavit, Jacob). Adeline comes down with a fever and is only consoled with hugs and a popsicle (suckers). Seriously, she's sick. We cancel our plans which is probably a good thing because Mom is really tired of babysitting at this point and tells us so. 

I am also tired and tell Tom all of the things he has done to make this such a bad day, but when pressed I can't really think of any. I cry anyway and complain about the drama everyone else creates. Then I felt better, wrapped some presents, and look forward to tomorrow.

Cookies

Mom flew back in tonight. She is shaken, but still smiling. We heard some carolers across the street shortly after her arrival. Standing shivering on the porch we'd hoped they'd come to us. We could us some carols. Alas, we have too many stairs.

Despite the obvious reasons for which we could feel blue, it's a pretty merry home. The boys run around singing some French jazz, kids number. Adeline sings Frosty and Rudolph and informs us with big eyes that "Christmas is coming!" Christmas is definitely coming. We went to our cousin Marie's annual Christmas dinner and got in the holiday mood with songs and holiday glam. The presents are beginning to pile up under the tree. Christmas cards cover the buffet.

 

The last few days have been about cookies. Boys and boys and more boys came to make cookies. We had one in a transformer costume, a Jarjarbig's masks, with nothing at all, a cool cat, cool kids... Adeline, the only little girl, made hot pink lips... very Christmasy. 

Tom had let me sleep in, so I was late getting started. I opened the back door with my grocery bags as the guests arrived. I must have said 11:00 instead of 11:30. Oops. I shoved puzzle pieces aside with my foot to make a path for the guests. Cole ripped open the toilet paper I'd asked him to bring in and tossed it across the family room floor. It's a good thing Lucie's a friend, and the boys don't care!

I met friends from my first mother's group for grown up cookie making last night. The cookies were the same but there was more wine involved. We only had one bottle of champagne on the costume, boy-cookie day shift. I will not tell how many bottles were emptied last night. (Not because it is particularly outrageous, but because I simply don't know).

Today was all about eating those cookies. Neighbors lost out this year. My grown-up cookies blew up like the Michlelin Tire Man. My frosty was more akin to a Manta Ray (seriously) than any snowman... I am very sure it had nothing to do with the wine.

 
 

Little Rockers

Adeline woke me up at 5:30 am to ask me why she doesn't have boobies. I do not exactly remember what I said but it was something that included, "The sun is not up yet. I can't think."

George decided to be a "rocker" at around 6:30 am. He dressed himself in all black with a black leather jacket and rolled around on our floor screaming. "Rockers are loud," he declared, at which point Cole decided he also needed to be one. He scoured his closet and George's for anything black. He ended up with an inside-out ski vest, saggy jeans and space boots. Adeline also wanted to join in but wanted to be a pink rocker. George kindly advised her on what a rocker might wear (which is brave, considering she is a girl that always knows what she wants to wear).

I had a much better day. I took the boys to school and then went to yoga, braved the shopping crowd and bought groceries. Day 3 is brutal and now it's over and I only feel better from here. 2 chemos down, 10 to go. 

Now I'm sitting in the living room with my honey, trying to keep the computer cable plugged into the wall and generally enjoying the peace and quiet. All the little rockers have gone to sleep.

Trying

It was a rough day. The chemotherapy hit me, and I was tired. I mostly wandered around the house trying to complete some task, any task. 

I tried to write. I tried to finish Christmas present purchases. I tried to do laundry. At least I tried.

Back in Charleston, Mom spent all day trying to salvage things from her home. She was reminded of a pillow given to her by my Aunt Sandy: "A little champagne can fix anything." I think she'll walk around with a bottle for quite some time. She seems to be doing pretty well, though still in shock.  We hope she'll be back for Christmas.

I have to remind myself that the 3rd day after chemo is usually the worst and that I will feel stronger every day.

Okay

Mom is on her way home to South Carolina. Her brother my Uncle David is driving down from Charlotte with her tonight (where she flew in). Our next door neighbor rescued one of my grandmother's paintings. I hope maybe they were able to get more, but we can't count on it.

I am feeling okay today. Tom and I went to our support groups where my group basically told me to stop fighting so much and let the body do the healing it can naturally do. I know what they mean, I think, but they've been at this longer than I have and I still need to fight. Don't I?

Back to the cancer center for the neulasta shot. It only took an hour and then I picked up the boys from school.

I'm tired and fried and am going to bed.

Bad

My mother just called to tell me her home in Charleston (my childhood home) is currently burning down. It looks like nothing can be salvaged. My grandmother's paintings and family photos and silver is gone forever. My sweet sixteen dress. My mother's childhood beds. My great grandmother's teacups. Health care reform is dead (my children do not thank you Lieberman and nor do I with my pre-existing condition, cancer & $75,000 cap). And now I have a chemotherapy headache. Poor mom. Poor me. Poor kids. Bad night.

Normal

It was time for the Batcave today. Mom and I dropped the boys off at school and then headed to chemo. I had no issues with the port access again... This is getting to be a good habit. Tom dropped Adeline off at Sheri and George's house for some fun.

I didn't write yesterday because Tom and I went to The Rumpus in San Francisco to hear some readings. It was nice to get out and amusing, for me, that I went to hear literature at The Makeout Room (an old and favorite Mission bar from my 20s). 

And this weekend we had the Clyde family bunch as well as George's second piano recital. He did not at all seem worried or scared, and when he made a mistake he simply moved to the next note with no embarrassment. First he played "Lightly Row" with the melody in both hands and then his own composition "Frustrated." He may not have appeared nervous, even to me, but did run and throw himself into my arms for security as soon as he bowed. I don't think he heard the next 3 pieces while he processed.

The annual Clyde brunch in San Francisco is really beginning to be fun for the kids. They remember their cousins and the room and the food (as the Tennant cousins said, "a buffet... you can eat as much as you want!"). The kids ditched the grown-ups and played outside. These are important memories for them. It's nice for us as well. The parents can more or less carry on a conversation now and even partake of that never ending buffet!

 

 
 

I am feeling nausea and fatigue tonight, but not much more. I practiced piano with George while Tom loaded a huge, mysterious Tennant family Christmas gift with Jean-Paul into our garage for safekeeping and Mom worked with Cole on his letters. He proudly drew a cool cat and labeled it, with Mom's help. 

It is a gift to have her here and helping us. Every night she works with the kids on letters and reading and writing. It seems right to have family generations together. And in this hard time, they are thriving. I feel that we have a village here in Berkeley: Cole cuts his finger, we call our sister who lives down the street and she sees him right away. Today Adeline, (sometimes George, sometimes Cole) went to a place of freedom at Grandma and Poppy's. Mom cooks and babysits and allows Tom and me to write. Friends bring meals and joy.

Tom and I are trying to live as normally as we can, and this is possible with help from our village. Thank you!