Ack!

Lots o' stuff to do this week and next. I looked at the calendar this morning and fourteen gazillion expletives milled around in my brain, jockeying for right of way in my mouth. I have ten, TEN, days to be done with just about everything I have to accomplish before Christmas, which if you know me, means that for every task I have to complete, there are 3 excuses to procrastinate. (I was valedictorian of my graduating class at Better Late Than Never University.)

So, while talking to my sister, I decided to jot down a list of things to procrastinate accomplish in the next TEN DAYS.

1) Finish Christmas shopping.
2) Wrap gifts.
3) Get cards finished and mailed.
4) Shop for remaining items for the Labor Party*
5) Write a gazillion blog posts.
6) Whine, because I have a sinus infection. Like I need that.
7) Pack for Operation Kick Cancer's Ass

You know, the usual.

Now that it's all written, maybe I should make an effort to work on some of it? Stay tuned, I'll let you know how it goes. Or doesn't go.

*Sometime between now and OKCA, my newest nephew should be making his debut, an event to which I am to take part. The easy part. The part that makes me very thankful for my impending menopause, thankyouverymuch. 

I.love.it.

I was looking at my blog stats and noticed that one of the keywords used in a search that found this blog is "an odd woman".

Indeed.

It's Monday again, and you know what that means, kids!

Yes, it's another Freewriting Monday here at The Penguin Papers, another chance for me to blather on like I know how to write. 

I've been laying low this past week. Remember the "I haven't cried yet" post? It happened and while it wasn't glorious or cathartic, it did get a fair amount of pent-up emotion released. I liken it to the aftermath of a decent dose of Milk of Magnesia - sudden and nasty. Not to mention that I am not a pretty crier and with my face already puffy from what I now know is a sinus infection, you can imagine how attractive I was that day. So, I took some time off thinking that I might get hit with it again, but so far I have retained the tenuous control over my emotions that I had before the purge. We'll call it a temporary emotion dump. 

By today's count we are at T-21 days until Operation Kick Cancer's Ass. There's lots to do before the event, namely prepare for Christmas and wait for a certain young man in my life to make his arrival. Oh, and I might try to sneak another freak-out or two in there, as well. Who knows. 

 

Okay, so....

I haven't cried yet. Am I supposed to? Will it make me feel better? What's the standard protocol here? I know the things to say to family members and patients when they have cancer, but what's the etiquette for the patient herself?

I don't want this to be the All Cancer, All The Time blog, but damn it, I'm out of my element here.

If someone has a clue, I have a whole bunch of quarters.

Because I love a good silly joke.....

Q: What did the cow say to Baby Jesus upon arriving at the manger?

Wait for it........





"Moo"

I can't help myself - inside my head lurks the brain of a 12-year-old boy. :D

Got any good silly jokes to share? Leave 'em in comments!

It's Monday, December 6

And I really have no clue what today is about. But, it is freewriting Monday, after all, so no topic required.

The last half-week has been surreal. Mentally I'm thinking a little more clearly, but as the day wears on I tire faster. Maybe I'm just trying to find a good excuse for the occasional nap. ;) I actually sleep better during the day the day than I have been at night. There's something about the light going out that makes the gerbils on the treadmill in my brain wake up. This isn't anything new; I had problems with insomnia before the Big C, now I just have realistic worries to cycle viciously in my head.

The 2010 antler pictures have been shot and once they're edited will go up. I started this tradition last Christmas season, but with finals and other nonsense competing for my time, they didn't get posted. Anyone care to bet on whether or not I do it this year?

Now it's time to toddle off and hit the melatonin. 'Night, all.

Happy Birthday

Waking up in the morning is a little different these days. As I said to Jim on Wednesday evening as we were preparing for bed, "I woke up this morning okay, now I'm going to bed as with cancer." Caregiver becomes patient.

Life has changed. I have read others talk about "life before/after" as being two different concepts and wondered if it really felt that demarcated, but the answer for me, at least for now, is yes. The life in which I took my health (and sanity?) for granted is done, now it's time to sit up and pay attention. Half-time is over, it's time to play serious ball.

This morning I received a lovely slap upside the head that was sorely needed. Miss Peyton turns 7 today. Four years ago Peyton was diagnosed with Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia and is now a survivor. To my eye there are no physical reminders of what Peyton went through, but as I looked at her birthday pictures today I could hear her tell me to get over myself, to get on with it and (if Anissa will forgive the Peyton voice in my brain), to kick the cancer's ass, like she did.

Oh, don't get me wrong - I will still whine and bitch occasionally. And I'm still not at the point where I have really accepted what's happening, but I'm getting there.

Thanks, Peyton. <3

This post brought to you by the letter C

I'd like to be able to quote Garrison Keillor, "It's been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, my hometown", but the truth is I can't. In fact, it may be a long while before I can use that quote and get away with it, or at the very least feel like I'm not lying as it comes out my mouth.

This past Wednesday my husband and I, while sitting in a small exam room at my urologist's office, were told that the extra passenger on my right kidney is most assuredly cancer. Within an 80% probability. I had some presentiment of this appointment not being routine before we got there, which is why I had my husband with me but I thought it would be okay. Even when my lovely freckled, redheaded urologist walked in the room with a noticeable lack of his native buoyancy I still told myself that whatever it was, even if it was cancer, it would be alright.

And then he said it.

I sat there, holding Jim's hand and nodding at appropriate places in the conversation while my brain was trying to catch up, "excuse me, what did you just say?" Even in my most hypochondriacal moments never thought that word would pertain to me.

But, it does. And now I have to move through it and prepare myself for battle, cultivate my "warrior spirit", as my husband says. I doubt my readiness for that 3 days out, but each day brings up something new in my attitude while my heart works to catch up. The numbness is beginning to wear off and certain questions borne out of apprehension spring up like blades of grass in melting spring snow. The doubt and uncertainty is really the villain, not the cancer and my biggest battle will be on that particular hill.

Too bad I can't take this guy into battle with me: