Archive for December, 2012

Hitched for the Holidays

This week, I am the leading lady in a Lifetime movie plot – it would be a Hallmark Hall of Fame, but their charactersfala are a little too naive for this storyline.

Our first daughter was born just before Christmas; during those hazy midnight nursing sessions, my husband and I discovered Fa-la-la-al-Lifetime.  It beats infomercials and Public Television Membership Week hands down.  These movies play 24/7 throughout the 6 weeks before Christmas and we have seen almost every one.  There are 3 plot lines and the best ones feature actors from my teenage years (I never miss anything starring the kids from 90210).

One of my favorite story lines, and the one I am playing in this year, is the one where a beautiful single person (pretending to be undesirable) is tired of hearing their mom complain about their lack of spouse and they hire a companion for the family holiday festivities.  I don’t want to spoil the end for you, so don’t’ read on if you prefer the suspense. They fall in love with their partner-for-hire and kiss under the mistletoe.

So, as you might have guessed, my version is a little different: my blind date for the holidays is a new miracle medication meant to sooth an ailing digestive system (I already have a handsome man friend). Scorned in the past, I was not hopeful. However, the last few good days have me skipping towards the mistletoe.  On my new pancreatic enzymes, I have been eating without regret for the first time in 20 years. Cue make-over montage, I feel like dancing!

These movies (and med trials) usually have a bit of drama after that first longing-look, so I am waiting for the other Louboutin to drop. But I am hopeful, and isn’t that what this cheesy season is all about?

I hope Santa brings you and yours everything you’ve been wishing for, including a made-for-TV happily ever after.

 

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My girls are magic

My girls are magic.

I have proof by way of illustration: My pain has decided to double in the last week for no apparent reason (really must figure out who has my voodoo doll).  I came home from work a grumpy mess, extremely self-loathing and unhappy that my husband had to leave for work instantaneously.

Seeing as I’d taken all of the pain pills allowed, I self-medicated with a piece of leftover pumpkin pie – which my sweetly smiling 15-month-old ate most of, who can resist those big blues? She then insisted I sit on the floor with her to play Little People, while her big sis did her practice-spelling test at the kitchen table.  I grabbed a couple of pillows and hit the carpet.  She proceeded to pull all of the plastic animals out of the toy barn and pile them on top of me, while making the appropriate animal sounds.  Then she tried to shove every one of them in my mouth or up my nose. We were both giggling and it broke into an every-girl-for-herself tickle-slash-kiss-every-part-of-her-face fight. For 15 minutes she did what my Doctors cannot, what my meds cannot, what I cannot do myself; she made my pain disappear.

Magic.

At Least it isn’t Cancer

Friend: How is all of your health stuff going, have they figured it out yet?Red 3D Cells

Me: I explain how I am chasing another diagnosis with new tests, trying to sound positive about the potential of having my pancreas removed, or some other super-fun procedure.

Friend: Well, at least it isn’t cancer!

How does one respond to that? Yes, cancer is a monster of a disease that can ultimately kill you. No, I do not wish chemo on anyone. And, yes, the people I know who have fought or are fighting that demon are super-heroes in my eyes. I realize that this friend is trying to make me (or them-self) feel better about my completely depressing health situation; it comes from a good place. But I have no idea how to respond.

If I say, “Yes! Cancer would really suck!” we can all just move the conversation along to what we are doing for the holidays, or something equally pleasant. And that is what I usually do, because I am not a masochist and I’d like to be invited to lunch again. But this quietly denies the power of my own disease in some way, the reality of my life. If it isn’t cancer, it really can’t be that grim, right?

There isn’t any purpose in playing compare the malady. Everyone is fighting his or her own great battle. But I would be lying if I said I haven’t considered whether or not I would trade my ailment for a cancer diagnosis, you can’t help it when people unfailingly reference it. Some days I do wish I could trade my near constant nausea and pain with a definitive chemo treatment. I wish I had an illness people had heard of, had a healthy respect for, because I am weary of trying to explain it in a way that fits our world’s short attention span. I face the fact that this thing might slay me everyday. Even worse, it might just suck every last bit of marrow from my miraculous life over the next 40 years. And, ironically, it often causes the big C.

I actually have very little interest in mulling over every gory detail at lunch. I want to laugh and talk about my kids. I deeply appreciate your concerned inquiries and it really is just enough that you asked, that you recognized the darkness for a moment. Please know, that simple act is enough, you don’t have say something to make me feel better. I can see, just by looking into your eyes, that you wish it were so.

The Littlest Rabbit

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