I'm Going To Stop Writing Notes To Myself



 

I have two parents; one's a saver, one's a thrower-awayer. Dad has a series of boxes hidden somewhere that he calls "The Archives." I'm sure it has my Kindergarten report card, a crayon drawing from 5th grade and the program from my college graduation. That kind of stuff, times 60 years of collecting. If Mommy came across something like that, she's say this is clutter and what are we going to save it for. That's why her house is immaculate. I trend toward saving and that's why my house is a mess.

 

I don't think there is a right or wrong, but this "saving" or "remembering" thing that I have bit me in the ass while I was decorating for Christmas. I don't know if it's the journalist in me, but writing stuff down to "save" it for later has always been big. I kept a journal in high school - it is now the most hysterical thing to read. My spelling was just as bad as it is now and my handwriting was worse. Also, I write myself a Leap Day Letter every four years. I have four of them so far. I tell my 4 year future self what's going on now and I ask her questions about what it's like when I read it the future. I project where I think I'm going to be in four years. In 2004's Leap Letter, Chris and I just started dating. In 2008's letter, we were planning our wedding. I like to see how things change and what you thought it would be like.

 

While opening up one of my 36 Rubbermaid containers full of decorations, I found a note I wrote myself last year. I must have been in a good mood when I was cleaning up from Christmas, because I gave the 2012 Meredith some information to make decorating easier this year. Namely, (see below) that "several strands of light on the garland don't work." In other words, I was too lazy to fix it at the end of the 2011 season, but be forewarned for the 2012 season. Because I knew I would be reading this little note to myself 12 months later, I added "are you pregnant?" as a note to myself. Last year at this time, it was totally plausible that I might be pregnant right now. If only the 2011 Meredith knew what was coming. I opened the container this year, took out the garland, found the note at the bottom and sat down and cried. No, I'm not pregnant. No, I'm never gonna be pregnant. Yes, I think I might stop writing myself notes. Who could have known? It stung a little bit.

 

Numbers are up and so is my frustration level

I'm having a grumpy day. My numbers bumped up a little. I had 9 hours of chemo yesterday and I missed a big Christmas party. I'm just in a bad mood.

The stupid hCG went from 7.4 to 10.9 - just enough to be annoying. I panicked two weeks ago when it shot from 4 to 39. So a three point creep to 10 is nothing compared to that. But 10 is not good enough. 10 means there's still cancer. And I am so sick and tired of cancer.

Chemo at the office was fine yesterday. Kristin, and special guests Angie and Marcia are the highlights. I saw my dear friend and chemo buddy, Agnes and she's in need of extra prayers right now. So say one for her in my stead this week. We need to lift her and her family up to the Lord.

I'm trying not to project too far ahead. However, this continued roller coaster of hCG levels is really frustrating. And I don't want to continue to do this up and down for months. I feel like it simply means what we are doing is not working. I think everyone else is like 97% sure I won't die, but when I get nervous, I'm only 85% sure I won't die. And that 15% can be a bitch on a bad day.

I'm still trying to laugh and Mean Cards helped me do that this week. This is a line of greeting cards that are simply mean. I bought 4 of them for friends, so if you get one, it means I love you even though the card is mean. I found this one and bought it for myself.

The words are a little fuzzy, but is says "A lot of us think you're faking." With that picture of the chemo pole and the head hanging low, like he's guilty. I was laughing out loud in the store. This is what I think a lot of people at work think. I'm sure they are like, that bitch is not even sick, she's always been dramatic, she shaved her head and just wanted a solid year off of work. She's a doctor's wife and doesn't need the money anyway, this was just the way she would get out of work rather than quitting like everyone else. So for the people who think that, this card is from me to you!

This is the inside:

It reads: "not me, of course." I feel like this is a card Joe Mitton would send and I would laugh. I kept laughing while I was at the store, Tellus 360, the re-claimed wood store on East King Street. That's where I got the cards. They also had a mean magnet I thought was perfect. It now graces my fridge.

Same stick figure, holding a Martini glass saying "it will make everything all better." I agree and I can't wait to drink one. So good when it touches the lips!!

Hopefully someday soon ....

Who's That Girl?

I like to think I'm "Medium Maintenance." Not terribly high maintenance (other than those fancy shoes) but not a Tom Boy either. If you ask Paige, who we vacation with a lot, it does take me long enough to get ready to go out for a fancy dinner. I'm not a product-whore though. I put moisturizer on my face, but I don't put 4 different moisturizers on my face. Are you getting my drift?

Well, I say this only to explain how absolutely lazy I have now become. There are some people who say put your make-up on every day, regardless of chemo or hospitalization or how you actually feel. I can understand their urging. I have chosen not to do that.

There are several reasons I'm going au natural. First, it's easier. Cancer is hard enough, I'm taking the easy way out. Second, I barely leave the house. Who am I going to see? And for the poor unfortunate souls who come to see me, they have to look at my regular face. Third, it hurts. My eyes at least. The chemo affects a lot of mucosal membranes, which is why my mouth and the lining of my stomach hurt a lot. Well, your eyes are wet too. When I'm on chemo, my eyes are sensitive and red. They get irritated very easily and make-up only makes it worse. I haven't lost my eyelashes or my eyebrows. Put that in the plus column. The eyelashes are a little thinner, but let's be honest, at this point I would glue dog hair to the lids just so it looked like there was something there. That's probably not my best look though. So just like that, I've rationalized no make-up.

It doesn't stop there though. I've realized there are a lot of things I've stopped doing. Some for good reason, others for laziness, others just because I'm out of my routine. At first, I thought that when I lost my hair I would rock some really great hoops. Big earrings for a big bald head. Absolutely not. I looked retarded. Totally ridiculous. If I think of it, I'll do an earring fashion show and snap some pics. Not a good look for me. So I downgraded (if you can even call it that :-) to diamonds! Chris bought me perfect studs for our wedding and I usually wear them in second hole in my ear. I moved them up, thinking diamonds are classic and they'd look fine. They looked beautiful, but I quickly realized how much it hurts to have metal poking into the side of your head at night. With hair, the posts of all earrings are buffered a bit. With this shiny noggin' there was nowhere for the posts to go but straight into my skull. After about a week of bad sleep, I ditched the diamonds and earrings all together.

Thong underwear. I'm a fan. Typically. Years ago I decided as a semi-attractive person who wears suit pants each day, I could rock a thong on a daily basis. I don't typically find it uncomfortable or annoying. Very used to the dental floss between my ass cheeks by now. Until cancer that is. I have had two uterine surgeries and plenty of ass problems (see several previous posts) and thong underwear is a thing of the past. It just has to be that way. So instead of graduating to semi-normal regular underwear, I went straight to Granny Panties. If you're a Costco shopper, you might be familiar with them. They call them the it-sie-bit-sie brand. But there is nothing it-sie or bit-sie about these bad boys. I can pretty much tuck them under my bra (which I still wear, even cancer can't get me out of good boobage support.) I did buy them in cute pink-ish colors. But believe me, even a nice pastel pink hue can't make these look sexy when Chris is looking. The poor man. I'm a bald woman, who wears no make-up, ditched the beautiful jewelry he's given me and I walk around in underwear that looks like a 1920's swim suit. I thought I just should up the game a bit.

I was feeling well this weekend. We decided to go out to a nice dinner. I actually wore pants that were not for yoga or sweating. In fact, I had a whole fun new outfit on, thanks to my dear friend and personal shopper Chris Steltz who works at the Limited. She said I could rock the ankle length print pant (now ankle-length is cool, my whole life I've been wearing ankle length and they called me Floods - also see previous posts). I even put on heels and a WIG! (Still very uncomfortable. When I put it on, I think I spent so much money on these, I should really wear them more. But then I remember instantly why I don't like wearing them. Scratchy and the hair is always poking me in the face. If we're going for Granny Panties style comfort, bald is best.) Then I hit the mirror with my make-up bag and went to town. Putting on my "face" is like riding a bike. Right back into the swing of things. I have this process down pat. The only problem is, it's been so long since I used some of the make-up the shit is all dried up and cruddy. See, now cancer is costing me money in make-up. Gosh, is there nothing cancer won't fuck up? Anyway, I got all dolled up with somewhere to go!

This is a terrible picture. Am I really that wide or did the camera distort that photo? I'm going with, "it's the camera's fault." Also, it looks like Barlie's about to poop and who is that woman on the TV?? We were watching some really annoying shows including Jungle Gold, but I don't know what show that is. Either way. I got dressed up and made Chris take a picture.

The funniest part is I wanted to go to this restaurant we've never been to before. It's hard to get into. So I called and made a reservation, even went online and looked at the menu. Then we walk in and I say to Chris, "Wait, we've been here before. This is not where I wanted to go." Well, too late. Chemo brain took over, messed that one up. But it was nice to be out with my honey. As soon as we got in the car I ripped the wig off and threw it in the backseat and unbuttoned my pants for the ride home because I was so full. Classy as always!