Thursday, August 30, 2007
Things One Does Not Expect to Pack for Vacation
- sitz bath
- hair
- collapsible hair stand
- spandex swim cap to cover lack of hair
- "Wet Ones" wipes
I didn't actually manage to fit the sitz bath into my suitcase, but my rear-endal issues seemed to have resolved by the time I left anyway. I was a little worried the "Wet Ones" would be confiscated at the airport, since they're wet and all, but nobody cared. Also, the airline screeners neglected to notice the saline nasal spray I did NOT have in my ziplock baggie. I had forgotten it was in my tote bag; what if I had suddenly snapped and started squirting passengers or flight attendants with saline? It could have caused an international incident.
I had a delightful vacation; every August I go to Martha's Vineyard--my college roommate Sarah gets the use of her parents' vacation house there every year around her birthday (her parents aren't wealthy; they just bought land at an opportune time) and I have informed her that I plan to continue showing up until I am specifically uninvited. Her roommate Danielle also goes every year. They went earlier in the summer, which is when all the hot weather happened. This time it was chilly enough to require extra blankets, closed windows, and some afternoons of staying in watching movies and knitting socks.
This year we were being stalked by several Democrats with presidential aspirations, including Hillary Clinton, Barak Obama, and John Edwards. All three managed to be doing fundraising at the same time on the same teensy island. We could have paid to have drinks on the lawn of an Oak Bluffs house with Barak, or we could have paid to have a conversation and cocktails with Hillary, also in Oak Bluffs. I believe John Edwards was in Edgartown, which makes sense because that's where the bulk of the lawyers are. Oak Bluffs is a little more...um, populist.
It wasn't as exciting as the time we actually saw the presidential motorcade (and Bill Clinton's elbow), but it's nice to know that the candidates care where I'm vacationing and make an effort to show up at exactly the same time.
I wore my pink spandex swim cap to the beach, but wore a beach hat over it when I went into the water because I felt a little self-conscious about having just a swim cap on. They make swim caps with attached hair, but I didn't manage to get one this year for myself. Maybe next time. The collapsible hair stand was important for washing my wigs, although it did look freakishly like there was a decapitated head in the sink, then in the bathtub when I moved it.
I hate having to draw my eyebrows on every day, but it is kind of nice to be able to wash one's hair and be doing something totally different in another room when the hair is soaking.
Now I'm back from vacation. The lull after vacation is my least favorite time. I'd rather be having fun than writing reports, fixing printer jams, and dealing with meetings, appointments, scans and such.
Labels: Danielle, hair, Martha's Vineyard, Sarah, vacation
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Fellowship of the...
Frodo: I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
Brian and I have been rewatching the Lord of the Rings movies on dvd. I haven't watched them with him before; I think the last time I saw them was some time late in 2004. I loved the films; I have both the theatrical releases and the extended versions on dvd. I have at least one of the soundtrack CDs. I have been to see "Lord of the Rings in Concert" which is performed with a slideshow of concept art from the movies. I also thoroughly embarrassed my friends Sarah and Danielle by knowing the actual poem recounting how many rings there are when we saw the display of art, props and costumes at the Museum of Science in Boston. ("Three rings for elven kings under the sky/Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone...")
Naturally, the way I see the world now is colored by experiences I didn't have then, so when Frodo and Gandalf talked about the burden of carrying the ring, I saw it quite differently and nearly wept. I actually clamped my hand over my mouth and tears streamed down my face.
I wondered if there was an analogy to be made between the burden of carrying the One Ring and with cancer. Frodo, through the course of the movies, becomes more and more worn down and exhausted. Galadriel comments at a pivotal moment in The Two Towers that Frodo is coming to understand that his quest will claim his life. I get more and more tired with each chemo treatment, and there are a limited number of chemotherapy drugs available. This disease might claim my life; it has certainly been irrevocably altered. Frodo takes pity on Gollum because he recognizes himself in the poor creature, and Gollum is the only one really understands fully how Frodo feels.
My disease differs from the One Ring in a very crucial sense: it is not self-aware. Cancer is horrible and sucks beyond all belief, but it is not inherently evil. It does not have purpose; it is a cellular aberration that medicine does not yet know how to fully deal with. I should be grateful that at least there aren't overtly malevolent forces at work; ringwraiths are not coming to kill me in my sleep.
Despite this, I occasionally get consumed by My Life as a Cancer Patient. Maybe if I let my neighbors know how tired I've been from chemotherapy, the homeowner's association will lighten up about the weeds in the front flower bed. Maybe if I have a candid discussion at work about what my level of endurance really is and how I often work from home and on weekends, people would be more understanding and less inclined to think of me as "unreliable." My assumption at the wedding a few weeks ago was that everybody was caught up in my cancer drama; maybe, like Todd and my friend Melissa have since pointed out, they're just really glad Brian didn't end up with somebody horrible and they're happy I'm a terrific person.
The other parts of the analogy work, though. Frodo assumes he is alone and tries to leave the Fellowship to go off by himself. Sam refuses to accept that as the appropriate course and clings to him. Brian has steadfastly refused to let me go on without support, and my friend Melissa reminds me that I, in fact, have a fellowship of my own. My friends and family--and even internet strangers--while not having the same experience I do, are pulling for me and that can make all the difference.
I wish my burden had never come to me, too, but all I can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to me. At least I don't have to do it alone.
Gandalf: So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
Brian and I have been rewatching the Lord of the Rings movies on dvd. I haven't watched them with him before; I think the last time I saw them was some time late in 2004. I loved the films; I have both the theatrical releases and the extended versions on dvd. I have at least one of the soundtrack CDs. I have been to see "Lord of the Rings in Concert" which is performed with a slideshow of concept art from the movies. I also thoroughly embarrassed my friends Sarah and Danielle by knowing the actual poem recounting how many rings there are when we saw the display of art, props and costumes at the Museum of Science in Boston. ("Three rings for elven kings under the sky/Seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone...")
Naturally, the way I see the world now is colored by experiences I didn't have then, so when Frodo and Gandalf talked about the burden of carrying the ring, I saw it quite differently and nearly wept. I actually clamped my hand over my mouth and tears streamed down my face.
I wondered if there was an analogy to be made between the burden of carrying the One Ring and with cancer. Frodo, through the course of the movies, becomes more and more worn down and exhausted. Galadriel comments at a pivotal moment in The Two Towers that Frodo is coming to understand that his quest will claim his life. I get more and more tired with each chemo treatment, and there are a limited number of chemotherapy drugs available. This disease might claim my life; it has certainly been irrevocably altered. Frodo takes pity on Gollum because he recognizes himself in the poor creature, and Gollum is the only one really understands fully how Frodo feels.
My disease differs from the One Ring in a very crucial sense: it is not self-aware. Cancer is horrible and sucks beyond all belief, but it is not inherently evil. It does not have purpose; it is a cellular aberration that medicine does not yet know how to fully deal with. I should be grateful that at least there aren't overtly malevolent forces at work; ringwraiths are not coming to kill me in my sleep.
Despite this, I occasionally get consumed by My Life as a Cancer Patient. Maybe if I let my neighbors know how tired I've been from chemotherapy, the homeowner's association will lighten up about the weeds in the front flower bed. Maybe if I have a candid discussion at work about what my level of endurance really is and how I often work from home and on weekends, people would be more understanding and less inclined to think of me as "unreliable." My assumption at the wedding a few weeks ago was that everybody was caught up in my cancer drama; maybe, like Todd and my friend Melissa have since pointed out, they're just really glad Brian didn't end up with somebody horrible and they're happy I'm a terrific person.
The other parts of the analogy work, though. Frodo assumes he is alone and tries to leave the Fellowship to go off by himself. Sam refuses to accept that as the appropriate course and clings to him. Brian has steadfastly refused to let me go on without support, and my friend Melissa reminds me that I, in fact, have a fellowship of my own. My friends and family--and even internet strangers--while not having the same experience I do, are pulling for me and that can make all the difference.
I wish my burden had never come to me, too, but all I can do is decide what to do with the time that is given to me. At least I don't have to do it alone.
Labels: Brian, chemo, condominium, Danielle, Sarah, Todd
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Giddyup
During our weekend at Brian's parents house in Evart, Michigan, we thought it might be neat to go horseback riding. The weather was beautiful, and I thought there might be places out in the country that would support riding stables open to the public.
Brian's dad heroically called a bunch of places, and Brian called a bunch of places. It turns out that many stables that normally would have trail riding were closed either for the holiday or because it's hunting season.
I suppose it would suck to get shot at while out riding.
When Brian and I left on Saturday, we found ourselves on the western side of the state at the Double JJ, which did indeed have openings for a trail ride at 2:00 p.m. We arrived early and wandered around the "Back Forty" which is set up like an old western town complete with jail, souvenir shop, and saloon where you can get burgers and grilled cheese and fries and what not.
We lined up to climb the stairs of the mounting platform, and the ranch employees brought forth around 20 horses for all of the people riding that day. We were instructed to take the horse over to one of the watering troughs, then line up by the gate. Brian's horse, Speckles, was very thirsty and Brian couldn't get him away from the trough (later during the ride, we opted for the slower ride that was walking only...I will not say it was specifically out of deference to Brian's lack of experience--I'm tempted to, but it's just as well I didn't try to bounce the heck out of my gimpy hips on a trotting horse). There was some debate about my horse's name. Some of the employees call her Oatmeal. Others call her Vomit. She was sort of dappled beige, cream, and brown.
I guess it depends on how you feel about oatmeal.
I enjoyed the ride very much. We saw wild turkeys and did not encounter any hunters. The Double JJ has cattle drives where they actually teach you how to herd cattle.
This ride was important to me--back when I broke my hip, I remember emailing Sarah (Sarah and Danielle and I had talked about planning a trip to a "dude ranch" the previous summer) that I probably wouldn't be able to ride horses any more, and that the possibility of a dude ranch vacation wasn't looking good. Well, f*ck that. I can ride a horse; I don't see why I can't take any kind of vacation I want (money notwithstanding). I am very proud that I was able to get on the horse's back and that I could walk when I got off. Ok, I was a bit saddle sore, but that's normal.
Brian says he prefers his steel horse. That's fine, but I don't get to ride the steel horse by myself.
The Double JJ also has sled dogs; we spent some time feeding them doggie treats from a gumball machine bolted to a tree by their enclosure. There's an indoor water park, but we did not have bathing suits. As we ambled to the car, walking funny from the long ride, a wedding party showed up--the bridesmaids were carefully carrying their dresses and I think we saw the wedding dress arive. They (the people AND the dresses) were going to assemble in the dance hall for the ceremony. I wouldn't necessarily have wanted a western wedding, but it made me pretty happy that people were assembling to have fun and celebrate.
Brian's dad heroically called a bunch of places, and Brian called a bunch of places. It turns out that many stables that normally would have trail riding were closed either for the holiday or because it's hunting season.
I suppose it would suck to get shot at while out riding.
When Brian and I left on Saturday, we found ourselves on the western side of the state at the Double JJ, which did indeed have openings for a trail ride at 2:00 p.m. We arrived early and wandered around the "Back Forty" which is set up like an old western town complete with jail, souvenir shop, and saloon where you can get burgers and grilled cheese and fries and what not.
We lined up to climb the stairs of the mounting platform, and the ranch employees brought forth around 20 horses for all of the people riding that day. We were instructed to take the horse over to one of the watering troughs, then line up by the gate. Brian's horse, Speckles, was very thirsty and Brian couldn't get him away from the trough (later during the ride, we opted for the slower ride that was walking only...I will not say it was specifically out of deference to Brian's lack of experience--I'm tempted to, but it's just as well I didn't try to bounce the heck out of my gimpy hips on a trotting horse). There was some debate about my horse's name. Some of the employees call her Oatmeal. Others call her Vomit. She was sort of dappled beige, cream, and brown.
I guess it depends on how you feel about oatmeal.
I enjoyed the ride very much. We saw wild turkeys and did not encounter any hunters. The Double JJ has cattle drives where they actually teach you how to herd cattle.
This ride was important to me--back when I broke my hip, I remember emailing Sarah (Sarah and Danielle and I had talked about planning a trip to a "dude ranch" the previous summer) that I probably wouldn't be able to ride horses any more, and that the possibility of a dude ranch vacation wasn't looking good. Well, f*ck that. I can ride a horse; I don't see why I can't take any kind of vacation I want (money notwithstanding). I am very proud that I was able to get on the horse's back and that I could walk when I got off. Ok, I was a bit saddle sore, but that's normal.
Brian says he prefers his steel horse. That's fine, but I don't get to ride the steel horse by myself.
The Double JJ also has sled dogs; we spent some time feeding them doggie treats from a gumball machine bolted to a tree by their enclosure. There's an indoor water park, but we did not have bathing suits. As we ambled to the car, walking funny from the long ride, a wedding party showed up--the bridesmaids were carefully carrying their dresses and I think we saw the wedding dress arive. They (the people AND the dresses) were going to assemble in the dance hall for the ceremony. I wouldn't necessarily have wanted a western wedding, but it made me pretty happy that people were assembling to have fun and celebrate.
Labels: Brian, Danielle, Double JJ, Evart, hip, horses, Sarah, Thanksgiving, vacation, wedding
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Words Just Don't Suffice: allow me instead to say, "wheeeee!"
I am extremely tired after the goings-on yesterday. I love more people and told more people I'd never met before how glad I was to see them, and it was true.I was very happy to have help getting dressed and would like to thank the bridesmaids for being there. I think everybody looked great in their impractical dresses requiring complicated underwear, and think that anybody who agrees to such a duty deserves every amount of kudo possible. I'd like to thank Maria, particularly for marshalling people and getting everyone there in good order and for holding the bouquet at a crucial moment in the ceremony. I'd like to thank Wendy for helping me with the scary elevator; I was afraid the metal accordion-style door thing was going to crush her. I'd like to thank Melissa for being the photographer and helping to organize the group pictures. And I'd like to thank Sarah, who went on with the show despite not being able to attend the rehearsal and for being my witness (sorry I didn't tell you about this blog sooner).
I'd also like to thank the flower girl, Olivia, for doing a great job walking down the aisle, and who provided no small amount of entertainment value afterwards. I hope you like your flower-wreath headpiece.
It's Brian's job to thank the groomsmen, but I'd like to thank them too, especially my brother John, who doesn't know Brian very well but who agreed to participate. You are the best big brother anyone could ever ask for.
I'd like to thank Brian's brother Todd for delivering a very lovely, and mercifully brief ceremony, despite making me cry with the "in sickness and in health" part. If I could go back in time and change anything, I'd have stuffed a handkerchief somewhere about my person.
Thank you, Dad, for walking me down the aisle. I did not imagine I would ever have occasion to do such a thing, and am extremely grateful that you could be here to walk with me.
The table favors were perfect and included two pieces of Brian's favorite candy, Ferrero Rochet, and a small box of my favorite candy, the best candy in the world, hee hee. Brian's mom put them together, and I'd like to thank her not only for making sure they were sweet-tasting, but that they looked very sweet as well.
Finally, I'd like to thank my mom for arranging the whole event with perhaps less input from me than was helpful. I confess disinterest in invitation ink color and I am fearful of calling places for prices. Much of the planning went on while I was hospitalized, and the thought of planning tended to shoot my anxiety level to nausea-indusing heights. Through events yesterday my mom remained calm. I think what touched me most, however, is that when I got home from the rehearsal the other night, I came home and found my walker decorated with shiny irridescent fabric and beaded ribbon. It was funny and touching and kind of puts me in mind of what I must have been like in my own dress--I'm a little bit gimpy and broken, but anything can look pretty when dressed up for a wedding.
Also, the mashed potato bar and baby roast beef sandwiches at the reception were a big hit; I believe my enthusiasm regarding the food was vindicated. (Whenever I went on and got excited about the mashed potato bar that was going to be at the reception--you got your choice of regular or sweet potato with whatever fixins' you wanted--people would tell me, "uh, ok.".)
The cutting of the cake did not involve smashing pastry into any bodily orifices other than the mouth. I'm sure it was an accident that some icing fell into my extremely prominent cleavage.
Labels: anxiety, Brian, Dad, John, Junior Mints, Maria, Melissa, mom, nausea, Olivia, Sarah, Todd, walker, wedding, Wendy
