Monthly Archives: February 2017

Marty and Me

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I know I have written about my dog Marty in the past, but he is certainly worthy of another entry for so many reasons. He’s definitely my spirit animal in that he’s a true warrior dog. I mean, he was rescued from a high-kill shelter in Texas, with heart-worms, mange, and a host of other conditions. He survived all of that, found his way to NJ, and finally found me. 

I didn’t fall in love with him from day one, but there is no denying that he’s my little boy now. Amazingly, since I’ve had him (coming up on five years), we have been through many health crises together, and he has overcome every single one, most notably a collapsed trachea and the sudden onset of diabetes. 

Poor little tongue is always out now.

Most recently, on the day of my surgery, as we were rushing out of the house at 6 am, we noticed that one whole side of poor Marty’s face was swollen. Great timing! After my surgery, Bruce deposited me on the couch, ran out to get my medications, and brought Marty to the vet. This had happened in the past yet with a new vet in the practice, she was reluctant to give us any medication without seeing him. She actually wanted to admit him but Bruce insisted that this was not a good time. As it turns out, Marty had an abscess and needed an antibiotic, an anti-inflammatory, and some pain management. The swelling went down pretty quickly, but it was obvious he was uncomfortable. The vet suggested we admit him immediately to have a deep cleaning done, but of course we couldn’t do that because we were dealing with human issues. In the interim, we dealt with a lot of crying (on Marty’s part and ours) as well as frustration all around. He can’t tell us what he needs and we did nothing but try everything possible to see what he needed: taking him out, giving him meds, feeding him, moving him to all of his favorite spots to rest… and the list goes on. 

Messy eater with no teeth left!

When he finally had his dental work done, the bone in his jaw was so brittle that the vet caused a hairline fracture, which then led us to a doggie oral surgeon to take on his case. Again, our lives revolved around trying to take care of our baby boy and managing his pain. For a middle-aged couple who made a conscious decision to simplify our lives by not having any children, we were living as if we had a child. Besides taking care of Marty, we also had to make sure that Scarlet was not feeling any less loved, despite the amount of attention that Marty required. Rather than simplifying our life, it was exponentially more complicated, especially when taking into account the fact that I was recovering from surgery myself plus the MS that is a constant presence in our world. 

Sibling love. Or at least tolerance.

But the truth of the matter is that when you rescue animals like we do, particularly the ones who would not be adopted otherwise, it’s a sacrifice you make. I would not give up on my little man like others did before me, even if it temporarily turns my life into something other than what I had anticipated. Happily, he is on the mend and practically back to his old self again, and we remain grateful for the life decisions that led us to create our little family without human children. It’s a choice we made early on for many reasons, and without any regrets. It was (and has been) an exhausting time for us, and I can’t imagine how we would fare if we had taken the alternate path…the one where we follow the masses and the societal norms simply because most people do. 

Sitting right on top of his sister.

The universe clearly drew me to Marty, and there is a reason I felt he was the one to rescue even though I didn’t fall in love with him right away. Our lives are parallel, though, or so it seems. He already had medical issues when we rescued him, and there always seems to be something new to deal with for the poor guy. I, too, had my own medical concerns before he came home with me, and sometimes I feel like I keep having more added to my already well-stocked plate. If it is indeed true that Marty is my spirit animal and he has been given multiple lives in his short little life, then at least I can take comfort in the fact that I have several more to go myself!

He isn’t the prettiest one out there, but there is no denying his connection to me as a fighter.

Forces

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One of the many things that fascinates me as I journey through life, is how very quickly things can change. It can happen in a day, an hour, a minute, or even in a second. Sometimes, unfortunately, these changes can be devastating. But there are also times when these changes are joyous. There are times for grieving (not just for the death of a loved one, but for any perceived loss) and there are times for celebrating. 

One day I was anxiously awaiting results of the analysis of the tumor removed from my breast, and the next day I would be in the doctor’s office being told what my future would hold. 24 hours would make the difference between chemotherapy or no chemotherapy. I know many of my fellow breast cancer patients are very clear cut and chemo is a must. But as an MS patient, chemo would potentially be harsher for me, already constantly battling what people can’t see. More importantly, chemotherapy would preclude me from certain MS disease modifying treatments (meant to slow down progression since there is no cure) in the future. There are only a certain number of treatments out there, and even though the field has grown from the four that existed when I was first diagnosed, there are not a lot of options left for me, and chemo would limit that further. 

One day Bru and I sat discussing the possible outcomes, and the next we would be sitting with the doctor as he shared the results. We discussed at length what I would do if the test results came back borderline or at the low end of the scale for requiring chemotherapy. Together we made the decision that if either of those was the case, I would not subject myself to chemo. After all, a slight fever can exacerbate every single one of my MS symptoms all at once, so there is no telling what chemo would do to me. It wouldn’t be a pretty sight, that’s for sure. But we had to wait 24 more hours (after already waiting two weeks).

So for two weeks I walked around with a doubly uncertain future since my future with MS is already uncertain by itself, and now I was uncertain about what cancer (or the prescribed treatment) had in store for me. It was a difficult time period for me because while I do not take any days that I’m given for granted, I was kind of (secretly) wishing that the days would pass just a tad more quickly. 

Finally the day had come. And now our world was going to change in the matter of just minutes. Bruce and I sat there. We didn’t talk. We didn’t look at each other. I’m not even sure I was breathing, to be honest. Then, finally, the knock on the door as my oncologist entered the room. He had a big, shit-eating grin on his face, and gave me a thumbs up the second he walked in the door. The first words out of his mouth after he shook our hands were, “No chemo for you.” Then he admitted to having a horrible poker face, because he was practically as happy as we were. No oncologist wants to put anyone, especially someone with Multiple Sclerosis through the (sometimes) necessary evil of chemotherapy unless there is a true necessity for it. And just like that, my world had changed. 

Our dinner selfie (within a selfie) taken when we celebrated no chemo at one of our favorite places.

I still have six weeks of daily radiation ahead of me, and then ten years of endocrine therapy, but in my humble, albeit inexperienced opinion (as I have not actually started therapy yet), that’s a piece of cake compared to almost 14 years (and a lifetime ahead of me) of dealing with Multiple Sclerosis. It’s a huge commitment, which is really just more of a nuisance than anything else, but it’s nothing I can’t handle, and everyone at the cancer center is so darn nice I can’t even complain. Never once have I been made to feel that I’m just another patient walking through their doors, and from the very first day they have had a way about them that has made me feel like they really care about me and my situation. I’m sure when my six weeks are done, I will be just another patient they treated, and that’s ok because the next person that walks through those doors can feel as well cared for as I do now. 

Throughout the course of my life, I have always felt that during the most difficult of times, the universe has taken care of me. There is some cosmic force at play, and I am grateful for it. Whether it was needing a place to live and then magically meeting someone who needed a renter, a job opportunity when I was feeling desperate for a change, or even the day I finally saw Bruce, the love of my life, as more than just my buddy, Bruce. These events are just small examples of some force stronger than I can even understand that exists out there. This diagnosis and prescribed treatment plan simply reinforces that whole idea for me.

Now it’s time to schedule that haircut appointment I’ve been putting off!

 

Tripod

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For 13 years I worked with an amazing bunch of people. I was one of the “older” teachers yet a large group of us just connected. We were “friends” from day one. I felt so lucky to be a part of an awesome teaching staff who also happened to be made up of incredibly cool people. We spent countless Friday afternoons at happy hour, as well as weekend parties and summer get-togethers. Having come from a different school district, I was floored by how friendly everyone was and how openly they accepted this new (but slightly older) teacher into their social circle. Even though as high school teachers we did not all see each other much during the school day, there was a certain comfort knowing they were there, and the working environment was one of family. I never once took that for granted because I felt like I had the perfect work life. My students were such fun and coupled with my coworkers, I felt like I had found my forever home away from home, the place where I could happily spend all the rest of my teaching years, and it truly did feel like family. After putting in a few years in a different school district, typically referred to as a “suburban school with urban tendencies”, I felt like I had died gone to heaven. I fell in love with it all the second I walked through the doors of my beloved BORO. 

My beloved tripod. This was taken just after I stopped working.

Little by little as the time passed, I felt that as the “younger” teachers continued on their life plans, which included getting married and making babies, we drifted a little, but I still felt a strong connection to my BORO family. In the fall of 2006, I suffered a bad MS relapse that took me out of work for half the school year. I went out on sick leave in October and was finally cleared to return in February. I never felt more unloved, unappreciated, and disrespected. There was definitely truth in the statement “out of sight, out of mind”. I began re-thinking my future as former administrators of mine who had left the district began courting me because they wanted me as part of their team. But having earned tenure already made me seriously consider the fact that with a chronic illness such as MS, I might not be able to earn that job security elsewhere…not because I wouldn’t work for it, but because a relapse could happen at any time, and attendance is a huge factor when districts determine whether or not tenure is granted. I felt so isolated from my BORO family and I quickly realized that everyone is replaceable…on all counts. 

Going back to work after the half year on disability, I seemed to fall right back into the place I left. Happy and appreciative, and full of love for my students and coworkers. I continued this way until the fall of 2013 when my career abruptly came to an end. I started the school year not feeling strong or ready for the pressures of the job, and I lasted exactly four weeks. My whole identity, not to mention my friends of so many years, were left behind when I walked out the door on what was unknowingly my last day of school ever. And that’s also the day I learned an important lesson: there is a big difference between being friends with your coworkers and having a friendly working relationship with them. 

Luckily, I have always had my tripod… two of my coworkers who have transcended the work/friend line.  These girls have taught me so much about true friendship because even though the thing that connected us initially (our jobs) is no longer connecting us, they remain loyal, loving, and supportive friends. Ever since I stopped working, we see each other at least twice a month to catch up. They call and they text, and they know everything that goes on in my life, and vice versa. If I have a doctor’s appointment, I know they will check in on me to see what is going on, and they never make me feel like a lesser human being for being who I am. I don’t have to pretend or be fake with them, and I can cry (or laugh) freely without fear of judgement. I call us the tripod because we stand together, and without any one of us, we are not complete. I feel 100% confident in saying that each of us feels the same way, and when we go more than two weeks without assembling our tripod, we all need a fix. Our jobs brought us together but it’s the mutual respect, the love, and the importance of our friendship that has kept us in each others’ hearts in such a special way. While I know others have chosen to move on, for whatever reasons, I know that this tripod will be standing strong together for the rest of our lives. We all need a good, solid tripod to count on: to hold us up when we wobble and to lean on when we need it. It’s much easier to face the uncertainty of life with these girls by my side. At this stage in my life, I am more content with the quality of my relationships than the quantity of them, and even as I’ve been writing this entry, I have these song lyrics circling around in my head: 

Oh I’m a lucky [wo]man
To count on both hands
The ones I love
Some folks just have one
Yeah others they got none, uh huh

–Pearl Jam “Just Breathe”

Lucky indeed. 

My tripod, my girls, and the best inside out Oreo you’ll ever find. #luckygirl

Journaling

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I’ve always been a writer. I have stacks of journals from my younger years when I was very consistent with my writing. I have sporadic journals that take me through my college years and the years immediately after college. Then when I became a teacher, there was no time for being reflective about myself as I had too many tasks on my plate. Between the grading and the lesson planning and the prepping of lessons and the emotional (and physical) exhaustion from worrying about my students more than I did about myself, it just kind of slipped by the wayside. Kind of like reading for pleasure…but now I find myself in a completely different place and even though I do a ton of work on myself, both physically and mentally, I do not commit it to paper. 

Just a few of my journals from days gone by.

So while I was recovering from my recent surgery, a box arrived at my house. When I opened it, I discovered a beautiful journal. More specifically a “daily greatness yoga journal: your master plan for a beautifully conscious life.” Full disclosure here: I do sometimes spend hours of sleepless “painsomniac” time late at night shopping, and I recently had been looking at journals. This one certainly looks like something I would purchase for myself, but had I? I spent some time looking through my Amazon activity, my PayPal account, and all of my other banking only to discover that I did not purchase this journal for myself. What I came upon after being asked in a vague way if I had gotten a package that day, was that my beautiful friend Mary chose this journal for me. 

When I brought it to show her how perfect this journal is, she loved it so much that she bought one for herself. Mary and I have a unique relationship in that we laugh over silly things like we are a couple of 12 year-old kids, but we also have very deep conversations where we become self-reflective. And that’s what this journal is all about.

When Mary’s journal arrived, we got together to talk about it and how we intended to modify certain parts that are pre-printed so that it would be more beneficial for us. One of the exercises in the beginning of the journal included writing letters to ourselves about all that we hope to be and accomplish in the next year, and then we sealed those letters up to be opened next year at this time. Everyone can benefit from this kind of activity because it allows you to tap into your own (realistic and achievable) self-expectations. We both understand that goal-setting is very different for us now that neither of us is working, but that doesn’t make those goals any less important. 

My letter to myself.

The beauty of this particular journal is that it gives great prompts for starting the day and ending the day. I’m not saying that everyone should keep a journal, but starting off the day at least thinking about things like what you’re grateful for, what inspires you, and what you’d love to do that day, automatically puts you in a position of focusing on good things. Don’t they say that attitude is half the battle? Thinking positive thoughts about the upcoming day is very grounding for me. Similarly, there are prompts for the evening that guide you into thinking about what you learned about yourself (or your yoga practice), how you could have reacted differently to a situation, what made you happy that day, or what you need to let go of, just to name a few. There’s room to chart yoga, meditation, and inspiration, in addition to the usual space to air what’s on your mind and in your heart. It’s so very different than any journal I’ve ever had before, since in the past I typically used nothing more than blank notebooks, and it’s one of the most amazing gifts anyone has ever gotten me. It shows how much Mary understands me, and my need to continue evolving and growing as I travel on my journey. More importantly, she is walking (or rollating or scootering) right beside me, which is more than I could ever ask for. 

This is just a sample, but each page is unique.

Now that I have begun the journaling process again, I am reminded of just how therapeutic it can be. I realize how good it feels to put my thoughts on paper and I love that this journal is guiding me in such a positive direction, using things like yoga and meditation, to help me see things differently than if I simply used a blank notebook. This has been the perfect tool for me to really think about myself and what I hope to be and do with my life. The timing of this gift is perfect because I have always found that I journaled most during trying times, and now as I continue my battle with MS (and now breast cancer added to the mix), I am doing it in my usual making lemonade, glass half full kind of way. 

I am in love with this graphic that comes early on in the journal.

If you don’t think keeping a journal is for you, I challenge you to try it. Heck, even Bruce has started journaling! I never thought I would be into meditation, and I absolutely hated yoga at first. But all it took was just some patience and time to figure out what works for me, and my life has not been the same since. 

There is no one more generous or thoughtful than my Mary and I am grateful for her every single day of my life.

When big changes happen in life, often it is intimidating, not to mention overwhelming. I have always reminded myself that even baby steps are still steps, as long as they are moving in the right direction. I am certainly dealing with some big challenges right now, and I could easily fall into darkness rather than light. But with a tool as simple as a journal that keeps me focused on all the positive things around me, I am finding that I have not lost myself in the darkness. I look ahead eagerly at all the great changes that will inevitably come from this bump in the road, just as has always been the case. Sometimes it just takes something small (like a prompt in a beautiful journal given to me by a beautiful friend), to keep me grounded in who I am: an eternal optimist.