Blech. Today was dumb.

Today, I feel like someone took an extra stretchy ace bandage and wrapped it around my body as tight as they could. I feel the suffocating pressure, the extreme discomfort and the throbbing pain that goes with it. With every step. With every breath.
Today, my patience was made very thin and in turn, I haven’t tolerated much of anything very well.
Today, I’ve been extra emotional, tears soaking my cheeks and smearing my mascara.

Blech. Today was dumb.

And.

Today had delicious food and sweet laughter in it with fun friends from work.
Today had connection in it as I sat with a hurting friend over coffee, hearing her heart, honored that she’d share it with me.
Today had love in it as I cooked dinner with my kid for our family, a role-reversal that blessed my husband.
Today had gratitude in it.

Both.
+
And.

*Post 946

The Tears :: 11/5/17 :: Post 69

The tears won’t stop tonight.

I’m crying because of food…Everything tastes awful, nothing sounds good, my stomach is so unpredictable that I don’t know what will sit well, I’m hungry but have no appetite, I’m overwhelmed by what I should and shouldn’t eat, I’m unsure if what I eat feeds cancer or if cancer hates it, I’m uncertain if any of it matter anyways….. Do I fast before the next round? Do I not? What will make the side effects better? Or worse? Does it even matter? Will I even know? Does food as fuel and/or medicine have any merit? I have so many questions and yet no capacity to do the research…

I’m crying because of parenting…I wish parenting could stop while I battle for my life. Relationships feel so fragile. Holding kids accountable to appropriate behavior is hard when I, myself, want to have massive temper-tantrum-esque meltdowns. Holding sisters accountable to loving interactions is hard when they are, too, at their wits end having to fight for mom’s life. Who knows what is actually going on in their heads… and hearts. I don’t know how they really are – they say they are okay, but are they? How would I know? Will it manifest itself in the now or are we talking years from now the reality of it all will hit them hard?

I’m crying because I have no more capacity. I’m spent. This past chemo week took everything out of me. I’m exhausted and fried and I’ve literally done nothing. Except a mile walk today…in Costco… a win is a win, I guess. I have to work this week and while I’m anxious to get back into a routine, I’m nervous about how it will go because so far, nothing has been routine. Round 2 did NOT go like round 1 like they said it would. What does that mean for the week ahead? What does that mean for round 3? How can I prepare for what I don’t know? That’s the sucky thing – I can’t. I just have to be…and if be-ing sucks, then it is just gonna suck.

I’m crying because I feel like throwing up. Again. I hate puking. After throwing up anywhere from 4-12 times A DAY for EACH DAY I was pregnant with ALL THREE pregnancies, you’d think God would have mercy on me and never let me puke again. But no. Here we are. With cancer….and cancer with puking… even though the nurses said that “we can pretty much manage nausea so that you don’t vomit because our anti-nausea meds are that good these days.” *eye roll* Here’s Amber – breaking the mold. Again. And puking. I suppose it is a little unfair to think that because I puked so much while pregnant that I’d never have to puke again in my life. I guess that’s where I went wrong… I gotta manage my expectations better, apparently.

I’m crying because the end is so far away. Being where my feet are is hard when the dark dark road ahead is all-consuming. 4 is a small number until it has anything to do with chemo. 4 more rounds of this 5-drug hell. “4” seems like the biggest number on the planet right now. “4” seems so overwhelming. “4” seems so never-ending. And yeah, I know 4 isn’t 6 and I’ve got 2 down and I should feel good about that, but even my nurse on infusion #2 last Monday said, “2 is good but I wish you were at 3 because 3 left is way better than 4 left.” She gets it. Yup.

I’m crying because my 9-year-old is crying. My little wants to have some friends over. My little wants to be a part of a talent show. My little wants to plan for and prepare for and perform. How cool. How sad that I do not have it in me to help her with organizing this. How sad that I can barely get through the day taking care of myself, let alone my family. How sad that I sit here and feel overwhelmed by her desire to be 9. Effing cancer. What else are you gonna take away from me and my family?

I’m crying because my husband was overwhelmed today. How awful I feel that I cannot manage to lift a finger to help. My husband has an incredible capacity and can hold A LOT. So, when he is at his max, you know things are spilling over the edge of an already full cup. It is incredibly difficult to sit here and be a part of the problem…to be a part of the reason the best person in my world is overwhelmed. It feels so sad to sit here and have only the ability to cry while he tries to keep it all together. It’s so hard to explain just how useless, how humiliating, how vulnerable it feels.

I’m crying because my heart is heavy-laden with the hardness of now. Everything. Everything is hard. Sleeping is hard. Eating is hard. Looking in the mirror is hard. Getting dressed is hard. Relationship is hard. Parenting is hard. Working is hard. Be-ing is hard. Being where my feet are….the hardest task I have ever been called to. There is no escape to easier. It’s just one foot trudging in front of the other…

I’m crying because I feel so weak. I read through all of these things and it seems so defeating. I write all of this feeling defeated. I also know that I am not. There is no need for the panic button – I haven’t lost hope, but reality is reality.

22000 Steps Later :: 11/5/18 :: Post 419

Oh today….. what an amazingly wonderful day here in NYC with my love and my sweet friend. Despite the constant steady rain, it was a perfect day

Soul-filling

Walked the Brooklyn Bridge to Brooklyn. Then the Manhattan Bridge back into Manhattan. The views. The bridges. The conversation. The quiet. The noise of the city.

Then brunch at a local favorite of Felicia’s…and the time with her was soooooo good. She asked how I was, how our family was…we talked and cried and laughed. We asked how she was, how San Diego was, how work was….she’s amazingly determined.

Then tattoos. Forever mementos to commemorate life-lessons and special friendships. “Be.” has and will continue to mean so much to us as we walk this life so very presently.

Then Central Park and Gapstow Bridge and fall colors and picturesque ponds and God’s beauty.

Then Rockefeller and a much needed break for my soaking feet and hurting body.

Then Little Italy date night with my most favorite person on this planet. Yummy food. Amazing dessert.

This day was perfect. 22 thousand steps and 10 miles later…..bed.time.

Gratitude Month Day 5 :: 11/5/19 :: Post 781

November 5 of 2017 was a sad day. In reading what I wrote two years ago, I spent most of my day crying about the life I was living. My last paragraph of my post that day: I’m crying because my heart is heavy-laden with the hardness of now. Everything. Everything is hard. Sleeping is hard. Eating is hard. Looking in the mirror is hard. Getting dressed is hard. Relationship is hard. Parenting is hard. Working is hard. Be-ing is hard. Being where my feet are….the hardest task I have ever been called to. There is no escape to easier. It’s just one foot trudging in front of the other…

November 5 of 2018 was a very different day. I was in NYC, spending the day walking the city with my friend and my husband with the energy necessary to presently enjoy all that that trip offered. While still exhausted and spent, it was a great day of celebration. The icing on the cake was getting matching tattoos with my dear crazy-marathon-running-friend – “be.” Interesting to me that a year prior, I said “being is the hardest task I have ever been called to.”

Then we come to today. 2019. Today was another day of practicing the hard lessons learned to just ‘be’… As I went to work, knowing that I had a job to do despite feeling terrible, the pending results of my MRI ever-present in my mind, I knew I needed to ‘be’ in the present and not yet write a story that hasn’t been written. My MRI results were negative so that is a chapter I don’t have to write. The RA, though, is yet to be determined. I remain in that unknown for the time being, trying not to write that story too soon, as well.

Gratitude Month Day 5 – I’m grateful for the practice of lessons learned.