Saturday, December 22, 2007
Blarrrghhh! Need...Time...Machine...
Nothing else is ready, but at least there will be food when people come to visit.
Brian and I have invited some family to come and spend Christmas with us, so his parents are coming, his brother is driving up, and my mom is coming over for Christmas dinner. I need to finish making cookies (I've jettisoned the bell cookies from my menu and will probably forgo the crispy rice treats; I've made the cookie candies, but they need to be covered with fudge and I haven't made thumbprint or chocolate chip cookies yet...not like people desperately need cookies, but I LIKE them and want to do it)--I have to bake a pie, and the actual dinner will need to be prepared. I'm confident the turkey will thaw in time, although I'm pretty sure that right now it's a turkeycicle. If we have to, we can eat cereal, mixed nuts, or the chestnuts and eggnog I've asked my mom to bring over.
The problem is the other stuff. I only assembled and lit the tree today; I meant to do it earlier in the week, but I pulled a muscle in my back and have to do things in short spurts. I started physical therapy (again) this week, but it's for my hips/legs, not my back. Tension is not helping. The tree isn't even decorated with anything yet except six tassels and a tree skirt right now. I'm sure Brian would be happy to help do it, but I'm too particular. All the decoration boxes are still upstairs and need to disappear before people arrive.
Nothing is wrapped.
We also don't have quite enough seating in the living room, the guest rooms need to be cleared out (which Brian has been making a heroic effort to do), the bathrooms have to be cleaned, we desperately need to buy toilet paper and I have only a vague idea of when people are coming over.
I also volunteered to play the flute part of a flute/organ duo at my mom's church for midnight mass. Why? I haven't played at Christmas in three years because I got braces and wasn't really well enough to in any case. Why am I doing it now? I sound rusty and twisting my back into proper flute-playing position is not helping my muscular distress. I hope I don't suck in front of Brian's family.
I have a CT scan, infusion, and physical therapy the day after Christmas, but I don't have to worry about that yet. This year the holiday is going to be great. :)
Brian and I have invited some family to come and spend Christmas with us, so his parents are coming, his brother is driving up, and my mom is coming over for Christmas dinner. I need to finish making cookies (I've jettisoned the bell cookies from my menu and will probably forgo the crispy rice treats; I've made the cookie candies, but they need to be covered with fudge and I haven't made thumbprint or chocolate chip cookies yet...not like people desperately need cookies, but I LIKE them and want to do it)--I have to bake a pie, and the actual dinner will need to be prepared. I'm confident the turkey will thaw in time, although I'm pretty sure that right now it's a turkeycicle. If we have to, we can eat cereal, mixed nuts, or the chestnuts and eggnog I've asked my mom to bring over.
The problem is the other stuff. I only assembled and lit the tree today; I meant to do it earlier in the week, but I pulled a muscle in my back and have to do things in short spurts. I started physical therapy (again) this week, but it's for my hips/legs, not my back. Tension is not helping. The tree isn't even decorated with anything yet except six tassels and a tree skirt right now. I'm sure Brian would be happy to help do it, but I'm too particular. All the decoration boxes are still upstairs and need to disappear before people arrive.
Nothing is wrapped.
We also don't have quite enough seating in the living room, the guest rooms need to be cleared out (which Brian has been making a heroic effort to do), the bathrooms have to be cleaned, we desperately need to buy toilet paper and I have only a vague idea of when people are coming over.
I also volunteered to play the flute part of a flute/organ duo at my mom's church for midnight mass. Why? I haven't played at Christmas in three years because I got braces and wasn't really well enough to in any case. Why am I doing it now? I sound rusty and twisting my back into proper flute-playing position is not helping my muscular distress. I hope I don't suck in front of Brian's family.
I have a CT scan, infusion, and physical therapy the day after Christmas, but I don't have to worry about that yet. This year the holiday is going to be great. :)
Labels: Brian, chocolate, Christmas, Christmas tree, cooking, CT scan, flute, Joyce, mom, Roger, Todd
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
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
