The Gift of Bells

It feels like it's been a long time since I blogged last, but I guess it's only been a few weeks...and what a couple of weeks it's been.  I've been busy!

My son's hockey team advanced to midget semi-finals and now they are in finals for both league and provincials; and yes, I am one of those pom pom-shakin', cow bell-ringin' hockey moms whose loud voice can always be heard cheering on the team with a "Go Tigers!" ringing through the rink!  If buttons were still in fashion like they were when I played hockey, my jacket would be covered, much to my children's embarrassment (I know my mom embarrassed the heck out of me with hers).  

And then, there's my alter-ego....Dance Mom... actually it's the same super-excited, super-proud me cheering loudly at the two dance competitions my daughter has recently attended, but the cow bell stays home and I'm limited to a few hoots and loud clapping at the dance's end.  The only bell that rings is the one that the dance adjudicator rings to start each dance.  But when that bell goes, I'm on the end of my seat waiting with sheer excitement for the performance to come.  The last two competitions have been very successful and a lot of fun and I'm looking forward to the next two.

I also celebrated a milestone in my cancer treatment last week.  I received my last chemotherapy treatment.  It was an odd moment in many ways.  In some ways, I was elated.  No more toxic drugs coursing through my veins with the potential to cause heart damage, neuropathy, and extreme tiredness; no more PICC lines dangling outside of my left arm (they were removed allowing me to have a normal shower (without plastic wrap) again (it's funny how we take some of those things for granted).  I was moved by the excitement of the nurses in the chemo ward, who proudly showed me the new bell they just installed to be wrung when a patient finishes treatment.

But somehow, deep inside, there was a hesitancy....self-doubt crept up with thoughts like, "Am I really going to be done?"  "What if there are complications?"  "How do I know for sure that the cancer is gone?"   I know that these thoughts are completely normal and let's face it, there are no guarantees in life.  Like the line in the movie, The Pursuit of Happyness, there's nothing written that says we are guaranteed happiness, we are only guaranteed the pursuit of it. Bad things might happen, but that doesn't mean we should keep trying for better.

Perhaps that's where my indomitable positivity comes from.  I don't believe that any of us are guaranteed a perfect life where everything works out beautifully, but we are all given the power to keep a positive mindset and make the most out of everything that comes our way.  We can choose to worry and doubt everything..... or we can find those bell-ringing moments and make the most of them.  And whether it's hockey, dance, or the chemo ward, I say, "ring those bells, baby!".

The Gift of Patience

Patience.....the definition of this word, according to Google, is "capacity to accept or tolerate delay, trouble, or suffering without getting angry or upset".

I have to say, this is one gift that has not come easily to me. I am a get-it-done-now kind of girl. I like to get to where I'm going, do what I have to do, have a detailed timeline of how long it's going to take me, and when all that doesn't quite pan out, I don't always get angry or upset, but I want to know what the delay is, why it's happening, and what I can do to get around it or solve the issue causing the delay.  What I don't like is to wait around for things to happen, or for it to take forever for something to get done.  I don't like that a lot!

Now, you may think this post is going to move on to slam the medical system and the delays in doctor's offices or the wait for tests and procedures, but you would be wrong.  For the most part, I've been pretty happy with that.  I don't think there's a single person that I know that doesn't expect to wait at least 20 minutes to see a doctor, or at least a week or two for a test or procedure at a hospital. That's something we've all come to expect.

What I am referring to is my own inabilities due to cancer treatments.  While I am nearly through with chemotherapy now (only one treatment left to go), I still have issues with tiredness, occasional brain fuzziness, and general soreness that comes with chemo.  And because of this, I just can't do everything I used to, and THAT drives me crazy!  The fact that I have to wait for the kids to come home from school so that we can do some of the housecleaning chores of old, the fact that I have to get my husband to drive me on the 4 hour return trip for treatments, and the fact that it takes me sooooo long to do things that would only take minutes previously is frustrating!  And there goes my patience....right out the window!

But I have to say, that I am getting better with this.  I have learned that slowing down a bit is not such a bad thing.  I've also learned getting upset about things that would previously have driven me crazy, doesn't hurt anyone else but me.  I can't change the fact that it takes me almost an hour to shower and get dressed in the morning, so why get angry?  I wasn't going anywhere except to pick up the mail anyway.  I also know that it's nice to see the kids helping out as much as they do without the usual complaining.  And besides, those long road trips to the city for treatments with my husband?  It's good couple time and in the words of one of my friends who just finished her cancer treatments, she'll take date time with her husband in whatever form it comes!  Me too!

The Gift of Chaos

Growing up, my house seemed to be in a constant state of chaos.  Between issues with mental health and mood swings by members of my family, and the lack of organization and planning that other families seem to have, I was never sure what I might come home to after a day of school or after a shift at work.  It certainly created moments of anxiety, tension, and sometimes even pure hell on earth.  But it also kept you on your feet, anticipating what might be hitting the proverbial fan, and it sharpened reaction time to whatever crisis was occurring, which improved rates of coming out unscathed.

Since moving out on my own in my early 20's, life became much more complacent.  Of course minor events  arose; that's what life is all about...the old "rolling with the punches".  Whether it was journeys overseas, untimely deaths of family and friends, or tricky pregnancies, things seemed to be manageable and I felt in control of my reactions, my emotions, and my ability to have some say in what my role was in the event.  And then cancer came a-knockin'.

I've written previously about how powerless I've felt; not only with the diagnosis, but also with the treatment regime.  Perhaps I have allowed that to happen...feeling overwhelmed can render a person into a helpless victim role, and I have fought hard to stay on the positive side of that situation.  But breast cancer and perhaps all cancers, are just so complicated.  Even with virtually the same diagnosis as another person, treatment isn't always the same since there are so many variables.

On a side note, I like to crotchet.  My daughter had asked me last year to make a series of slippers for her friends in a range of variegated colours, and after the completion of these, I amassed quite a collection of yarn balls.  After I made the decision to go on sick leave after semester one of school (I am the principal of a K-12 school and teach senior English), I also decided I would start making granny squares and use up these bits of yarn and make an afghan.  I didn't put a lot of thought into the finished product until I was nearly 120 squares into the blanket.  It was then that I realized that some yarn balls created 5 squares, some created 14 squares.  Some colours looked great together, and some clashed miserably.  Coming up with a pattern for these colours to make an aesthetically pleasing finished product was not going to be easy.

Then I had a light-bulb moment:  this was my cancer quilt.  Cancer has no rhyme or reason.  While some factors increase your chance of developing cancerous tumours or growths, it affects any age, any gender, and any lifestyle.  Cancer is random, and if this was going to be a keepsake of what I have battled for a year of my life, it needed to symbolize that randomness and the lack of organized structure.

So, I stopped worrying about finding patterns and structure within the afghan.  I just simply stuck colours together and slowly the blanket took shape.  And as I sewed each little granny square together, I realized that I was that blanket.  There are oddly shaped colours randomly pieced together to make a complete collection, much like the complexity of treatments and the random side effects to them.  And despite the chaotic nature of the colours shaped together, the finished product was complete and whole.  And I know, that once my treatments are done and the cancer journey comes to a close, I will be also be complete and whole and will do what I can to wrap others in my strength and warmth.