Cleaning For a Reason

Sick and tired.

I got a good squeeze today. Being up close and personal with a mammogram machine reminded me of the many women who are sick and tired of being sick and tired, while working hard to get well again. Hanging on the wall of the dressing room was a flyer that made me smile:

"Cleaning For a Reason is a service for women with cancer who are currently undergoing chemotherapy. They can have a free housecleaning once per month for four months with a doctor's note to verify treatment."

Maybe someone who reads my blog is sick and tired and needs this service, or maybe someone who reads your blog knows someone who does. Link to this post and spread the word!

Click here for more info:

www.cleaningforareason.org

Divine Designs

Heidi and Chelsea play Cat's Cradle 2011 Campout

Life is like Cat's Cradle—predictable and fun for a while, then suddenly everything gets tangled, impossible to figure out. Onlookers stand around saying, "Grab that string," "Take hold of it with your thumb," "Pull it the other way," but it looks like total confusion from your angle. Miraculously, it all shakes out and you can start over fresh.

We started our summer with a familiar design.

Two months later it's way more complicated, but more interesting, too. Have you ever noticed that something can start out as a problem and end up as a solution? We've had it happen several times.

1. A terrifying asthma attack (in a foxhole) put Dee in the hospital for a week, but kept him out of Viet Nam.
   
2. We put money down on a perfect house, then felt compelled to cancel the deal and buy an imperfect house. Three of our daughters met their husbands because we lived there.
3. A miserable assignment a few years ago taught me computer skills I would never have learned otherwise.
4. Job disappointments kept us available and we were able to move to England for a life-changing year.
5. The diagnosis of cancer has twisted our life in an unexpected new direction. Huge new financial concerns convinced us to move (after ten years of saying we'd never move) and new opportunities have opened up.
   

God sets solutions in motion before we are even aware of our problems. Even though I know this, when a new challenge comes along, I get very specific in my requests, certain I know best. "Please bless me this way," I pray. When the answer comes from a different direction, I might not recognize it, and sometimes it looks like a whole new problem.

Looking backwards I know the Lord designs solutions better than I do, so why does my faith falter when I look ahead?

Miraculously I see a pattern emerging, and it looks exciting!


Has life got designs on you?
Share!

Have you had a problem that became a solution?
Share!

Getting Acquainted with Sadness

Lots of folks are looking at what the tornado left behind. I identify.
Our life got blown to smithereens this month, and I have to say

"I liked it better when . . . "

1. I didn't feel scared every time I remembered.
2. I thought cancer happened to other people.
3. Life and death decisions were hypothetical.
4. I was ranting about the cost of other people's chemo.
5. My old problems were my main problems.
6. Our future seemed predictable.
7. I could relax my shoulders.
8. At 2:15 am I could concentrate on blogging.
   
9. Feeling hopeful didn't take such an effort.
10. I didn't know how I'd feel.
    

The doctor told us that after a cancer diagnosis, people go through stages of grief. By the time he mentioned it, I figured we'd been through the stages already that week and we'd go forward with a stiff-upper-lip and faith in the future, back to life as we'd known it. What I've discovered is life as we know it is gone. "We're not in Kansas anymore, Toto."

With any big change-of-direction event, life becomes a new locale. Thinking, planning, dealing with the day-to-day has new implications. Dee gets phone-calls from his buddies—the ones he coached T-Ball with, the guys he chaperoned scout camp with. Now, instead of talking about fishing in Alaska and collecting cars, guns, or golf trophies, the big conversation is about the incontinence he can expect after surgery, hot-flashes and mood swings that come with his $900 hormone shots, or the ever-present fatigue and constant diarrhea radiation has to offer. Discussions of whether he can work during treatments, if it's worth it to risk a stroke on the operating table, how to handle the horrendous costs before Medicare kicks in, and if it's wise to let the tumors grow wild for a few more months. Questions. We're full of questions without answers and it's disconcerting.

New, unexpected symptoms and side-effects add to the life-long surprise party these guys got invited to. Dee's overwhelmed, of course, and I feel overwhelmed, too. I'm in a crazy time: the final edit of my manuscript is due, my church newsletter deadline is tomorrow, and two or three projects are stacked on my desk. Real life doesn't slow down to let its travelers catch their breath. I find I have to remind myself to eat, a problem I've never had before!

Dee and I have lots of moments of hope and excitement and even exhilaration—we're re-inventing ourselves for our next chapter—it's a technique we've used several times and it's always rejuvenated our lives before. (More in coming weeks.) But there are all the in-between moments when I feel sad, and scared, sleepless in SLC (you think Tom Hanks wants to chat?) breathless, exhausted and depressed: my stomach churns, my head spins and my heart feels a little broken. And I long for how it was before.


Just for a while it would be nice to forget June, and skip back to May for a last taste of carefree.

I liked it better then.
I just didn't know it.

❧❧❧❧❧

Did you ever write about a difficult time?
How did you keep a balance between
Depression and Optimism
in describing your reality?

Make sure your journal isn't all perfect children and marital bliss. (Your kids will wonder what's wrong with their life, if they ever crack open such a boring read.) Tell about your down-days, too. That's when readers identify most, and your blog or journal becomes a teaching tool. Introduce readers to coping skills you've used when getting acquainted with sadness. It might remind you of some you already have, for the especially tough times. The times you look back with nostalgia and say: I liked it better then . . .

Roller Coaster Ride

Ten days ago I wrote on my to-do page: "List all your worries and then list ways to let them go." As it turned out, I got on a crazy new ride and threw them to the wind. Now, I can't even remember what they were! Funny how one new experience can overwhelm your whole life and make you forget your past bumps and grinds completely.

It seems like everyone who's anyone has already been on this ride, or they're climbing on for their turn. It didn't look that crazy right at first, but the big drop was a shock, and my stomach almost popped out of my mouth; pure speed overwhelmed me and I just held on.

I've been up, down, dizzy, disoriented, gulping air, trying to get right-side round again. We've been rolling for a full week now and I can tell I'm still pretty discombobulated. I keep leaving my keys in the front door; I took the towels out of the dryer and loaded them back in the washer and turned it on; I found myself drying the kitchen counter with a baby's bib. I start something and get distracted and realize it's noon and I have my levis on but I forgot to put on a shirt. One eye lash is curled, the other straight. And my blog from yesterday is still sitting half-written, but I can't remember the point I was making, so I'll rescue it from Drafts someday soon, and have an out-of-date observation about something that will seem irrelevant.

Where's the Dramamine?

There. I feel almost back to normal. As soon as I stop feeling dizzy, I'm going to list all my brand-new worries and figure out a way to let them go, too. But I'm too exhausted to stay on the roller coaster much longer. All that rolling is making me a little sick.

When will we start coasting?


(I'll be back to normal posting soon, I hope!)

Writing Workshop For Kids

"If there's a book you want to read but it hasn't been written yet,
then you must write it."
—Toni Morrison

This summer I'm hosting Oma's Write Stuff Workshops for interested grandkids. I was sure I'd find a book on Amazon or an online curriculum that would make it easy, and there were a few to choose from:

• Making Books That Fly, Fold, Wrap, Hide, Pop Up, Twist and Turn
  
• "Invent your own country, invent wild new machines, and use them!" (Sign ups for Writing Workshops in the Park for Kids, Sydney Australia)
  
• Mentor Texts: Teaching Writing Through Literature K-6

Everything I found was a bit too fancy, complicated or heavy, so I decided to write my own. Stop by tomorrow and observe our first workshop!


P.S. I can't tell you how much your comments and emails have meant to Dee and me the past few days. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Friends from high school (even elementary school!) former neighbors, long-lost cousins and far-flung folks from the blogosphere—you are all appreciated. Your support has buoyed us up.

We met with the doctor again on Friday, and learned more about cancer than we ever wanted to know. Dee's probably had this for a couple of years already, but since it's slow-growing, he can wait a few months until Medicare kicks in before we decide which of many treatments would work best for him. In the meantime he had a $900 shot of hormones to slow things down. It was a roller coaster week, but we feel like we're back on the ground, ready to start a new chapter in our life. I'll keep you posted!

♥♥♥

Bad Words

"Wash your mouth out with soap!"

When I was a little girl there were some bad words my mother never allowed: Shut up and butt. They still sound inappropriate to me. Now we have a-words, b-words, f-words, and d-words. Monday I wanted to stuff a bar of Dial into the doctor's mouth: he said the c-word.

Cancer. It's a word I haven't allowed in our home, but I guess I'll have to get used to it. Dee got the word, and for the first few hours we took it in stride. Prostate cancer. "It's the kind of cancer you want," they say. "It's a cancer men die with, not of," we read. "Every man gets it if he's lucky enough to live that long." Luck—that's it. Dee has dealt with asthma, gout, diabetes, heart failure, and zillions of complications. What's a little cancer, we thought. CANCER.

CANCER!!! NO! We don't want CANCER!

Panic set in. I pictured myself a widow and Dee pictured emptying out his storage garage. Both pictures were horrifying. I remembered everyone I know who has died of cancer. People die of cancer, I thought to myself, while Dee was thinking the same thing. Without too much effort we conjured up the worst case scenarios. Not good. Steady, Dear . . . calm down . . . it will be OK. Deep breath—when we were in a state of serenity we called our seven kids.

That was the hardest part. They are so awesome, so supportive, so loving. Tears of gratitude slid down our cheeks after each call. Full of thanksgiving for such a great family, we pulled out our faith, recharged our hope and went to bed. It was a fitful night. Dee went down to the treadmill at 4:30 am to walk off his anxiety. Ten minutes later he woke me up, white as a sheet. "I can't catch my breath!" he wheezed. His skin was clammy with cold sweat and he was unsteady on his feet. The morning of his heart attack flashed before my eyes and we left immediately for the emergency room.

Doctors take heart patients seriously and Dee was hooked up with tubes, oxygen and electrodes before we could say "nitroglycerin." He spent the whole day having his heart examined. Another round of emotional phone calls to the kids, plus our sleepless night, produced pounding headaches. Finally the cardiologist arrived with the news: it was heart failure all right, but the kind brought on by panic and stress, not by plugged up stents. We could go home.

Dee told Dr. Muhlstein about the success of his company open house during their chat. The Doc said, "Look at all you still have to do! You'll have plenty of time." Our daughters brought dinner, and we were reminded again of who we want to live for and why. These friends and loved ones have already circled their wagons around us in a protective shield. We took our worry down a notch: Cancer. Cancer. We remembered everyone we know who lives with cancer. Many, many friends and family face it with dignity and grace. As Gordon B. Hinckley used to say, "Getting old is not for sissies." Maybe the c-word is courage.

Even so: I'm shouting this from the top of my blog:

"Cancer??
Shut up!!
We're gonna kick its butt!

(Somehow these bad words seem totally appropriate!)

Share your experience!

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3. Strengthening Our Family Thousands of Miles From Home
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5. Strengthen Your Marriage: Our Evergreen Christmas