Leaf Fun!

The foliage this year is nothing short of breathtaking.  I don't remember another year where the colors have been as vibrant and the sky has been routinely blue and clear. The weather this fall has been spectacular, and I've been taking full advantage by being outside.

Robby has adjusted to his full-day school routine and instead of picking up an exhausted little guy, he is now full of energy and ready to play. Each afternoon we have been spending a few hours playing outside. Although I still don't understand some of the games we play, he seems to know what is going on and is having fun so I've learned to just go with the flow.

A few days ago Robby found the rake in our garage and began working on the leaves in the yard. I was delighted that he was willingly helping with raking. I didn't want anything to interrupt his working, so I quietly began to pick up and bag sticks. After about 30 minutes he managed to create an imposing leaf pile that was at least four feet high and six feet wide. Unfortunately, it was created in the middle of our yard, so I knew that it was going to have to be dismantled and moved.

It turns out that my little helper had a plan that had nothing to do with helping. After I acknowledged the mass of his pile, he walked up the hill turned towards the leaf mountain and took off running. The fact that his boots came off in the middle of his sprint did not diminish his belly flop dive into the middle of his pile!

After crashing into the leaves, he urged me to run and jump in as well. Although I knew that the leaf pile was large, I also realized that it wasn't nearly big enough to cushion my bum. I'm too old to dive into leaves, but not wanting to disappoint him, I came up with the next best option.

Leaf fight!  Robby and I spent the next 45 minutes chasing each other around the yard, trying to throw handfuls of leaves at each other. By the time the sun was setting, we were famished, exhausted, and covered with dirt, leaf bits. and more than a few spiders.  Our fight managed to disperse the leaves that were had been carefully piled, saving me the trouble of having to move the massive collection.

Robby may be too big to kiss me goodbye in front of his classmates, but I'm happy that he still wants to play with me. I know that these times are limited so I'm thoroughly enjoying every moment!

Cruise Anticipation!

According to my countdown clock, we only have 60 days until Christmas. I love the holiday season which for me starts with Halloween. I relish decorating the house, baking yummy treats to share, and playing "room mom extraordinaire" during Robby's school parties.  I know that the next two months will fly which is why I am vowing to make the most of every moment.

We have a few adventures scheduled before Christmas with the biggest being what Robby has dubbed "our free cruise." I was invited to join a group of amputees on what is being called the "AmpuCruise" during the first week of December. When I first received the invitation, I was cautious about becoming too excited. I just didn't want to deal with the disappointment if it didn't work out.
  
The timing of the cruise is not ideal which has been the source of most of my cruise anxiety. Thankfully, Scott has been able to swing things at work so that he can take the leave time. After talking with his teacher, Robby will be sailing with a backpack full of assorted worksheets and school projects that will be due when he returns. Everything seems to have worked out to make this adventure possible, and I'm finally allowing myself the luxury of becoming excited.

Robby and I have spent hours pouring over the ship plans and activities. I've also tried to prep him so that he does not say or do anything inappropriate when he meets our fellow amputee passengers. We have talked, in detail about the different types of amputees and what he may see. I'm going to continue reiterating that he can ask questions privately to avoid staring or doing anything inappropriate. 

Technically, I will be working on the cruise, so all of my time will not be my own. Rest assured I am anticipating plenty of opportunities to enjoy the cruising fun. After all, working on a cruise ship sounds like an oxymoron! I can't believe I'll be saying Bon Voyage in 40 days!

Growth Anxiety

I am relieved that both my cancer scans and my kidney functioning tests came back yielding a healthy diagnosis. Unfortunately, the MRI images used to measure the size of my pituitary tumors revealed some growth. I avoid using the term "tumor" because I find it frightening as it immediately conjures up images of malignancy. Because they are benign, I prefer to think of them as growths. The doctors were pleased that no "fingering" was evident on the growths, but the fact that they are still present and have gained mass is not comforting.

I've been trying to downplay the impact of the pituitary growths, but truth be told the news of the increasing size threw me for a loop. According to the specialists, I am not yet a candidate for surgery because the risks continue to outweigh any possible benefits. For the time being, as long as they are stable in size and not "fingering," my symptoms will be treated medically.

While the news of the growing growths took me off guard, in retrospect I am not surprised. I've been experiencing increasing symptoms during the past few months. In true Peggy fashion, I've been doing my best both to ignore and to make excuses for the little body flips I've been feeling.

Perhaps the most obvious and annoying symptom of the growing growths lies in my inability to sleep. I am exhausted by the time the sun sets. Not only do I have a difficult time falling asleep, but staying asleep throughout the night has become impossible.

Each morning around 3 AM, seemingly by clockwork, I wake up with a sense of overwhelming foreboding. It isn't a full blown panic attack, but it is certainly enough to keep me from sleeping. I've spent countless hours trying to figure out the source of my anxiety. The results of my MRI scan provided some much needed clarity.

Anxiety and insomnia are two of the hallmark symptoms of pituitary tumors. It is reassuring to know that the source of my midnight anxiety is organic. Having something definitive to blame certainly makes the lack of sleep less frustrating, but it has not helped alleviate the issue.

I'm hoping that changing my medication or adjusting the dosage will help. If I am expected to live with these growths, I need to figure out a way to better manage the symptoms. I'm tired of waking up nervous and fretting through the wee hours of the morning!

Pink!

According to Robby's classroom calendar, last Friday was declared a "pink out." All of the little girls were delighted for the excuse to don bubble gum pink from head to toe. However, my little boy was not nearly as delighted!

Robby began lamenting the pink directive as soon as he learned about it. He voiced his displeasure numerous times, reminding me that he is a boy and that his favorite color is yellow, not pink. We quickly realized that we needed to provide an explanation for such a strange clothing request.

Trying to explain breast cancer to a little boy is an awkward conversation. We didn't want to scare Robby, but since the pink ribbon seems to be omnipresent, we decided it was best to educate him about the cause. 

Scott and I spent the time after dinner on Thursday discussing and rehearsing our breast cancer speech. When we both felt comfortable, or as at ease as we were ever going to be, we called Robby into the living room. We sat him down and told him that we wanted to explain why he needed to wear pink to school.

Pink, we explained, is a color to show support for Mommies and Daddies who are dealing with breast cancer. Breast cancer is a terrible disease that can make a lady very sick and sometimes she dies. Pink is worn during October to show support and to raise money for all of these Mommies and friends who are fighting breast cancer. Tomorrow he needs to put a dollar into the pink box at school to help pay the scientists trying to find a cure and to show support.

Halfway through our rehearsed speech, Robby interrupted. "Momom, I have a question and my question is this. Is a breast the same as a booby?" Scott chimed in and responded, "Yes, Robby, but you shouldn't call them boobies at school." Robby questioned why, and Scott and the conversation went off track. Somehow we started out with a discussion about a serious disease and it ended up a debate about breast vs. booby. So much for our serious discussion!

After about 15 minutes of hearing Scott and Robby's boobie banter, I tried to bring the conversation back on topic. Robby continued to complain about wearing pink, this time employing logic. "Momom, why can't I just put a dollar in the box to pay the scientists? Won't the dollar do more to help than my wearing stupid stupid pink? Nobody is going to get healed because I am wearing a girl color!" 

Although he had a point, the color was being worn by everybody in his school, and he needed to participate. He begrudgingly agreed to wear the pink shirt he wore when I ran in the breast cancer fundraiser a few years ago with the caveat that it could be removed after his first recess. I am so glad that the pink out only occurs once a year because the battle of the clothes was not worth it!

Growing Pains

Robby is flourishing in school. Each day I pick him up and he proudly shows me the new words that have been added to his vocabulary ring. I am amazed at how much he has learned in just six weeks!

It has taken awhile and more than a few growing pains, but we are both acclimating to our new schedule. I still miss him while he's away, but I have to admit that the hours between dropping him off and when I pick him up pass quickly. It's been nice being able to work in a quiet house. I get so much more accomplished when I'm not constantly interrupted for a snack, a cartoon or to play Legos. 

Slowly the morning "I don't want to go to school" dramatics have faded. It took me several weeks to realize that the treats I was making to surprise him when he got home from school were causing much of his angst. Robby loves baking me with me. Instead of seeing cookies and cupcakes on the counter as a special treat, he was seeing that I was baking and having fun without him. As soon as I promised that I do nothing fun while he is at school and explained that all I do is work, the going to school hysterics evaporated.

In fact, he is adjusting so well to school that I am having trouble transitioning to the emerging "big boy" mentality. Yesterday, when I dropped him off in his classroom, Robby pulled away when I tried to kiss him goodbye. Instead of our usual embrace, he pulled me into the corner and asked me to not kiss him in front of his friends.

I'm not too proud to admit that his request left me feeling deflated. I drove home and fought back tears as I tried to grasp that my little boy is growing up. I realize that it is normal and expected that he will separate from me. That being said, I don't have to be happy about it!

Amputee Caste System

Sometimes I find it difficult to define the "amputee culture." Losing my limb not only resulted in my using a prosthetic, but also included membership into an amazing club. It didn't take long for me to realize that I was now among a group of  strong, supportive and slightly persnickety survivors.

Amputees have their own lingo. Only an amputee can casually complain that "my darn leg broke again" without setting off alarms about impending emergency room visits. Referring to a prosthetic fit as a "bad leg day" requires no further explanation, and we all know the sudden onset of vulnerability that occurs when we cannot wear our devices.

Eavesdropping on a group of amputees, you will hear jokes about limps and limbs. To make it clear, and to answer an often awkward question to broach, it is okay for us to make light of the disability but not for others to do so. Only a fellow amputee friend can refer to my gait as a "gimp" or "hobble." Hearing those descriptions from anybody else causes me to become defensive and angry.

The amputee culture is an odd mixture of camaraderie and hierarchy. There is a definitive, yet often unspoken, self-imposed caste system depending upon the level of amputation. Many newbies are unaware of their place within the continuum until they are summarily "put in their place" by another amputee.

I was shocked the first time my amputation was referred to as a "paper cut." On the disability ladder I am on one of the lowest rungs, slightly above those missing toes and partial fingers.  In terms of living with limb loss, missing my left foot is about as easy as it gets!

Experience has taught me never to complain about my prosthetic or amputation in the presence of a more involved amputee. Although I have my own issues, I recognize that I have it much easier than many of my amputee friends. Sometimes it is easier to smile and conform than to try to buck a caste system that seems to be so ingrained within the amputee community.

My Friend Vashni

I am exceedingly grateful to report that my cancer scans have been read, and I have been declared cancer free! With the memories of chemotherapy and radiation never far away, my heart sings every time I hear the "all clear" from my doctors. It doesn't matter how many years I've been cancer-free, I will always be haunted by the fears of a recurrence.

I don't talk much about my cancer experience primarily because it is a part of my life I wish to forget. Waiting for my test results, coupled with some distressing news about a friend, the dreaded "c" word has been making an ominous presence in our home. As I am celebrating being cancer free, my friend is currently losing her battle with the same cancer that I fought.

When Vashni was diagnosed she reached out to me and I relayed my story. I told her in blunt terms what to expect during chemotherapy and radiation. We talked about the side effects and even joked as many of my predictions came to fruition.  We were so similar that I expected her disease to respond as mine did to the treatment.  About three months after her diagnosis, it became clear that she was battling a completely different beast.

My cancer did not spread; Vashni's spread to her liver. During the past year she endured grueling chemotherapy, painful procedures and debilitating clinical trials in an attempt to beat those horrendous cells. Yesterday I learned that hospice has been called and that her parents have taken up residence in her home to be with their daughter and her husband during this time. 

The news of hospice involvement shook me to my core. I sat in my prosthetist's office and began to cry.  My heart breaks for Vashni, her family and everybody who loves her. When she learned of her diagnosis, I promised her that she would be okay. She was understandably scared, but I knew in my heart that she would beat the same disease that I beat. Now she is dying. It wasn't supposed to be this way!

Knowing that my friend is losing her battle with cancer, I feel oddly guilty about rejoicing in my being declared healthy. Her struggles have reminded me that cancer does not discriminate, and that good health can never be assumed. I owe it to everybody who has lost the battle with cancer to remain vigilant about my screenings.

In honor of Vashni and to celebrate my cancer-free status, I have decided to participate in the National Race to End Women's Cancers next month. I can't think of a better way to honor this moment than to try to raise money to eradicate this horrible disease. I will be walking/ jogging with pride, knowing that I have beaten cancer and that I am representing Vashni, somebody with an extraordinary strength and loving character.