It’s September and it’s been a struggle to write. I’ve kept a journal since the 4th grade to mostly free write but these past few months I have needed journal prompts just to help inspire thoughts and maybe help put my brain in order. I read a Substack recently by a woman in midlife (Linda Cooper) that really resonated with me so I’m forcing myself to acknowledge this current stage of life and how I truly have been feeling. I do have to say that it has been increasingly difficult to stop the mind numbing daily scrolling and I 100% believe that is a HUGE contributing factor for my inability to focus on complete thoughts and just sit and lean in to what I’m feeling and why.
A few weeks ago I watched a Netflix movie called ‘Don’t Say Good Luck’ and I think I cried from about 10 minutes in, all the way to the end which by then was an all out sob. It’s a great movie that I’d recommend but prepare yourself with tissue, a lot of tissue. I think this was around the time I acknowledged that my normal melancholy personality leaned more into the sad/depressed state. I realize I’ve been in a funk awhile now. After being sick almost the whole first quarter of the year things finally settled down a little and now here we are in September. Here is the line in the Substack I just couldn’t shake…’white knuckling through life, I could lift a dumbbell off the floor but not lift the grief out of my cells. I could strengthen my muscles but could not pull the tension out from the years of bracing for the next big (or small) thing.’ The thing about life and living? There’s ALWAYS going to be a ‘thing’ so here we are.
Midlife and being in the sandwich generation is not for the faint of heart. Your kids are trying to launch into the world as fully independent adults but they still need a little help and at the same time you worry about your parents who are aging (and some dying) right before your eyes and also needing a little more help. And then, if you’re a woman, your body is changing and your hormonal changes are making you feel not quite balanced physically and emotionally; more crying, more anger, more impatience, and frankly more visceral fat added to the wrinkles and grays you’ve already been fighting for the last 5-10 years. Throw in a diagnosis, a sad kid that’s far away, a broken fridge, power outage, or even just a missing item in your DoorDash order, well, anything that changes the expectation of what was in your head of how things should be leading straight to grief. Big things=big grief, little things=annoyance, but if you’ve been white knuckling it for a while, well then, big grief.
Another line from the Substack article was this in regard to surviving and strength (paraphrased), ‘holding on, bracing ourselves for what’s next, can feel similar to strength when it is what carries us through…bracing for the next thing until eventually, the holding becomes so familiar we don’t realize we’re doing it until the dam breaks.’ Well, the dam broke when I watched that movie and I am still over here trying to repair it but life doesn’t stop and again, if you’re living and breathing, there is always a next. After my long recovery post flu I had my usual scans and they were stable back in April but I decided to consult with another oncologist at another institution because he is well known for my specific cancer and you know, as patients, we ALWAYS have to advocate for ourselves and sometimes make decisions based on our gut. Long story short, he referred me to a Physical Med and Rehab doc to look into my worsening neuropathy who told me it was from the radiation from my past and potentially could get worse as time progressed. He prescribed a medication that may or may not help that I would have to take consistently for the next two years because if I stopped I could have even worse rebound neuropathy, hmmm. What made me the most sad was the line, ‘it could continue to get worse over time’ because it’s already bad in my opinion and no, I decided not to take the med. The second thing this new oncologist did was order scans again; it had been 4 months and this was a different institution so he wanted his own baseline. Well, for the first time since being diagnosed Stage 4 in 2017, the results did not say stable. Now, the two measurable nodules were still there and stable, the ‘multiple small nodules’ were still there BUT, there were 2 new measurable (meaning bigger) nodules which were probably previously part of the ‘multiple small nodules’ part. My doc says ‘I’m not really worried about it. This is a baseline so we’ll wait and see what they look like in 6 months.’
The first maybe 5 years post Stage 4 diagnosis I held my breath between every scan, always wondering, always bracing myself for something. Eventually, with tons more stable scans, my mind and heart eased up a bit and the scanxiety happened maybe a month before, even a week before each scan as of late. What used to consume most of my brain most of my days had become the small nudge or flickering light that kept the reminder that yes there were nodules but also I’ve been stable for so long. Now, after the latest scan results, I’m back to how I was at the beginning; Are they growing? How much longer? On top of midlife, sandwich generation, aging, and menopause, I feel like I’m holding my breath for the next 6 months once again. I don’t want to normalize holding or bracing mistaking it for strength and making it so familiar that I don’t realize it. Life can feel like a giant cesspool of grief and maybe it is.
What now? Acknowledge. Ok yes, I’m freaking out. Pray. Faith has carried me. Faith=hope. Hope for me is the same as joy. Put the phone down, be present, and pay attention because today is what we have. Spend time with those you love if you can. Let the dam break and don’t wait until it’s the size of the Hoover Dam. Think kintsugi, fill those grief gaps with gold/glitter/joy moments. Life is beautiful and brutal, not alternating, simultaneous.
Inhale. Exhale. Live
Today I wear Rouge Coco Chanel satin lipstick in Mademoiselle 104. It’s a beautiful neutral pinky brown with a little bit of shimmer. The medium brown base with a pink shimmer looks like hope over the ‘normal’ neutral of everyday. Perfect for how I’ve been feeling. The formula is moisturizing and the feel is weightless. Cheers!
It’s week, I don’t even know anymore, of Covid quarantine. I have semi-adjusted to the daily web based calls for work, various networking calls, dog walks, exercise, cooking, etc, and of all those things, I don’t want to cook anymore…I’m bored with my cooking. I have developed a couple addictions; one to pork rinds (the ‘healthy’ keto kind from Whole Foods), and I can’t get enough of a cleaning instagram account called @gocleanco. It’s seriously a before and after gold mine of house cleaning. No, I haven’t deep cleaned my house from top to bottom nor have the desire to, but I love watching the cleaning stories on this account and I did buy powder Tide for the first time ever (if you watch, you know). It’s weird.
Starting week 6 of our quarantine but who’s counting and how is everyone? I have to say, I have run through the gamut of emotions. The first week or so I was just busy; busy preparing the house for all of the kids to be back (the older 3 are in college and 1 was studying abroad), getting groceries, preparing the home office to transition to 100% work from home for both me and my husband, etc. The second week was still busy but I felt a little more anxious and maybe depressed. Week 3 was when my anxiety peaked and I think it’s when I cried the most, not to mention I think it may have been the week when all the kids started really getting stir crazy. Remember, they are all older teens and young adults and are all used to their independence so being stuck with all their cars in the driveway is a little crazy. Yes, we have lots of cars in the driveway and street so it looks like we’re having a party…trust me, it’s no party in here.
going to grad school to become a Doctor in Physical Therapy. Here’s the clincher, he was going to start grad school in the fall but recently got accepted to another school he’d rather go to which starts in May…MAY. They have redesigned their first semester to have it all online, then he moves for in person classes for the fall semester (hopefully). It’s a lot all at once. I’m not sad that he’s grown up and moving to another state far away for grad school, I’m grieving the fact that I have Stage 4 cancer and I want to soak in every single moment and my first born child graduating college is a ceremony I just wanted to see, cry, and soak in. Yes, it’s about me, but it’s about him too because I know how hard he has worked to do well and finish an undergrad science degree in the honors college in 4 years. Sigh. This Friday, the university president will have a Facebook live commencement event; thank you social media, he graduates via Facebook.
time he (and I) left the hospital, it was fall. We lost summer. Now with Covid, by the time it’s over, it will probably be summer, so we lost spring too. Here’s the deal, IT’S A BLIP IN TIME and with Stage 4 cancer, I love and LIVE for ALL blips in time and having time in general, by trying to be grateful always, and trying to always find the magic. I emphasize ‘trying’ because it can be really hard sometimes. This is just a blip in time to be a little less selfish and a little more self-less for people like me, or your parents/grandparents, or even for a complete stranger. ‘No one should seek their own good, but the good of others.’~1Cor 10:24
amazing doctors, nurses, and support staff. About 4 years ago one of my original doctors that helped navigate my cancer journey retired and I cried my eyes out. He was the one who called me with the news that my cancer had returned the 2nd and 3rd time. He researched new therapies and called different surgeons and oncologists; this busy doctor made me feel like I was his only patient for the 6 years that I saw him. I love all of the people that cared/care for me. What a difficult job they have trying to comfort and encourage patients, while also doing their jobs and what’s medically necessary. The impact that caregivers have on our lives is pretty astounding. Having cancer comes with baggage; fear, sadness, uncertainty~ it’s a dark time and medical staff play an important part. No matter what is happening in their lives they are tasked to care and love hard. Dr. M and Dr. D, my prayers are with you and I love you both hard.
part time getting all A’s. He still gets a little tired writing but that is coming along. Here’s my mom struggle…before the stroke he was a normal teen boy doing the push and pull; the pushing of my nerves while trying to pull away into his own adulthood. I get it, I’ve had to let go of my other two and that’s how it goes. After the stroke, he became my baby again. It was an incredibly difficult time and sometimes when I close my eyes I can still see him lying in that bed in the ICU and it makes me cry. There are things I can’t even talk about without choking up including the last night we spent at the hospital together, praying, crying, and talking about all that had transpired, before 
being discharged to come home. Now that he’s about 95% back to being a normal teen boy, there’s that push and pull again, and I have to relearn it. As one radio DJ said, it’s like a hard break up. For me it’s like breaking up, getting back together, then going through an even harder break up again. Makes me sad but I know it’s necessary. Motherhood is hard and time flies. Besides Alex, my oldest is graduating college in a few months and planning grad school farther away, and Audrey is studying overseas this whole semester. It’s a mixed bag of sadness and joy.
Anna's Lipstick Journey 