Nutty!

All of a sudden the temperatures have plummeted. After a swamp-like summer, the cool crisp air feels heaven sent. Last night we even lit our first fire in our fireplace. We are in that wonderful stage of the season where we can enjoy fires for ambiance and warmth yet aren't annoyed by the dirt and the constant hauling of wood into the house!

Despite heralding a new school year, I love autumn. Something about the changing leaves, apple pies and jumping into my pajamas right after dinner because it's already dark just makes me happy. The absence of humidity and relatively mild temperatures afford me few weather induced "bad leg days."

My only complaint about being an amputee in autumn lies with trying to navigate the nuts that, for whatever reason, are lying an inch deep on just about every surface outside. Acorns aren't much of an issue. They are typically fragile and are squished underneath my prosthetic as I walk. My neighbors are beginning to recognize the distinctive crunching sounds that follow me as I walk through the neighborhood. 

Unfortunately, our yard hosts several hickory trees. Hickory nuts are not only large (about the size of a golf ball) but also boast extremely hard shells. They are so strong that they have been known to remain intact when run over by our car. When I am unfortunate enough to step on a hickory nut with my prosthetic, I quickly look like a cartoon character slipping on a bag of marbles.

Necessity is, indeed, the mother of invention. I have convinced Robby and his friend Rowan that "harvesting" hickory nuts is a lot of fun. Each morning before school, and again in the afternoon, Robby fills buckets full of the hearty little hazards. I have to give myself a maternal pat on the back because the obstacle has been removed, and Robby was entertained at the same time!

When the nuts fully dry (in about a month) we will spend another few days whacking them with hammers. For a six year old boy, little is more fulfilling than being asked to hit something with a hammer! When the nuts are opened and the meats are removed, we'll bake our much coveted hickory nut cookies for Mr. Bill. Since we don't have plans to remove the trees, I'm pleased that I was able to devise a solution to my nut obstacles that benefits everybody!

Job Offer

After much begging, I finally agreed to take Robby to the "big boy" Halloween store. I was hesitant to take him because although he has apparently forgotten about the week of nightmares that manifested after walking into the store last year,  I remember his terror filled nights very well. Before going into the store we had a long discussion about how everything was fake. The zombies were moving because they were robots and the snakes were not real. Only after I was confident that he understood the prop value of everything he was going to see did I agree to walk inside with him.

Clutching my fingers so tightly that they became numb, Robby tentatively took his first steps into the store. He looked at every gore-inspired display and apprehensively declared, "I know that this is just a fake robot, right Momom?"  After looking through several aisles, Robby finally gathered up the courage to release my hand. (Just in the nick of time because the circulation was being cut from my fingers by his tight grasp.)

We began walking towards the more mellow section of the store, looking at the various kids' costumes. Robby has already decided upon his costume for the year, but we were searching for accessories to make it "totally epic and awesome."  Robby grabbed a make-up kit and moved towards me when he unknowingly stepped on a floor switch. A spider leaped towards us from out of nowhere. I'm not ashamed to admit that I shrieked louder than he!

Our spider theatrics caused a lot of fellow shoppers to look in our direction. At that moment I didn't really care who was looking at me. That fake spider scared the bejeebers out of me! Robby and I both looked at each other and agreed it was time to go back to Nana's house.

Trying to regain my composure, we paid for the make-up and walked towards the door. A young man (anybody under 35 is now classified as young) approached me and began to chat. He heard me scream and wanted to make sure that we were okay. I thought that was nice, considering that I had just made a fool out of myself.

Without much introduction, he offered me a job. If I accepted, I would be paid $200 under the table, so I don't lose any benefits (wink wink) with the promise of having fun. All I would have to do is "ditch the leg, bloody up the stump with some make-up and hop around screaming while trying to get away from a man wielding a chain saw." I've received a lot of offers since becoming an amputee, but acting in a haunted house certainly ranks among the strangest.

I'm not offended by the job offer. After all, I'm sure that my screaming at the top of my lungs in the middle of a store qualified as some sort of audition. However, I did have to turn the position down. I simply don't hop gracefully, and with my luck I'd land on a prop weapon which would inflict a very real injury!

Good News (and a few frustrtions)

This weekend has been a mixture of both good news and a few frustrations. The best news, of course, was delivered by Robby's pediatrician. I am so happy to report that Robby's blood results came back declaring him healthy and strong!  Although I hate that he has to be on antibiotics for a UTI, I am delighted to be able to remove diabetes from the scope of possibilities.  I know that both Scooter and I have been able to sleep better since receiving the news from his pediatrician.

After attending my first Back to School Night as a parent Friday evening, Robby and I headed up to PA to visit my Mom. I haven't seen her in a few weeks and was eager to witness the progress that she has made in her recovery.  Because we were getting a later than usual start because of the school function, I was hoping that we had avoided rush hour traffic.

It is 125 miles from my home to my Mom's driveway. Typically, with normal traffic, it takes a little over 2 hours. On Friday, leaving after rush hour had been declared over, it took me a whopping four hours to get to her house. Robby was a trooper and kept his complaining to a minimum until he finally fell asleep for the final hour. Needless to say, we didn't visit much Friday evening. I carried Robby from the car and put him into his bed. I took Tylenol to treat the traffic headache I had developed and followed him to the bedroom within minutes.

Despite the traffic and the extraordinary long drive, it was great spending time with my Mom. I marvel at her recovery especially since it is only two months since the bilateral knee replacements. She's walking without a cane now and, other than her slowed pace when walking, there are no visible signs that she is recovering from a major surgery. She is in pain, but the degree is lessening now and is dependent upon her activity level. I am so proud of her for working so hard despite the discomfort and pain!

Sunday morning Robby and I woke up and headed home. Thankfully our trip home was non-eventful and we arrived on schedule. We unpacked the car, Robby and Scooter began to play a Wii game, and I settled in to work on a report.

To my frustration my computer would not start. I plugged it in, and the charge light does not illuminate. After holding to speak with somebody in the customer care department for an hour, the representative (in her infinite wisdom) diagnosed the problem as "unknown" and recommended I send it to California for repair. When asked how long the computer would be out of my possession, I was informed that I should anticipate being without my device for 6-8 weeks.

When I scoffed at the time frame quoted, I was encouraged to take my computer to a local repair shop. Of course the warranty would not cover the repairs, but the work would be done quickly and I would have my computer back by the end of the week. Begrudgingly, I feel like I have little choice but to pay to have the work done locally. I rely upon my computer too heavily to be without it for two months!

In the meantime, I've repossessed Robby's computer which is nothing more than our antiquated laptop. Many of the keys stick because of the crumbs that have become embedded by my little guy happily chomping on chips and crackers while watching YouTube videos. The quotation key is missing because my niece inexplicably pulled it off a few months ago.  The screen is covered with smears, and the touch pad is sticky. Despite all of these issues, this old computer has one glaring benefit right now: it works!

Sometimes I really hate technology.

Bandaid of Honor

Yesterday morning I woke with every intention of taking the day easy. I had planned on changing out of my pajamas on two occasions: to drop off and to pick up Robby from school. I was feeling toxic and sore and was looking forward to a much needed day of rest and relaxation.

Of course, none of my plans materialized. I felt like the universe was saying, "We interrupt your R&R with a sick child." The only thing worse than your child being ill is having to care for them when you are sick as well!

Thankfully Robby wasn't running a fever or complaining of a sore throat which are his common ailments. This time his body decided to switch things up a bit and threw him a curve ball in the form of a urinary infection. I heard him yelp with pain when he was using the bathroom and seeing blood in his urine confirmed my instincts to take him to the pediatrician.

Apparently, providing a urine sample when you are a young boy is a wonderful experience. Granting permission to pee in a cup propelled his pediatrician to superhero status. Despite promises that he had "great aim" and against my better judgment, I let him go into the bathroom by himself. It turns out that his aim isn't nearly as precise as he promised, when he presented the sample I noticed that the bathroom looked like a garden hose went wild and soaked everything in its path.  I spent the time waiting for the preliminary results by wiping down the toilet, the floor and somehow the side of the trashcan against the opposite wall.

I was expecting a prescription for antibiotics and to be sent on our way. In addition to the antibiotic script we were given an order for blood work. My heart jumped when I the pediatrician called me into her office and told me that Robby had high levels of sugar in his urine. As a precaution she wanted to get blood work done so that we could definitively rule out diabetes. 

While I appreciate the vigilance, the fact that diabetes was introduced as something that needed to be ruled out terrifies me. I called Scott as I was driving to the blood lab. At that point, Robby was the calmest member of the family as I spent the drive trying to talk Scott out of panic mode into a more tempered response. Needless to say, I wasn't successful!

Robby was so brave getting his blood drawn. I expected him to squirm, cry and scream. I was fully prepared to hold him down Hulk Hogan style so that the blood could be taken. Instead, he simply held out his little arm and looked at me. He calmly talked about the house he built and asked me if I could buy him a new Lincoln Log set so that he could make his village bigger. Considering that he had a needle in his arm and I was prepared to restrain him, buying him a building set felt like a fair request.

After leaving the hospital we went to get his prescription filled and to pick up the Lincoln Logs I promised. He also talked me into a Lego Angry Bird set, a Halloween costume for both him and Charlie Cat, and two glittered pumpkins. Robby showed anybody who looked in his direction the bandage on his arm which, in his mind, has been transformed into a badge of courage. We even had to stop by his school on the way home so that he could show his classmates the bandage and explain that they took out some of his blood. They were all duly impressed!

I'm hoping that we receive the results of Robby's blood work today. I'm not optimistic that I'll receive the results of my tests, but it would be wonderful if I could cross Robby off my worry list for the weekend.  I'm confident that everything will be fine, but this Mom's heart will feel better when I hear it out of the mouth of a professional.  I'll post any information when it is received, so check back and wish us luck!

Mental Health Day

Please excuse the brevity of this blog. Yesterday I was poked and prodded so much that I was beginning to feel like a Thanksgiving turkey! I was left physically and emotionally drained.

Despite the repeated "indecent exposures," the tests went as well as could be expected. I survived relatively unscathed and, with the exception of my modesty, left the hospital no worse for the wear. Although I initially felt well, I began to feel both toxic and sore as the evening wore on. By the time the sun set, I was ready to crawl into bed and cry myself to sleep.

I think that I would have felt better last night had I been able to come home and relax. As Murphy's Law would have it, our neighbor's electrician mistakenly blew the transformer for the entire street leaving us without power for several hours. Although I normally would never complain about going out to dinner, the last thing I wanted to do was sit in a crowded restaurant and try to entertain Robby!

I'm tired, worn out, and on edge today. I know that the physical symptoms will pass quickly. My anxiety will  fade only when I receive the results. Hopefully they'll come soon. In the meantime, I think I'm going to just hide in bed for much of the day. I think I deserve a mental health day!

Test Anxiety

I have been trying to emotionally prepare for this date for weeks.  After dropping Robby off at school this morning, I'll be driving to the hospital for a scheduled battery of tests. For cancer survivors, the tests are considered "routine," although when you are the one being tested, it feels anything but normal!

It doesn't matter how many times I tell myself that I'm healthy because hearing it from the doctors is paramount. Until that happens, I am prepared for emotionally wrought and stress-filled days. I won't feel comfortable again until I receive the confirmation that I have no signs of cancer. I can't fathom hearing anything else, so I won't even entertain the possibility.

I detest undergoing these tests, but I also know that I am lucky to receive thorough preventative care. Although the wait is difficult, I've come to realize that there is no security in not knowing. After all, my awareness of any issues will only arm me with more tools to wage battle. Ignorance is like giving any abnormal cells (the enemy) insider information to employ against my body!

I live most of my life without giving cancer much thought. My diagnosis and treatment were part of my past and certainly impacted the way in which I view the world, but I don't define myself by those abnormal cells. Most days I draw strength from the knowledge that I'm a Survivor. Today, as I'm preparing for the tests, I am reminded of the fragility of  health. For the first time in a long time, I feel weak and vulnerable.


For now, I'm trying to focus on the positive. I feel healthy and strong. Because I am having no symptoms, I am trying to keep the tests in perspective: they are simply preventative, to provide definitive confirmation that everything is okay. A belief that everything will be okay, and perhaps a few cupcakes, will help me get through the next few days.

Lunk Alarm

Changing gyms in June was the best decision I have made in a long time. I never thought I would actually feel comfortable in a fitness facility. Apparently there is something to the "No Judgement Zone" signs adorning the walls because for the first time ever I actually feel like I belong.

Working out in public has been a huge hurdle for me to overcome. I feel self-conscious about my athletic abilities (which are minimal) and the way my rear looks in spandex (which is plentiful). However, being around other slightly pudgy people like myself, all sweating towards a common goal, I have realized that I am more the norm than an anomaly.

In fact, my gym managers go out of their way to keep the facility comfortable for the amateur athlete. They tout what is called the "Lunk Alarm," which is set off anytime a patron is excessively grunting, banging weights, or drawing undo attention to themselves. At first I thought the alarm was a gimmick until I saw the flashing blue lights and heard the wailing siren.

The reaction to the Lunk Alarm is swift and seems to be universal. Regardless of where I am in my work-out, I instinctively stop and look for the "Lunk." The rule breaker isn't hard to locate; they are usually beet red with embarrassment! After a few uncomfortable moments, the alarm stops and everybody slowly resumes their work-out. I always breath a sigh of relief, secure in the knowledge that I will never be the recipient of the Lunk alarm!

Yesterday I debated about whether or not I was going to go to the gym. My back was sore, but I also didn't want to get into the habit of procrastinating or making excuses. I was proud of myself when I changed into my yoga pants, grabbed my newly loaded Ipod and headed out to sweat. I have to admit that I was excited to give the new songs that I had downloaded for the gym their first work-out.

I hung up my keys, strapped on my Ipod and headed to my favorite spot--the circuit area. Glancing at my heart rate monitor only buoyed my enthusiasm. My new songs were helping me keep a faster rhythm. Not only was I enjoying the music, but I was turning into a fat burning machine!

In fact, I became so entranced by my work-out that my mind switched into automatic and I became lost in song and movement. I was irritated when the blasted Lunk Alarm went off and pulled me out of my work-out trance. I looked around, prepared to cast a knowing scowl at the offender.

I noticed that all of the eyes were pointed in my direction. I looked around, but I was the only one in the vicinity. They couldn't be looking at me! After all, I was in a self-imposed isolation zone, not using any heavy weights and I certainly was not grunting.

I stood still, like a deer in the headlights, until the alarm ceased and everybody went back to their work-outs. The manager approached, and I defensively asked why the alarm was set off.

"Ma'am, you were singing "I Will Survive" so loudly that we could hear you over the 20 treadmills and the facility music. We weren't going to do anything, but when you continued into a rendition of "YMCA" we had no choice but set off the alarm to get you to stop."

In that moment I wanted to crawl into a hole. I had no idea that I was singing, and the fact that I drew an audience was horrifying! So much for getting lost in the music during my work-out. I think from now on, I'll just leave my IPOD at home.