Sending out some big Thank-you’s

I was thinking about some people who have done cool things for me, some because they were actually thinking of me and some who have affected my life even though they are completely unaware of me.

1. Thank you to whoever first discovered that you can bake uncooked lasagna noodles in a lasagna with a little extra water. I don’t think I’d ever make lasagna if I had to cook the noodles first.

2. I was just thinking of this for some reason–a million years ago in college when I worked at the Planetarium gift shop on Saturday morning this lady went off on me because she thought I hadn’t given back her credit card. I’m kind of forgetful so I checked all the obvious places and when I didn’t find it and told her I didn’t have it, she absolutely made a scene, threatened me, insulted me–it was the only thing anyone in the shop could pay attention to. Then she looked in her wallet, discovered that I HAD in fact returned her card to her and she walked off to go see her show. My thank you is to the guy working with me (I don’t remember his name or what his job was) who chased her down and made her apologize to me before he would let her go into the show. I was too embarrassed for her at the time, but thinking of it now, it makes me cry a little bit that someone stood up for me like that. Thank you, guy who did that!

3. Thank you to Google for helping me find the cheapest place to buy cheap things from China.

4. Thank you to Cara Ellison for including me in your will, and for researching and writing about Enron, and writing about other things that I find so interesting.

5. Thank you to lego.com for keeping my son so enthralled with your website that is always changing and updating.

6. Thank you to the people who came up with Leap Frog and the Zula Patrol for teaching my kids so many things that I couldn’t.

7. Thank you Michaels for marking that glitter pack I bought down to .01 so that I didn’t get AS upset when Hannah opened and poured it out all over the couch and floor.

8. Thank you to the photo center at Wal-mart for giving me all those film canisters while the rude people at Rite Aid insisted that they HAD to throw them away every day.

9. Thank you to Julie for making me that little scrap book out of paper bags that I am now going to rip off and make for all my other friends.

10. Thank you to the people who hold open doors for me when I’ve got a stroller and 3 kids in tow, it really means a lot.

11. Thank you to my friend Crysta who made me the little apron I am currently wearing as an accessory AND a useful place to put little things while I clean my house.

That should be good for now. There are a lot more people I should thank I’m sure, but those are some of the ones that had been on my mind…

 

Minimal side-effects

I should be counting my blessings.  I have four of the cutest, sweetest children in the universe, a roof over my head, food to eat–and for the time being I’m cancer free.  My post-therapy scan was clean, huge blessing.  Even more of a blessing was that I had almost no side-effects from my RAI.  Nothin.  I’m not losing my hair, my salivary glands aren’t swollen and sore, I still have my sense of taste, I didn’t gain a bunch of weight… It was pretty much a walk in the park.  I did have some mild nausea in the first few days, but a couple days of nausea is nothing to cry about.  The one thing I’ve noticed though is that I am super annoyed about things.  Things that I should be able to let go.  Things that shouldn’t bother me.  I am experiencing a lot of anger that I don’t know how to deal with.  I find myself incapable of voicing my anger and annoyance with people.  Usually that works, I can just cool off, forget it.  I really hope this is a strange side-effect of RAI.  Maybe a consequence of fluctuating hormones.  Maybe my feelings are legitimate.  Its hard to tell.  I hope I’m not losing my mind.  I had always hoped that when I’m a mature older woman I’ll be able to say the things that I think about saying.  I just can’t give myself permission to say what I think.  Not even with this new perspective I have.  Not even as an older and wiser cancer survivor.  Hmmph.

 

Food for thought

In my book this is a must read post over at Cara Ellison.

“Imagine being from a country where 2,230,000 people are buried in the ground upon which you walk every day, a place such as Belarus. Rotting layers of soldiers, twelve deep, for miles and miles, nourishing the roots of your grandmother’s apple tree.”

One of the most interesting classes I took in college was the “anthropology of war”. We live in a blessed nation, we exist in the world parallel to where “starvation, massacre, rape, 9-year old boys with Kalashnikovs is just an average day in the hood.”

Its a sobering thought. I am the type who wants to bury my head in the sand. I don’t want to hear it, I don’t want to see it. For years BJay has been preaching about how oil is going to get too expensive to drill and refine and our gas economy is going to come to a grinding halt. He gets an odd thrill out of the news that automakers can’t sell SUVs and Chevy trucks are being dethroned as the best selling automobile in this country. BJay has been saying for years that people are going to have to start growing their own food. You know what that says to me? My kids are going to have to go without food. I was pregnant with Asher when 9/11 happened. I was home by myself and I got down on the floor and cried my eyes out. I was just so devastated for my baby, this was the world he was coming in to. Well the shock wore off and I’ve had 3 more children and this is the world they are living in now. The sobering part is that this has been the norm pretty much since the beginning. There will always be something that threatens to destroy our peace. Wars, plagues, civil unrest, food shortages… that’s just another day as a human on this planet. We just keep driving on, against the horrifying tide because somehow in the middle of it all… life is still beautiful. Especially here.

 

memory lane

I’ve been commuting between my house and the hospital where I’m having my treatments every day this week.  During the hour + drive I listen to NPR because, frankly, I wouldn’t begin to know what music channel to listen to.  The other morning a story came on that was an endearing trip down memory lane.   Like a lot of GI’s kids I had the great privilege of living in Germany as a child.  We lived in a German neighborhood for the first year or two and then on Rhein Main AFB for the rest of the time.  When we lived off base we were bussed in to school.  I attended Halverson elementary school.  Our school was named for the famous “Candy Bomber” known to post WWII East German children as “Uncle Wiggle Wings”.  This story always makes me cry.  After the war Germany was sliced up like a pie.  The Allies (US, France, Great Britain, and the Soviet Union) took control of portions of Germany.  The Soviet Union’s plan to rebuild Germany differed so much from the other allies plans that they ordered everyone out and stopped supplies from getting in to East Germany.  The people in East Germany, having just been through a war had lived on sub-starvation rations for years already.  Tensions were high, any attempt to alleviate suffering could easily have led to WWIII.  A British Commander suggested an alternative, an airlift.  Allied forces would drop food, fuel and supplies from the air.  It was a beautiful moment in history in my opinion.  Lt. Gail S. Halverson was one pilot who was a part of the effort to get food to the East Germans.  The NPR story talked about how Halverson split two sticks of gum he had to share with some East German children.  He was so struck by their reaction that he decided to do something he named “operation little vittles”.  He told the children to look for his plane and he’d drop candy to them.  When they asked him how they’d know it was him, he said he’d wiggle his wings as a sign.  He bought up all the candy he could find and took up donations from his friends and coworkers from their rations and tied chocolate and gum to handkerchiefs so that he could drop candy from his plane.  These were children who didn’t have enough food to eat.  The idea of candy was magical for them.  The NPR story said that to this day, Col. Halverson is a celebrity in Berlin and 70 year olds will come up to him with the handkerchiefs they collected from his candy drops.  Then Lt. Halverson was breaking the rules to do this sweet act of compassion and charity.  He was nearly courtmartialed, but when other pilots heard about his operation, they began dropping candy as well.  I got to meet Col. Halverson when he came to Germany for our elementary school dedication.  I also attended church with his grandchildren so as an added bonus he also was there for my little brother’s first pinewood derby race in cub scouts.  I shyly asked if he would pose for a picture with my brother and his car.  He was such a sweet, down to earth guy.  He not only posed for the picture, but he hammed it up as well.  I have got to dig up those pictures somewhere.  It is men like Halverson that keep hope alive  in this world.  Things are looking bleak, there are so many things to worry about and get uptight about.  But I know that whatever is likely to descend on us there will be people who will hold up beacons of hope and compassion.  I know it because humanity is created by God, its in our nature to bridge the chasms of ugliness and brutality.

 

Internet people.

I read a few blogs, not a ton. Mostly ones from people I know. Usually I read to stay caught up on people’s lives that I know. There are a few, and very few that I read because I’m actually interested in someones opinion on things. When I venture out into the great unknown to see what bloggers are thinking I always find it suspicious when people fitting just the right stereotype post comments. Like when the polygamists in Texas were in the news. There were quite a few blog-posts on the subject and I was completely skeptical when all these “Muslims” and FLDS “Mormons” came out of the woodwork to defend the practice of plural marriage. Really? Where they really for real? Seemed awfully convenient to me. Then there was this highly conservative blog about how the price of premarital sex is that now 1/5 of the adult population have genital herpes. Wow. But then there was this comment by a woman married 20 some years who said she married her husband as a virgin but she’d never had an orgasm. That seems pretty far fetched to me. She was wondering if she would have had a more fulfilling sex life if she had had a few more partners before she tied the knot. I’m not saying that couldn’t happen, I’m just saying its a pretty convenient argument. And it sounds like that lame movie with Diane Keaton “Because I said so.” My favorite are the people who get offended about everything. You share an opinion on something and they get offended. Now I’ve met people like that so I know they exist. Usually they are soooo much more enlightened and intelligent than us normal folk. They are also whiny and annoying so not many people are willing to actually spend a lot of time with them. They are also extremely self-centered so there is no room in their universe for something as radical as a differing opinion. But they are willing to make idiots of themselves because they are so desperate for attention. Masters at manipulation, these people will do anything to engage you in an argument. Anything. It is best to ignore these people. You can’t fix them or counsel them or fill their need for attention. It makes me wonder what they did before the internet? Maybe they had therapists. Maybe having internet venues to whine on gives them a sense of purpose. Maybe it makes them feel better about themselves. Maybe they feel exacting and in control. Years ago these people were called trolls. I don’t know if that term is used anymore. I don’t think its a big deal for someone to anonymously troll for whatever psychological need they have to fill. One of the saddest things I’ve read though was a blog where someones dad was trolling her. That is all kinds of messed up. I am lucky enough to have been born to parents who are grown-ups. I don’t know if they were there when I was born or if they grew up along the way, but I know that they don’t need me to fill their psychological or emotional voids. I can actually have meaningful, enjoyable conversations with them. All the time. I never realized that was such a blessing. More proof that my parents are awesome.

 

Its nothing compared to chemo…

I’m a full week off of all thyroid medication in preparation for my radio active iodine treatments. I’m also fairly religiously following my low-iodine diet. There are very few things I can eat. No seafood, no dairy, no eggs, no prepared foods or resturant foods containing salt. That pretty much strikes everything but fresh fruits and veggies, meat and steamed rice. I can have bread if I make it but I’m pretty unmotivated. I was starting to feel a little sorry for myself at the two father’s day meals we attended at my parent’s and BJay’s parents today when the options for me were peas, ham and water. I am also feeling the effects of no thyroid hormone. I’m naturally a little foggy-headed at times, clumsy, and I can’t get my words out. Now that is all exaggerated and I’m pretty tired. So I was starting to feel sorry for myself until I read this post that my friend Jamie linked on her blog. She and her sisters are taking care of their mom while she’s going through chemo. It ripped my heart out of my chest and my heart isn’t even connected to their mom. Life is so amazing. All the sudden I don’t feel so tired. I don’t feel so hungry. I just feel grateful. I can handle this. Its nothing compared to chemo.

 

Upon further review…

I am still perplexed about Obama. I did not know that the national anthem video was so old. And I honestly did not get it from a hate email. I don’t get hate emails about Obama. I guess anyone who knows me might guess I’m safe from crossing over to the dark side and voting democrat. Even when the R candidate is utterly disappointing. I’m guessing that all the stink people made about Obama not putting his hand over his heart in Iowa last year was a good lesson for Obama. People do care about symbols and gestures, especially if you are “living your patriotism.” The reasons I have found for Obama’s little gaff (in his words)

1. “My grandfather taught me when I was 2. During the Pledge of Allegiance, you put your hand over your heart. During the national anthem, you sing.” (Snopes.com)

2.”There are two places where this rumor started,” Obama said. “All right? Number one, we were at an event in Iowa and the ‘Star Spangled Banner’ was being sung by a woman and the camera caught me, not, I didn’t have my hand over my heart while I was listening and singing along with her, not out of disrespect, just because I was listening to her song and thought, ‘Boy, I was getting into the song.’ Now, I acknowledge the mistake of not having put my hand over my heart during the singing of the ‘Star Spangled Banner,’ although anybody who’s watching — I’m gonna look at all of you at a ball game one time and see if you always get it right, ’cause sometimes, we all, I just want to point that out, so that’s point number one.” (abc news political punch)

I can admit when I’m wrong. If this was just a one-time blunder I take back my sinster comment. I mean, if his grandfather taught him to sing the national anthem instead of placing his hand over his heart that is fine. It was his grandfather afterall, and lessons we learn at 2 are deeply ingrained. (sarcasm) I also regret the wailing cat comment since the rendition was so moving for Obama. (earnest) You can see that he was mouthing the words there at the end. But why then, in response to whether the hand-over-heart missing gesture was a mistake or if he habitually declines to do so did his campaign say, “Sometimes he does, sometimes he doesn’t. In no way was he making any kind of statement, any suggestion to the contrary is ridiculous.” (same snopes article from above)? It is possible to sing while putting your hand over your heart. And if it was a one-time mistake they/he should just say so. Sometimes he does and sometimes he doesn’t is a stupid way for his campaign to answer the question. It makes him seem arrogant. And Obama’s catching himself almost accusing people at ballgames seems odd to me. I’m not voting for joe-baseball fan. To be the president you are held to a higher standard, and gestures do matter.

And now, just for fun, here is a video I found on youtube when I was looking for other videos of Obama putting his hand on his heart. This is a Bollywood film song. And its not an underhanded accusation of Obama’s “secret muslim” status. I studied India in college and so I have an affinity for Indian cinema. Enjoy!

Obama sings film song in Hindi

 

Honestly

I do like suvs. I’m easily influenced. I’ll never buy one though…

If I never had to worry about money I would probably like designer handbags. And expensive anti-aging creams.

I’m not really tolerant of other religions. Especially on the fringe weirdo ones. And being in a Muslim country is unnerving if you are a woman.

I don’t think I’m nice or quiet.

I think I might be done having kids…maybe

If you say, “Let me know if you need anything.” I won’t.

I’m not very humble. My husband tries to teach me stuff all the time and it gets on my nerves.

I may have learned more from the boring PBS shows my husband makes me watch than I did all 4 years of college.

If I have the time and money when my kids are grown, I think I’ll go to medical school.

I have started about 4 novels. Starting is easy.

I hate being on a school schedule… But I’m probably going to send both of my school age kids to school next year.

When people say my scar is looking so much better I really think they are just startled to see how bright and red it still is. (I usually wear shirts that cover it or necklaces but I’ve been wearing it proudly of late)

I have a hard time making friends.

I am freakishly intimidated by people on the phone. I hate making appointments. I will do everything in my power to avoid calling someone to ask for a favor. I put of phone calls until the last moment. And when its literally the last moment I won’t call because its rude. I have phone anxiety. I just learned this is fairly common.

I hate that I will never get an honest answer about whether or not I’m annoying.

Usually if I hate something to start I will end up loving it. Extreme emotions always gravitate to adoration. I guess I love things that make me feel.

I really don’t have a favorite child.

I eat when I’m upset.

I hate it when people say that I’m lucky that I get to stay home with my kids. Its not luck, its free agency and everyone has it…. (I just realized when I typed that that single moms might not have that choice…but honestly they aren’t who I’m talking about.)

I am a complete germaphobe.

I really am counting video games as exercise. (Wii fit, baby!)

I either dominate conversations or I don’t really participate.

I’m a long emailer.

I love giving gifts. For that reason I don’t think I’ll ever be very wealthy.

Its past midnight and I still have to do the dishes.

 

levels of humanity

I watched Nova last night with BJay. It was titled “A Walk to Beautiful”. The story was about Ethiopian women who sought treatment for obstetrical fistula which happens in childbirth. Because women in rural villages are malnourished and are doing hard physical labor from the age of 2, they don’t grow to be very tall, and their pelvic bones aren’t very wide. Plus they are married young and get pregnant very young. A combination of all these and the lack of obstetrical care leads to problems with delivery. The babies just can’t fit through the birth canal and are often stuck there way too long. The pressure of the baby’s head cuts off blood supply to parts of the woman’s bladder and/or rectum and so the tissue dies and falls off. So the women are left with the horrifying problem of leaking urine or feces or both. Most often the baby dies in childbirth and then the husband leaves. The women are sent home and shunned by their communities. I was absolutely heartbroken watching this. I usually turn away from stories like this that make me sad. But I was just so hooked from the start by the women’s plight. Ayehu, one of the women in the documentary had lived with her fistula for 6 years. When she came home to her parent’s house after her husband left her, her mother made her sleep outside. She had to build a makeshift hut on the back of the house where she expected to die. She said that even her brothers and sisters despised her for living. Then one day a woman named Fikre who had also lost a baby and lived with a Fistula for 10 years came and told Ayehu about the Addis Ababa Fistula Hospital where Fikre had been cured. They followed Ayehu on a 6 hour walk to the city and 17 hour bus ride to the hospital. Ayehu had surgery and was cured. Another woman Wubete had sustained so much damage to her bladder that it could not be repaired. She had to have a device that acted as a plug that she would remove when her bladder was full. She refused to go back to her village and was set up with employment at an orphanage where she cares for 4 children there.

This left me thinking about a lot of things. First of all, how grateful I am that I live in the United States. For so many reasons. But I think that being a woman here is a thousand times easier than being a woman almost anywhere else. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have to take a 17 hour bus ride with serious incontinence. But then I can’t imagine how the 17 hour bus ride is the end of a 6 year struggle with humiliation, alienation, and despair. I am in awe of people like Dr.Catherine Hamlin who dedicate their lives to serving the poor. It was in my master plan to join the peace corp out of college. I don’t know what our lives would have been like had we done that. But I like to think we would have learned to love the people we served. I can only hope that I would have been as understanding and compassionate as the Hamlins. When I watched the documentary I was so angry for the women. How could their husbands and families be so cruel? How can you treat someone who has suffered so much with contempt? Catherine and her husband went to Ethiopia in 1974 and never left. Her husband died and Catherine stayed on. She understands the culture, the actual journey of these women. From her interview with directors Mary Olive Smith and Amy Butcher:

“So she’s married to a farmer boy and looking forward to having a baby…

She starts labor and she expects to perhaps deliver by the evening or early morning. But the day goes by and she doesn’t have the baby. The village women encourage her. The second day goes by and even a third and fourth—up to 10 days I had a woman in labor. By that time the girl is exhausted and dehydrated, and she finally pushes out a dead baby. There’s her dead baby lying on the sheepskin rug on the mud bench beside her.

Q: And this is only the beginning of her pain.

Hamlin: Yes. She slips into a sleep of exhaustion because of her long labor. She’s worn out, she’s exhausted—and she wakes up to a worse horror…Her life is shattered, ruined. She can’t control any of her body waste.

Her husband comes back from the fields in the evening and says, “Why is the house smelling? Why can’t you get up and cook my meal for me?” He probably loves her; most of them do love their wives. He just can’t understand what has happened, and he can’t really accept this girl. Afterward, he may stay with her two or three days or two or three weeks even, but finally he thinks, “Well, she’s no use to me now as a wife.” And he will say to her—or, often, she will say to him, “Look, I’m no use to you. I’ll go back to my mother and father.”

Q: How should we feel about the husbands who abandon these girls?

Hamlin: We shouldn’t condemn them. These men are farmer boys; they might be only 18 or 20. They’ve never seen a medical condition like this, and they have no idea what’s the cause of it. They think that perhaps they have been cursed by God or the devil. They’ve got superstitious ideas that this has happened to them for some punishment. They don’t associate it with the days of labor.

They’re not cruel. Many of them love their wives. I’ve had one or two come back and say, “Please cure my wife, I want her. I want her to get better.” So we can’t condemn these young boys. I condemn the older men who have had two or three wives, an older man who is married to a young teenage girl. He should know better.

Q: So then she goes home to her parents.

Hamlin: She will go home to her own village—maybe it’s next door, maybe some distance away. They run out to welcome her, thinking she’s coming home with a baby, and they find her in this state. They love her, they put their arms around her, they hug her, they bring her into the house. But not for long, because of the other children in the house, the neighbors coming and going. They can’t manage with somebody who is leaking urine and possibly bowel contents.

So the mother will say to the father, “What can we do?” And he’ll say, “Well, we’ll build a little shed outside and put her [there].” They will build her a little hut somewhere in the village, somewhere on a farm plot they’ve got, and there she will stay till death. This is the fistula’s sufferer’s tragedy, her tragic life. Psychologically she’s terribly disturbed. She’s lost all her femininity, all her dignity, all her hope of having another child, all her hope of mixing with her society.”

And that is how it happens. When you think of it, this happens in the developed world all the time on many levels. Initially we have compassion and time to serve those who are suffering, but when the suffering becomes prolonged and there is no end in sight, we don’t have the capacity to go the distance. There are many levels of humanity.

 

Gloomy weather

Rain always makes me gloomy. We’re in a drought here, so the rain hasn’t been around as often. Its annoying to be affected by the weather. The laundry never did get off the ground yesterday so I vowed to be productive today. Sunday I went to a baby shower and got to spend a little time with this woman who taught me early morning seminary. The older I get, the more impressed I am with anyone who teaches early morning seminary. Its one thing to be awake and coherent at 6:30am, its another thing entirely to be prepared to teach grumpy, sleepy teenagers about scripture. I’ve always admired this former teacher of mine so it was nice to talk to her. The first thing she asked was, “Are you working on your art?” Which seemed a bizarre thing to ask. “Um…no.” I said. And then I pathetically said “Well, I guess I’m writing a bit.” And then she proceeded to give me a pep talk about how important it is to do the things that give you a sense of fulfillment and creative release. “Its important for your children to see you do that.” she said. And I’ve been thinking about that ever since. I find it hard to strike the right balance. With 4 young children it is really hard to do anything for myself. I blog, of course but I sometimes feel guilty for ignoring my kids for 30 minutes or so while I try and post something. Its hard to know exactly how much of yourself you are supposed to preserve. They won’t be babies forever, and when they are older and self-sufficient and think I’m the biggest idiot in the world am I going to miss the time I could have been sitting playing with them or holding them in my lap? Of course. I don’t know if you could ever do enough. Every night I lay down and think about all the things I could have done better. All the wrong messages I gave my daughter. All the lost patience with my little 2 year old. “Give yourself 30 minutes a day, 3 days a week to pick up the sketch pad and draw.” My teacher said. That isn’t a lot. But then is drawing or painting the talent I want to work on right now? Is it even worth it? It is spring time in North Carolina which means the wisteria is out and everything is in bloom. Its a beautiful time for landscapes. When I was a teenager I fancied myself an artist. There was something so romantic about throwing some pastels and charcoal in a bag and setting out on a landscape hunt. I was modeling my mentor and friend who is an artist. A few years ago this friend of mine and I compared notes on our lives. I have always envied her chosen profession. Art shows, trips to Europe to study, painting under the summer sky in a big straw hat. It seems like such an enjoyable way to spend your life. And of course, she said she envied the joy and fulfillment I have as a mother. “It would be like winning the lottery if you could do both.” She said. I’ve thought about that a lot.

So the rain and that conversation about what I’m not doing converged to make me very thoughtful. And gloomy. I wonder if there is more I should be doing artistically. I enjoy painting and drawing, but I don’t think I’m an artist. As a teenager I tip-toed around the world of artists wishing I could be like them. But there was a moment when I was looking at this exquisite drawing, masterfully executed and I just knew. I will never be able to produce that. I’m just not dedicated enough. And it made me want to cry huge angry tears and rip something up. Becoming a mom was very natural for me and I fell in love with my infant son immediately. It surprised me how much it was like falling in love romantically. You carry this little creature around for 9 months and there is a sense of loving and connection, but it is nothing like when the baby is born. At least for me. It was like going from fuzzy black and white to color HDTV. All the sudden the creature was a little baby, my baby and he was so sweet and helpless and warm. All I wanted to do was hold him. Every night I lay down and I’m in awe that I’ve been so blessed with these four amazing children. But in gaining these four amazing little people, did I lose something about myself? Maybe. I don’t spend an hour on my hair every day anymore. And I don’t get to goof around writing songs or painting. I definitely don’t get to go out whenever I want to. It would be nigh impossible for me to go work on landscapes. Is that okay? I honestly don’t know. I guess what I’m wondering is if all those things need to be part of my identity right now? Am I myself when I have all those interests scattered around in the periphery?