All I Wanted Was Some Sleep

Sleep and rest are very important to me. I can't tell you how much. But if I don't get enough my inner pit bull/space alien shows up and makes everyone unhappy.

Yesterday I was very tired by the time I got home. I am still recovering from my travels where I was definitely in the 'weeds' on sleep and rest as well as the stress of late plane flights and time zone differences. I did sleep in a bit and got caught up on stuff at home before going to the gym. By the time I got home at 330 (and reset all the clocks after a (damn) power outage), I took a shower and put on my pajamas. I was going to go to bed early. I ditched cooking dinner and promoted Chinese food delivered as a better option.

I did go to bed early. I read in bed for a bit before turning off the lights. My husband came in a few hours later and several times started muttering in his sleep about 'evacuations'. I kept replying 'there are no evacuations, go back to sleep'.

Then the cats started, actually they started as soon as I got into bed. We have two: Boots, the 'good' kitty; and Evil Kitty, the not so nice one. Boots can be needy especially since we were gone for so long. He comes and meows. He jumps on the bed. He kneads his paws into me. I walks around on me and then settles his big heavy body however he is comfortable and squishes me while he purrs.

Evil Kitty meows just like Boots, but with a slightly different tone. When Boots comes in, Evil Kitty is sure to follow. He wants attention. He had an 'unfortunate incident' before our vacation which included a 4 cm gash down to the muscle and several layers of stitches and the cone of shame for two weeks. This has made him very needy these days (but also delighted to go out and run around the yard at full speed now that he is allowed out again). He comes in and finds me so he can meow when he feels neglected.

Both cats want me to come out and play - or feed them treats or play with the stupid feather on a string or let them out (even though it was raining and dark).

When I went to bed, I thought we would be fine with the windows open and the ceiling fan on as it was supposed to cool off. That was a bad idea so at one point I got up and shut the windows and turned on the AC so I had hopes for sleeping.

Let me just say my sleep was probably interrupted a more than dozen times - once for AC, several for 'evacuations', multiple for Boots' 'Meow', and many for Evil Kitty's 'meow'. I gave up at 630 this morning and let insisted the damn cats go out. I made coffee and started blogging to rid myself of frustrations. My husband woke up and when I asked he said 'he sleep pretty well'.

I am going back to bed and leaving them all to their own devices until I am rested enough. That could be on Tuesday.

I Took A Day Off

My husband has a long weekend so yesterday we took a day off. Together to just hang out and relax. It was nice.

We drove up to the ocean. It was high tide , windy, and cold. But we walked a little on the beach. I made a big mistake and turned my back on the ocean . (NEVER turn your back on the ocean.) A wave came up behind me and I got sea water and sand in my shoes. Not a good idea. But then my husband got the bright idea to put my socks on the dashboard in the sun. And I turned on the defroster and dried my socks. And dumped the sand out of my shoes.

Then we did a little shopping, had an unhealthy late lunch with  view of the ocean and came home. We just needed a day together.

It was a nice day.

Happy Holidays!

Today my husband and I (at my husband's suggestion) are spending the day at home together. We chose to spend the time without the rest of the family because:

• We wanted to spend time together and enjoy the holiday in our new house.
• We went out to dinner with my family last night and my brother and four children are showing up Tuesday night and we are having a big family dinner here for 12.

My husband is the smart one. Its a great idea. We even went for a walk. We are enjoying the prechaos calm (think calm before the storm). 

What is a holiday supposed to be? A day where you enjoy those who are close to you and celebrate the seasons - and maybe have some good food as well. That is what we did today.

Stand by your patient

Nothing rips apart a relationship like an icky medical diagnosis. First you have to deal with your so called 'friends' who head for the hills at the first sign of anything yucky, especially the word 'cancer'. They are not your friends. Forget about them.

Then you have friends and family who obsess about your ailment and call and email constantly for the latest worst of wisdom imparted by your medical team. They often offer their 'advice' in return saying things like 'I can't understand why your doctor hasn't given you [insert the name of the treatment given to their neighbor's dog walker's cousin's hair dresser when they had a completely different diagnosis fifteen years ago]. They also want to know every time you have the least minor issue so they can be 'informed' about how you are doing. You have no idea why they need to know so much and what they are doing with all this information but feel invaded by their constant barrage of inquiries. Again, they are not really your friend either.

The people who are your friends are the ones who stop by and visit, call and just listen, and treat you like a human being, while you are trying not to lose your lunch after your latest infusion. Hang out with these people.

Finally, you have the person closest to you: your spouse/partner/best friend. Too many people find themselves suddenly single after a cancer diagnosis, in particular. I know we had our ups and downs with my breast cancer diagnosis. But I can't tell you how many friends have spoken of their spouse's lack of support, or even departure.

My husband has been wonderful. For the last three years, he has given me my weekly injections for Rheumatoid Arthritis, because I cannot deal with the idea of giving myself a shot. He accompanied me to most of my doctor appointments after my breast cancer diagnosis, where he was allowed to see everything other than my weight and any pelvic exams. He came with me to every chemo infusion where we played scrabble during the infusions (and he would delight in winning when the drugs kicked in and I could only form two letter words). He only stopped going with me when I insisted he couldn't keep missing work for weekly infusions. Now he will go with me to any medical appointment I request him to.

Unfortunately I have friends who are forced to go to difficult appointments alone or are forced to find rides for infusions or other times when they are not in shape to drive. Their partners find excuses as to why they can't help out. Or have left them completely to cope alone with bad medical news and the accompanying job loss and reduced income.

All I can say if you have a friend or partner coping with a medical disaster, don't walk away from them. If you have problems emotionally coping with their medical problems, please do not leave but try to face your concerns and become a better you. Its you who has the problem not them.

Living with in 'The Rule'

We have many not necessarily rules but guidelines and considerations by which we, my husband and I, live. There are the basics, I cook and he cleans up the kitchen. I do laundry and he carries it up and down the stairs. We are generally considerate to each other (except when we choose to annoy one another). And all sorts of other basics that help us live together peacefully for the most part.

However as my health has done its downward spiral, my husband has created 'The Rule'. It is a rule by which I am required to live. It actually has a lot of common sense built into it (so may be he is being smart here). 'The Rule' states that Caroline is not allowed to plan more than one event per day. This means I can't go to the beach and then go out to dinner the same evening. Or I can't go to a day long event and then go out in the evening. I need to plan accordingly.

The reason for creating the rule is to avoid crabbiness. For some reason, he doesn't like it when I get crabby. I just can't understand (insert smirk here).

I have come to realize that this is really about as much as I can do. I look at my calendar each month, I plan accordingly. I work three days a week and shift it around to accommodate doctor appointments and other events. I also go to the gym three days a week. If I work and then go to the gym, while technically being two events, I am okay but I really can't go out that night.

So today I am being sneaky. I met one friend for lunch about half an hour away and then another friend is coming over for dinner. this did not register with my husband as much because he didn't come with me to meet the first friend. So I am sneaking in the second event. But I am lying down now. Everything is ready but making the salad. But I am tired (don't tell him that). I will go to bed as soon as she leaves which won't be late because we have called it an early dinner.

Tomorrow work and then the gym. Tuesday work and the grocery store and to see my parents. Wednesday work and the gym. And so my week goes on. But I will heed the rule as best I can. I don't like being crabby any more than he does.

I am in a cranky mood

I don't know if cranky is the right word. I feel guilt ridden and stressed for not getting into work when I said I would. I hate not keeping my promises on when I would get things done. There was a blizzard which is a good reason but I have a huge pile of work to do and am behind. It didn't help that I was sick before Christmas as well and missed time. I need to get into work and get a lot done before I will feel better. Its frustrating.

I feel stuck inside because of the little tiny blizzard. I went to go shovel out the front walk just to get outside yesterday. I told my husband I was going to brush the snow off the cars with a broom but I also grabbed a shovel to clear the front walk. Ten minutes and my back hurt and I was back inside for the day with an ice pack.

A friend was talking about snow shoeing on Sunday. I can't really snow shoe. I tried last winter. I walked up and down our street (which has five houses total) to take pictures of the snow and that was enough. I used to be able to snow shoe.

She thought I should be able to snow shoe because I can walk. But the weight of the snow shoes on my back are very different. (She means well but is also someone who keeps asking when my back will be better.) See I am cranky. I'm complaining about my friends. I don't usually do that but I am aggravated, cranky, guilt ridden, stress filled, etc.

I feel fat because I have eaten all sorts of bad things through the holidays. Everything from big family meals with dessert to candies and chocolates and meals out. The scale is saying bad things to me. I was trying to be very good about eating before the holidays but I blew all that. I am back on Lyrica which is helping my fibromyalgia but has that lovely weight gain side effect.

Further proof of my crankiness is that I read this blog post on one week of junk food could damage your memory and left a cranky comment. (I went back and deleted the comment because I decided it was rude.) At this point in my current mood, I couldn't care less about eating healthy.

But today I am doing things differently. I am going to the gym this morning. My husband and I are going Christmas shopping this afternoon - looking for decorations on sale. We are having a healthy stir fry dinner tonight with rice noodles and chicken. Without dessert. Tomorrow we will go see The Hobbit part 2 in 3D. Quality time  with my husband always makes me feel better.

The other half of having cancer

I have touched upon this before but the other half of having cancer, or any ailment, is the impact on the patient's partner or spouse. Somehow that gets skipped. The spouse sometimes becomes the silent partner without support in a cancer journey.

I know dozens of people with cancer and other ailments - either in person or online - and each handle it differently.

Since we got married eight years ago, I have had five surgeries, numerous procedures, and other medical adventures and been diagnosed with breast cancer, rheumatoid arthritis, and fibromyalgia as well as degenerating disks, gall stones, and I can't remember everything else.

My husband comes with me on all important doctor appointments - he is allowed to see everything but a pelvic exam and the scale when it shows my weight. (The first has never been an issue and the second he is always told to turn away or close his eyes and the nurses write it down without saying a thing.)

I wanted him at the 'bad' appointments because I wanted support from him and also felt that he should be involved as they were going to have a lot of impact on our lives so he should be able to hear whats going on and ask his own questions.

Even now that my doctor appointments are not dealing with cancer treatment, I still call him immediately after every one to share any news about my health.

When he had his own cancer issues a few years ago, I went with him on all his appointments to hear what the doctor has to say and make sure his questions got answered. I needed to be involved so I could support him as best I could.

But then I have friends who go to all their cancer appointments by themselves and chose not to involve any family members in their treatment. I have friends who drove themselves to all their chemo infusions. I always needed a nap after mine and wasn't sure I could drive myself home.

I know there is a line between sucking up all their time and no one wants to go to as many doctor appointments as I have (a minimum of 50/year - really) but sometimes I think you need the support.

Studies have shown that husbands feel isolated when their wives have breast cancer - they don't get the support they need. A cancer diagnosis is not a one person adventure, it involves the patients family as well.

Doctors are happy to include spouses in medical discussions. I think a spouse who is involved will feel less isolation as they become part of the cancer journey as opposed to a bystander.

Of mice and men... and slackers

We bought our house and moved in 7 years ago, in late February 2005. The house had been empty since the previous June when the older woman who lived here, moved to assisted living. She had lived here alone for about five years after her husband passed away. She may have lived here without other people but she was not the only resident.

We had a house inspection and a pest inspection. We were told we had mice and they found one dead ant. The house came with cans of ant killer out on the porch. That should have been a sign. We have ants every summer. Very aggravating.

However we also have mice. The pest inspector told me it would cost $400 to demouse the house. I said we would try the cat first. We had no idea if he would do anything about a mouse but we decided we would let him have first dibs. In the first two weeks of moving in, one night he deposited a battered mouse on the bed as we slept. I pulled the blankets over my head and my husband disposed of the remains. (My husband asked what I would have done if he wasn't there and I said I would have slept in the other room.) We thought we had a mouse-solution. He pulled his weight and earned his kitty treats for his mouse deterrent efforts for several years.

We still have mice every year. The cat is now 17. He has had a variety of ailments which include loss of some mobility in his back legs - he can no longer leap up on the kitchen counter (which is a good thing) but he also is not as fast as he used to be. He also has lost most of his sense of smell, vision, and hearing. He doesn't care about the mice. We call him the slacker.

This week I noticed little surprises in the silverware drawer. So I washed it all, cleaned out the drawer, informed my husband. Then the next day I found more surprises in the silverware drawer. This time my husband washed all the silverware, emptied the two other drawers and put a trap in one. Yesterday morning we had a present in the trap. I thought that was it. But my husband had to put out the traps one more time. He did not tell me he put one next to the pots and pans in the cabinet. I found it when I went to put the pots and pans away this morning. It was not empty. I said 'eek' and went back to bed until he rectified the situation. (I really did say eek.)

What did the slacker kitty do when I left him in the kitchen with one of the bottom cabinets open with a mouse in it? Nothing. No treats for him.

This is a picture of slacker kitty doing what he does best these days. The black and white cat on the top is the cat I had as a teenager who lived to be 24. And the one who caught mice and all sorts of other free range, fresh meat to supplement her diet.