Waiting to heal…and a pity party

Hey girl,

I just had to write. Sorry I’ve been out of commission lately. Company, work, laundry (and all the dryers are broken, by the way)…anyway, you know the drill.

Yeah, so the colon cleanse wasn’t so moving. I thought I’d be pooping out stuff from the late 90s–I was all excited, a little nervous. I thought I’d see alien-like beings and remnants of tater tot casserole, small villages and parasites. Whatever. We should get the Internet pills, because my kit didn’t cut it. Made Steph a little more hostile every time I let one go, but other than that, and one Oh-my-God-where’s-the-bathroom moment at the Field Museum, I’m not impressed. No flat belly, nothing.

I just had to tell you how hard it is lately. Lately, you ask? Yeah. After ten months of cancer treatment–Steph diagnosed with triple negative infiltrating ductal carcinoma on September fourth of last year, finding out she’s BRCA2 positive, then learning how aggressive the cancer is and how it doesn’t want her to live past 40. Sometimes I let myself listen to the numbers and sometimes I know God’s grace is sufficent for us. And sometimes I think of songs I’d play at her funeral. I can’t help it. Knowing what I’ve learned about breast cancer and its complications from treatment, I’m just worn down. I know if I have faith I can get through it and all that, but every day…and the little moments…that’s what’s hard. I think of how I knew her when I was 18 and she was 21. I’ve had a lot of flashes of our life when all we had to think about was affording gas station sun glasses and would she like a jalapeno Slim Jim.

It’s stupid, I know. Faith, right? I don’t have enough. She told me the other day that we should stop praying for no return of the cancer, but recognize that He has already written it. We’re done and over with. I’ve got to believe that, but you got a vision of what I’ve been living with. In January–during chemo. I feel like I was such a kid then. After being a chemo caretaker for for four months (and anyone who knows Chicago October through January can testify it’s bitch already), I was a nurse and wife for her bilateral mastectomy: draining bulbs stuck to her armpits of lymphatic fluid and measuring it to give the recording to Hansen. Meeting with a radiologist so I could watch her side turn to raw hamburger with yellow juice oozing out. I know. I sound stupid. I hate that our human selves need validation.

I’ve seen Steph through the moment she found the lump last June, and it gained heat and girth and mass, and I denied that it was growing and changing, and she went to the gyno who sent her on to a surgeon.

I’ve even seen you and me when we were kids. When we bought that bubble bath at Walgreens and it said “for adult use only,” and we strapped on our suits and tentavely stepped in the tub. We were scared of disappearing, like Lily Tomlin, right? You were so brave, or stupid, like I was. And I always made you go first, and you did.

So I guess that’s what we do–sign up for brave and stupid suff. Or don’t sign up for it, it just happens, and then people think you’re brave or call you brave, and it’s like, “Brave? BRAVE? Insane is more like it. Stark raving nuts. Wanna do a shot?” Honestly, though, I didn’t think I had it in me. I still don’t. I know I don’t. I saw a picture of Steph with no hair and no eyebrows and no lashes the other day and I forgot. I forgot that I came home to that every day. That bald head. It hurts to look back on it, like I almost think I didn’t do it. We didn’t do it. Not like Steph has breasts still, because everyday I see that she doesn’t. I don’t know. People stop asking, and I want them to ask, because I want to talk about it.

I guess I’m just having a funk period. Sorry about my pity party. Just sometimes I think I’m crazy and if anyone will give me validation it’s you. I know I’ve placed a heavy load on you in the few months, and you’ve had to listen more than talk. But I do thank you. I don’t want any other outlet than you and Steph, though. And she’s the one going through the shit, so it’s you to help me back to sanity. Sorry about that.

Anyway, I’m gonna go crazy on you when you and B get out here later this month. Please prepare yourself for listening (I know…not again, right?). You are the one who never judges me, always listens, and even when you think I’m nuts, you’ll tell in such a pretty way that I almost love being outta my head.

Better go. Thanks for always being there. Wish you lived on, like, the fourth floor. Or the fifth. Fourth floor reeks.

Love,

Britt 

Fresh and gross, but it’s liquid sunshine!

Dear Jessie,

Whew. My ears are still ringing from the whir of my Juiceman. Those limes sure go down with a fight. I’m still on the life juice kick, as I call it. Steph calls it a catalyst for regurgitation. Anyway, three weeks now; the most consistency I’ve shown for anything in a long time, besides wine, insomnia and eye cream. I just turned this

 

into a gallon of bright green frothy liquid that I will dine on every morning for the next week. Depsite the first cracking of the pitcher and being greeted by whiffs of something akin to liquidized mowed lawn, I’ve grown to love my morning jolt of green. I feel like I’m doing something good for myself, for the world, for Steph, and it kind of gives me a buzz. Yeah, I know–it’s freaking juice.

I started this whole thing for Miss I-only-eat-corn-and-broccoli-and-you-better-cook-the-latter-down-into-a-pile-of-unrecognable-green-mush-covered-with-orange-cheese. Now she hides when I break it out, even though I pour it into shot glasses to make it fun like a party. I’m like, I’m gonna find you somewhere in these 800 square feet, and you’re gonna take it, and we’re gonna live forever with no wrinkles and very little sagging. Sadly it remains my jug of life juice, as Steph still prefers Kool-Aid and tater tot casserole to get her going in the morning. Thank God she has an appointment with a nutritionist next week who specializes in breast cancer patients. Sigh.

Dead cucumbers and kale guts,

Britt

 Cheers!

It’s home-alone night again

Bahrittttttany-

Been thinking of you and Stephie all day girl.  Hope all went well.  Please call me when you can and give me an update. 

I’m jealous of your beer at lunch today.  Just to let you know, I ate an entire family size portion of 4 season green beans for lunch.  I am probably suffering froman MSG overdose right now.  I can tell you one thing, I am super thirsty.  It wasn’t a beer in downtown Chicago though.  Piss!  Damn real life …… I want my imaginary life with mid-day drinking, big city fun. 

Sooooo, after ”Shit Storm Monday” (as it is now known) came “Are You Fucking With Me God? Tuesday”.  Just as I was cozying up on the couch last night, the phone rang.  Lancaster Manor on the caller ID, of course.  Deep breath. 

“Hello?”   

“Hi Jessica, this Tammy (head night nurse).  There has been an incident involving your mother.”

Tammy proceeds to tell me that my mother was MOLESTED on Monday evening after I left.  A man named Tom wheeled himself up to my mother’s chair and was caught by one of the staff touching the insides of her thighs and between her legs. 

**Appropriate pause so you can yell “What the fuck?!?!?”**

So, this Tom fellow is in his late 80’s.  From my experience he is a pleasant individual.  He is definitely one of the more coherent of the group.  We’ve had plenty of conversations about his time in the military, him once being an extra in a western movie, and his degree in math.  He’s a flirty guy, but always pretty cool around me.  He likes to whistle when he sees us sitting and talking in the cafeteria.  He sings show tunes and knows everyone’s names. 

There is another side to him though.  I don’t know if it’s an effect of old age or just who he is.  Occasionally, his friendly banter will turn perverted.  He’ll ask old, demented ladies if they want to touch his pickle.  I even watched him ask one of the loony, out of it women to kiss him once.  She did.  I thought it was funny (I’m a sick, sick individual.  I know.) 

Anyway, I knew he was a little off, but totally thought he was harmless.  I mean, how much can you get away with while stuck in a wheel chair attached to an oxygen tank, right?  Although, sometimes his coversations were inappropriate, my mom has no problem sticking up for herself.  She calls him names and shoos him away.  Plus, he’s one of the only residents that talks to her on a regular basis.  Most of the old bittys there can’t hear, and my mom can’t see.  It’s hard to carry on a conversation, you know?  I was just grateful that there was another person in that place that could see her as human being needing a little human interaction.

I’ve seen him get repremanded by the staff before, and there are plenty of residents that he is not allowed near.  Now I know why, I guess.

Anyway, Tammy had to call me, as it is policy to notify the family when they are making an incident report.  He is now not allowed to come near my mom and the staff are on high alert.  Tammy even said that she would be calling his Dr.  Apparently there is a medication they can give that will kill a man’s sex drive. 

After that call, I just shut my phone off.  I couldn’t handle anymore on a Tuesday.

I feel like I should be more outraged than I am.  That maybe a different person would call the authorities and make a case out of it.  She is incapacitated and unable to defend herself.  It is NOT OK.

The truth is that place is a mad house….an insane asylum.  I’m not shocked really, just frustrated.  At least I can rest knowing that she doesn’t remember any of it. 

Ok, off to switch laundry and unload the dishwasher…..and fill up a glass of wine.  The week is more than half over.  THANK GOD.

rainbows and unicorns, fer

ps.  They play top 40 music in the cafeteria in the evenings.  We were listening to Kelly Clarkson “Because of you” the other night when my mom said “This reminds me of my mom.”  You and me both, lady.

Getting a scrap of sanity back

Hey Fer,

I’m a headin’ back to the gym! Yep, in eight short hours I will be sweating out Coors Light and cancer care-giver stress. I’m aiming for twenty on the treadmill, as it’s been a year since Bally’s has seen this sad and sorry face. I’m banking on this to rebalance my brain juice. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow after work, just know that you were always a super fun girl.

So radiation has started. Steph went today for her first. That makes one down, 39 to go. This is her profile on the triple negative forums:

dx Sept. 4 2007

IDC (stage 2-3ish-neoadjuvant chemo)

BRCA2 positive

4 A/C 4 Taxol

Bilateral mastectomy 2-15-08

5 nodes neg

Start rads 4-7-08

Need a translator? Here, let me assist. She was diagnosed September 4th of last year with infiltrating ductal carcinoma. She had eight rounds of chemo, four of Adriamycin/Cytoxin, four of Taxol, before any other treatment (hence the neo) in order to shrink the 2.7 cm tumor in the left breast, which she used to have. They’re both in the incinerator at Northwestern as of February 15 of this year. All lymph nodes taken were found to be negative of cancer, due to chemo before surgery, so we’ll never know if the fucker spread. She was beamed today for the first time, so when you and Brenna make your trek to the Chi please pack some SPF.

Girl, if that $10 mascara makes you look 26, you just got yourself a bargain. Buying it just because Drew said to? Wise decision. She’s like one of three straight girls I find totally hot.

Heading out. Gotta make a batch of tea that’ll keep me young and juice $40 worth of veggies that’ll keep me full until lunch. Love you.

Squats and lunges,

Britto

Important

Did you know Jolly Ranchers makes a new candy that is a lot like Zotz?!?!?  Um, you’d best be headin’ to Walgreens like right now to get some.  The Cherorange flavor is my fave.  They’re called Jolly Ranchers Blasts.

While we are on the topic of must haves from Walgreen’s, I purchased the Drew Barrymore Covergirl mascara on Saturday.  Totally worth the $10.

Ugh, It’s Monday afternoon and I would cut a bitch for a glass of wine.  After work I have to run to the nursing home and drop off laundry, take Ki to Sprint, and then go to Kiley’s band concert.  Hopefully, it’s a short concert.  Why, why do they schedule this stuff on a Monday….the longest, suckiest day of the week?  As if parenting isn’t hard enough. 

I will, will, will get some more photos scanned this week.  Probably not tonight, but maybe tomorrow?  or Wednesday? 

Curious….about Ali.  It’s sounds like Steph had a great time.  Has she lightened up on the homo=hell thing? 

Keep me updated on Steph’s appointments.  I hope it’s all just hyper-awareness of symptoms and not anything more.  Man, you guys really don’t need another round of crap when the this round hasn’t even ended yet.

Hugs and kisses, fer

 

Pregnant lady: “…and when the baby comes I already have lots of hemp clothes for her. And I’m buying totally organic baby food. All natural products.”

Friend: “And then are you going to smoke a bowl with it, hippie?”

- Red Line

http://overheardinchicago.blogspot.com/