Riley turned two on Monday, and I would love to show you some really adorable photos of her. But I don't have any, and there are a few reasons why:
A) She refuses to smile, stay still, or acknowledge me in any way while the camera is in my hand. Instead, she prefers to yell, "No WAY Mommy!" and fling herself on the floor. Unless I bribe her with a sucker, and then she only makes the face you see in the photo above. B) She, like myself, has a raging sinus infection and the crimson-ringed nose to prove it. C) Since we live in the frozen tundra called Indianapolis and there is a foot of snow on the ground, I can't take pictures outside, which is always my preference with a very mobile toddler.
So since I can't show you her little personality with photos, I'll have to just describe to you what our Baby Shiny (and, yes, we all still call her Shiny) is like at the ripe old age of two.
-Her hair is in a weird growth pattern where it is getting longer in the front and back only, leaving her with a very mullet-like hairdo. The bad hair days continue. -She is having a language explosion, and being around her is like having a combination of Robin Williams as Mork and a Swedish exchange student living in the house. Example: "Connorsh nanunanu my have it!" Yet, some phrases are very clear (please see "A" in the list above). -She is very, very sweet. Multiple times a day I am the recipient of random hugs and "I luuub you" sentiments. -She loves playing with baby dolls, but she can also make the light saber "shwooozz" sound and will whack the heck out of you with a saber if given the opportunity.
The main thing to know about Riley at two is that we all continue to be completely enamored with her. It's been such a different experience with her than the boys, and it is almost as if she has been "our baby" instead of "my baby". And I know I say it EVERY time one of the kids has a birthday, but I can't believe she is already two years old. My head seems to be conscious of time passing, but my heart is yelling, "But I just gave birth to her yesterday!". We just filled out the enrollment forms for her to start preschool in the fall, and even the preschool director had a hard time believing it when she got the forms (Casey was in her 3 yr-old class when Riley was born). And because I am aware of how quickly time seems to be moving, I am really making an extra effort to enjoy her at this age. I know it will soon be past, and I will be looking at that same little face on a twelve year old body, probably still telling me, "No WAY Mommy!".
The most notable side effect from chemotherapy is hair loss, and statistically 100% of patients receiving the kind of chemo I am taking will lose their hair. The hair typically falls out about 2 weeks after the first treatment, so I decided this weekend since I was getting close to the two week mark to take matters into my own hands. Actually, the entire family took matters into their hands since we all took a turn cutting my hair. Doing it myself allowed me to retain some control over the situation, and to have a little fun with it rather than dwelling on the negative aspects of losing my hair. Don't get me wrong - I'm not happy to be sitting here typing this sporting the Mr. Clean look, but I think I feel better about it this way than if I woke up one morning with my tresses clinging to my pillow instead of my scalp. Cutting it before it got all scraggly also gave me the opportunity to donate the hair to Locks of Love, which is a very cool organization that makes wigs for children who have lost their hair due to a medical condition or treatment. Something I just learned about Locks of Love is that although they require 10 inches of hair to utilize in making a wig, they can accept hair at any length and if it isn't long enough they can sell the hair and use the proceeds to offset the cost of making their wigs. How cool is that?
I made a little video to memorialize the haircut, and as you'll see the kids really got into helping me. I guess it's not everyday you get to help your mom shave her head! The crazy hairdos the kids were wearing were Casey's idea.
I think my favorite look might have been this "punk Mommy" style. Maybe I was a skater chic or a punk rocker in a former life? It felt strangely comfortable.
I head back to the oncologist tomorrow for the second round of chemo, and I'm armed with some new drugs this time and hopeful for a smoother week than the first round. If not, at least I no longer require someone to hold my hair while I get sick!
Back in July of last year, I made a little prediction. After having your picture taken with Casey on his 5th birthday, I predicted that it was a good omen and that our meeting brought you good luck that would take you back to the Super Bowl. You can thank me by sending me tickets to Miami. I don't even require club level - anything you have to spare will do just fine.
Your Welcome, Jen
P.S. Thanks for kicking the Jets' ass. Their fans were really obnoxious.
Rob & I headed back down to the IUOR yesterday to have my chemo port placed. This surgery was much faster than my first (duh) and I had an easier time transitioning out of anesthesia. They "fast-tracked" me out of recovery, which was fine with me because the recovery area is a bizarre slice of hospital life, and once I was on my feet and all my vitals were good they sent us on our way. We then headed up to my oncologist's clinic on the northside of Indy, about 7 miles from our house so that I could receive the first round of chemo. After checking my blood counts to ensure I was in good shape to receive treatment, the nurse got started with administering the first drug, Adriamycin. Adriamycin is classified as a antitumor antibiotic, and it is cell-cycle specific. That means it only affects cells when they are dividing, preventing cancer cells from rapidly dividing and growing. Unfortunately, the drug doesn't know the difference between cancer cells and healthy cells, so it prevents division in all of them, which is why hair loss is a side-effect of this drug. After the nurse pushed the Adriamycin through a syringe hooked up to my port, she then hooked up the next drug, Cytoxan, to an IV drip connected to my port. Cytoxan is an alkylating agent, which means it is cell-cycle non-specific, and means that it affects cells that are in the resting phase. All told, it took about 2 hours to receive my chemo cocktail, and then we headed home. I was exhausted from the day's activities, but other than that I felt pretty good. After I was home for a little while, however, I began having that icky "hangovery" feeling, and sure enough before too long I started getting really sick. Even after taking some more antimetics, I still got sick, and so we will definitely need to tweak my meds before the next round, because they reassured me yesterday that they can keep trying drugs until they find a combination that works. Apparently vomiting and chemo don't go hand-in-hand anymore, and so I'm hopeful we can get it worked out. Today I feel tired and a little weak, but I've kept food and (THANK GOD!) coffee down this morning, so I hope today will be better. I actually feel some relief that I've gotten started and am on my way to getting all this over with. 1 round down, just 15 to go!
I've had some cocktail hours in the past that were certainly more enjoyable than yesterday's, but Rob was with me the whole day and we tried to have a little fun with it. The photo was a quick one I snapped with my laptop, and I took it before I'd had any chemo so that's why we're smiling so big. FYI - the pink ribbon Colts hat I'm wearing was a gift from my Dad, and I got compliments on it all day (maybe because the Colts are heading into the AFC Championship this Sunday on a mission to put the hurt on the Jets they should have received in December). I think he ordered it through nfl.com, but if anyone is interested in finding one let me know and I'll check with him and pass it on. I think they have them for all the pro teams, but why you'd want to purchase one that didn't have a horseshoe on it I don't know! GO COLTS!!!
Just a quick request from me - my sister-in-law, Jill, has a best friend who is in Haiti right now. She was there, along with her 12-yr old son, on a mission with her church group when the earthquake occurred. Jill has spoken with her briefly and knows they are both OK, but conditions are dire and they have no idea when or how they will return home. Please say a little prayer for their quick return home safe & sound.
Poor Riley. It seems she has inherited my super-fine hair, and perhaps a lifetime of bad hair days as a result. Her hair is still growing in (I didn't have a full head of hair until after I turned 2), and the only thing I can do to "style" it is pull it on top of her hair in a little feathery ponytail. As you can see from the photo, she really loves it when I do this. I might be slightly more obsessed than I normally am about hair as I am about to lose mine from the chemotherapy (I went wig shopping today, which is a whole story in itself), and maybe that is why I'm suddenly forcing her into wearing the pony or bows. Since she rips the bows out about 4.7 seconds after I put them in, I think she's just going to have to get used to the pony.
Sometimes I feel like all I've done for the past two months is wait. Waiting for test results. Waiting to get in to see a doctor. Waiting to schedule a procedure. Wait, wait, wait. And I think it is making me slightly crazy (no comments please from the peanut gallery about how I was already a little crazy to begin with!). Because, in my mind, I have this incredible urgency, "Get the cancer out!", "Treat me now!", "Let's get on with it!", and that urgency is slamming up against all this external waiting, and the resulting stress is almost painful. Some days I feel really strong and in control, and other days all I want to do is lay in bed and watch a ten hour marathon of "Tabatha's Salon Takeover" (I find something oddly comforting about watching that crazy Australian lady bitch slap everyone into submission - I think I'd like to take her with me to a few appointments and see how long they'd make me wait!). You would think after spending the past five years taking care of small children my patience threshold would be much higher, but that doesn't appear to be true. We're still waiting for some test results that we were supposed to have last week, but there was a delay at the lab (i.e. someone forgot to submit my sample for testing) and I think that has ratcheted up my frustration level a notch, and I'm praying that when they come back (hopefully this Friday) I will feel some relief. But until then, in the immortal words of Tom Petty, "The waiting is the hardest part."
No pun intended, but if you're an Indianapolis Colts fan, you've probably been feeling blue for the past two days. Or, if you're like me, you've been cursing a blue streak every time you think about the Colts management pulling the starters in the third quarter and cheating the players and fans of becoming a part of football history. I've watched this group of guys tough it out and win games this season based on sheer will; watched them play through injury and adversity to somehow win every game, and honestly I've found them inspirational. As far as I could tell, they were on course to replace the '72 Dolphins in football mythology - to become kings among kings. And then... their bosses quit on them. You could see it on the faces of Reggie Wayne, Dallas Clark, and certainly Mr. Manning as they watched a team of untested back-ups fail to hold a five point lead and allow their undefeated season to slip away. I've read all the justifications - resting the starters for the play-offs, that undefeated was never the goal, that this team's main obligation to their fans is to bring them a championship, blah, blah, blah. I don't like it, I don't agree with it, I don't understand it.
But Coach Jim Caldwell made a statement yesterday that almost made me empathize with him (almost being the operative word there). He said, "Once you make a decision, you have to live with it." Right now, I'm waiting on the results of a test that will give more information about my cancer and the likelihood that I will experience a recurrence of the cancer. This is supposed to help us make a more informed decision about whether or not to do chemotherapy, and the results may come back providing definitive evidence one way or the other, but more than likely not, and I will have the make the decision myself. I've done lots of reading trying to educate myself as best as I can. I've made a list of pros and cons. I've tried to approach it from every angle to try and ensure that I have completely thought everything through. Ultimately though, it may come to this: I will make a decision, and I will live with it. The people who know and love me will have to accept my decision, and they too will have to live with it. I know there is a significant difference between a football game and cancer, but I can't help but draw a comparison.
So I'm inclined to cut the men upstairs a little slack (little being the operative word there). Maybe they know something we don't (maybe they know alot of somethings we don't). Maybe they approached it from every angle to try and ensure they thought it completely through. Maybe they even had a list of pros and cons. And having watched these Colts grit it out and win some heart attack close games, I feel pretty confident that they have the mental fortitude to get past this disapointment and get on with winning. As a fan, I don't have to agree with Sunday's decision or like it, but ultimately I do understand that sometimes in life, you make a decision, and you live with it.
... the joy of being surrounded by loved ones ... the blessings of health and good fortune ... a very Happy 2010 ... and a Merry Christmas!
Thank you to everyone who has prayed for our family this year, we hold you all dear in our hearts! We hope your Christmas Day is as wonderful as ours has been!
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Perhaps it is all the medical talk going on around here, but the book above is the one Casey chose last week during his weekly trip to the school library. I can't come up with any other feasible reason why a 5 yr-old boy would check out a book on the brain and nervous system when there were so many other choices - books on Star Wars, bugs, and endless other titles more appropriate for him. When we sat down yesterday to read the book, it definitely didn't read like the typical book for a kindergartner, and I have to admit I got lost a bit in the neurons and synapses and cells (it's been a loooooonnngg time since that human anatomy class!). But Casey listened intently and asked good questions. He has asked me numerous times, "Mommy, how did you get cancer?", and so I'm wondering if this book isn't an attempt on his part to find an answer, since honestly I don't have one. Anyway, I'm all brushed up now on the three sections of the brain, so that's good, and it gives me a little giggle every time I look at it to think of Casey picking that book out of all the others in the library. He might think he's going to be a rock & roller when he grows up, but I'm thinking it's more likely we have a future doctor on our hands.
Last night we received the official pathology results from my surgery, and it was everything we hoped. Only 1 of the 32 lymph nodes removed contained cancer, and all the cancer removed from my breast had excellent margins. What this means is that as I sit here typing this post, I am doing it cancer-free. I will know more next week what implications these results have on any systemic treatments I receive, but I have to believe that treatment to keep cancer from returning has to be easier than treatment to kill existing cancer (although maybe I'm just naive and hopeful!). Regardless, I am delighted and relieved to receive these results. All those prayers seem to have worked!!
How am I feeling? Tuesday morning I felt like someone had ripped my arms off, beat me in the chest with them, and then stapled them back on my body. Since I have been home I have moments of feeling almost normal, and some moments of feeling really lousy. It is definitely not the lateral recovery that I expected - to feel bad, then little by little better and better until I felt like myself again. This experience is more like a roller coaster, one minute way up and the next way down, a few loopdy-loops thrown in for fun, and then back to the start again. Luckily, I have found that I share something in common with Barack Obama, which is that we both have personal physicians who attend to us 24 hours a day. Rob has been amazing in his care for me - I know that I could not have done this without him, and that my recovery will probably be faster as a result of his care. I think it has been an unusual experience for him, to be on both sides of care at the same time as both a doctor and the husband of a patient, and I know it has been hard. Like I said on Father's Day, they say good men are hard to find, but I was lucky to find mine when I did and smart enough not to let go.
So many people have sent ornaments to me, even people I only know as acquaintances, and I have been dumbfounded by the show of love and support. The photo above is of my little angel tree. I put it up in my room and Rob has been plugging it in for me while I'm in there resting, and it makes me smile. The other really encouraging thing about this photo is that I took it this morning, MYSELF. Which means I can hold my camera! I am restricted to my small lens, and I can't exactly chase a toddler around the park for a photo session right now and it's not the best shot I've ever taken, but I can document this experience in the best way I know how, and just knowing that makes me feel better.
Again, to everyone reading this who has prayed for my family, who has sent ornaments and cards and emails, who have blessed me with your positive thoughts - THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. I don't believe I'll ever be able to fully convey what is has meant to me, but please know how much it is all appreciated. Please imagine me giving you all a big hug, albeit a very light hug as my arms still mainly feel like they are being held on with staples!
I needed a good laugh, and this recent skit from SNL does the trick. Dave Matthews as Ozzy = brilliant, "I'm taking it easy, snacking on kettle corn!". Plus, I told Rob the way I'm shuffling around right now is very reminiscent of Ozzy, and Dave captures it perfectly.
When I was a little girl, one of our neighbors watched me while my parents worked, and I loved being at their house. They became like surrogate grandparents to me, and one of my favorite photos from our wedding is the one the photographer snapped of me with them. I remember one time, and I have no idea how old I was, one of my parents came to pick me up at the end of the day, and for some reason I didn't want to leave. I don't know why I acted like that, but I remember gripping the door to our car as either my mom or dad tried to put me in, and screaming and refusing to go. I was thinking about that event today, and thinking that the reason that I have such a clear and distinct memory of that time is that I have always harbored embarrassment for behaving so badly. I know now, as a mother myself, that sometimes kids just act out for no good reason, without understanding how their actions could be interpreted, and that rationally there is no reason to still feel badly for that one little moment in my childhood (Lord knows I did far worse things that I don't even feel the slightest tinge of guilt about!). But thinking about it today, I realized that is how I've felt for the majority of the past month. I have been going through the motions of daily life, trying to keep up with everything I have going on, and all the time in the back of my mind I have been screaming, "I don't want to go!".
But I have to go. I don't have a choice. I want to live, and so I have to go on Monday morning bright and early and allow the doctors to operate on me, to remove the cancer from my body. And I decided today that I can continue to feel like a cat refusing to go to the vet, with all four limbs braced against the door jam in refusal and risk the potential of looking back on this time with the same feeling of shame I regard that little moment from my childhood, or I can go willingly. I can accept that the only thing about this whole damn situation that I have any control over is how I handle it, and walk into the hospital in complete possession of my sense of self.
The t-shirts in the photo above were a request from Casey. When I went into the hospital to have Riley, I made them these shirts, and so when we sat down and talked to Casey about my cancer, his one question was if they could have shirts again like the last time I went to the hospital. So I thought "Why not?", and I made these for them. It makes me smile to think of the three of them wearing them on Monday, rooting me on in their own little way. My kids are my heroes. They are my inspiration. Casey was born 6 weeks early and was so tiny, and the morning after he was born the pediatrician came to examine him. He stuck his head in my hospital room and boomed, "Mrs. Alderman, that boy is tough as nails. He's going to be just fine." At less than a day old and less than 4 pounds, he was already giving the nurses in the NICU hell by pulling out his tubes and being generally stubborn. My other two babies entered this world just as obstinately, and all three have proven to have strong personalities. I figure if I can create such willful beings, then I must have that same strength and will inside me. I know I share the responsibility of their DNA with Rob, but looking at them, at their determination, I know that some of that came from me, and it is something we share. And so when I feel small and weak, I think of my little babies, and I feel strong. They are my heroes.
I re-read Lance Armstrong's book this week, and he talks in it about how those of us with cancer, how we are the lucky ones. I don't know that I fully understand that yet, but I think a sense of it has been revealed to me in the last month. An entire community of angels comprised of my family, friends, and acquaintances has surrounded me and showered me with love. I have received so many calls, cards, emails, and gifts that I am almost embarrassed by the attention. I carry all of the cards around with me in a folder so that I have a piece all of my angels with me all the time. And I think I have already been able to give something back - I have heard from so many people that as a result of my diagnosis they made doctor appointments and vows to take better care of themselves. I have to believe there is a reason for all that is happening to me, and little by little it is being revealed to me. I went to YouTube and pulled out this old Nike commercial, and it gives me so much hope. Just one year after his diagnosis he was back on the bike, winning races.
So Monday morning, bright and early, I will walk into Indiana University hospital (the same hospital where Lance was treated!) and I will kick some cancer ass. I will not be chanting "I don't want to go!". I will be thinking of all of my angels and I will put myself in God's hands, and in the hands of highly gifted doctors, and I will beat this thing. That same little girl who gripped the door of the car so tight and refused to leave still lives in me, and I will take her determination and add it to all the love I have gathered, and I will go. And then I'll keep going. After all, I have three heroes to raise.
Now that I have dispensed with the nasty business of telling everyone about my diagnosis, I can get back to writing about the important things in my life, like Christmas card photos of the kids (wink, wink, nudge, nudge). I was very fortunate this fall to be really busy with my photography business, and I had the chance to photograph some adorable kids. I got some really great photos, and feedback from families that I had captured their kids better than anyone before. So I was feeling pretty good about my skills and confident that I could get at least one really great photo of my kids. And yet again, I failed miserably (remember last year?) . So I present to you "Outtakes 2009".
I was hoping to capture the kids enjoying a warm fall evening playing with each other and having fun. Something that said, "We love each other and we wish you a wonderful Christmas." I think I captured, "We would rather be inside watching Scooby Doo and eating stale Halloween candy than smiling for the crazy woman behind the camera, even if she is our mother." Even though these aren't top-notch, I did manage to get a few cute ones and was able to put together a pretty card, so that's one more thing I can cross off my "to-do before the big surgery" list.
Oh, and I had to go the doctor this morning because I was running a fever and felt like I had been hit by a bus. I have H1N1. So, for those of you keeping score, that's Major Illnesses = 2, Jen = 0.
A few posts ago I wrote about turning 34, and referenced a Talking Heads lyric "how did I get here?" as I felt it related to my life on that occasion. Little did I know that just a short month later, that song and those lyrics would hold even more relevance to me. On October 30, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Not exactly the kind of tricks and treats I thought would be in store for us Halloween weekend. How did I get here?
When the doctor said the words, "I'm so sorry, it's cancer." I felt like not only had the rug been pulled out from under me, but that I had been bashed over the head with it as well. The next thing I knew I had appointments lined up with oncological and plastic surgeons, social workers, and genetic counselors. Rob & I began reading and researching - I had been enrolled at Cancer U without ever even asking for an entrance exam. I wouldn't call myself an expert on breast cancer yet, but I'm sure as hell getting there. We are still waiting for the results of some tests to come back, but I know a few things for certain. I will require major surgery, and I will most likely require some form of chemotherapy, and radiation has not been ruled out. How did I get here?
I've already experienced anger - I have 3 babies at home that depend on me to take care of them. I do not have time to be sick! I have felt sadness and confusion - how did this happen to me? I'm too young for this! I've felt a part of some sort of cosmic joke - I ran triathlons to raise money for cancer research! I donated my hair for wigs for cancer patients! Don't I get a "get out of cancer free" card? Apparently not. How did I get here?
I have also felt incredible love and support. Our family immediately jumped into action to offer anything, and our friends responded the same way. I might feel like a part of a sick joke, but I do not feel alone. I also feel very lucky to have access to the medical team that has been assembled for my treatment, and I have every confidence that together we will beat this cancer.
I've been struggling to figure out how I will handle all of this on the blog. On the one hand, this is the place where I keep folks following it (mostly friends and family) updated about what's going on around here, and to share stories and photos from our lives. So it seems natural that my cancer would be a part of that. But on the other hand, I don't want this to become a "cancer blog", yet I know very soon that it will become pretty consuming and there will be little else to write about. I still don't have an answer, and so there may be a lapse between posts while I figure it out. I'm also toying with the idea of making the blog more private, so that you have to log in before you can read it (right now it is not accessible from search engines or by browsing through blogger - you have to know it's here to find it). Wasn't I just posting about someone pooping in the sink and making jam? How did I get here?
The reality is I don't know how I got here, or why. I know that there has to be a reason, even if I don't know it yet. I know that something good will come from all of it, even if it doesn't seem like that is possible right now. I know that with the support of my family and friends I will survive this and be stronger for it.
... You Got the Best, The Hottest Band in the Land... The ALDERMANS!!!! OK, so maybe not quite as exciting as KISS playing a set on our block, but we did pull out the old school Gene & Paul make-up for Halloween last night. By all accounts we took top honors in the adult costume category, and more importantly our kids thought we were pretty cool. The kids totally rocked their Star Wars costumes, and thank goodness for my quick shutter because Riley refused to keep the Princess Leia buns on for more than a split second.
It was a crazy weekend - Imagination Movers' concert, Halloween, and the Colts game yesterday. There was also a little something else added in the mix, and I'm still trying to figure out how to handle it "blog-wise", so I'll keep you posted on that when I work it out.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I'm just coming up for air here for a bit. It's been crazy around here, and I always feel like this time of year is being lived in fast forward. Fall, Halloween, then vroooooooommm, Thanksgiving and Christmas. Today was perhaps the last beautiful and warm day of the year - 73 and sunny - and the kids are on fall break so we headed to the zoo. Last week, however, was gray, gray, gray. I snapped the photos above one afternoon, and the one of Riley really seemed the capture the mood of a dreary fall day. And even though it was dull outside, I managed to coax a few bright grins from the boys. I may be quiet around here for the next little bit as we navigate everything that is going on, but I'll try to press pause when I can.
Today is my birthday, and this year it snuck up on me. I've been so focused on everything else going on that I pushed turning 34 to the back of my mind, and even yesterday when a friend called to say happy birthday I had a brief moment of thinking that I had lost a day and had forgotten about it altogether. But today is the big day, and I'm feeling quite ambivalent about the occasion. This is one of those days where I feel like the Talking Heads song "Once in a Lifetime" is the soundtrack to my life:
" And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile,
And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife.
And you may ask yourself... well, how did I get here?"
Life seems to be moving so fast - yesterday I was a new wife working on a career, and the next minute I was a new mom with a premature baby in my arms, and then a few seconds later I was staying home to raise three kids and putting that first tiny baby on the bus to go to kindergarten. How did I get here?
I set my camera up on Riley's dresser and snapped this quick photo of us this morning, because I felt the need to capture the memory of this day - of me being 34 and her being little still. Looking at it I feel very blessed to have the people I have in my life, and although I have no idea how I got here, I just feel lucky that I am.
Tomorrow is Connor's 3rd birthday, so in honor of that I had to post this picture. I submitted it as an entry in a contest my web hosting company was having to celebrate their birthday. I didn't win the contest, but I did end up with this super cute photo of him. I'm hoping he wears a much different expression at his party tomorrow.
