Making Sense of the Senseless

Where did March go?

I was hoping the past several weeks were just a dream, but no luck.  My husband's brain tumor still nibbles away at our family's foundation.  We started out trying to avoid the obnoxious bastard like little kids who believe something doesn't exist if they can't see it.  But no matter how tightly we shut our eyes and wish it away, the tumor pervades our daily activities like an itch we just can't scratch.  It's hard to make sense of the senseless.

There really is no way to justify what's happening so you just begin to make jokes. Laughter truly is the best medicine and only someone going through a life-threatening illness and his or her significant other can appreciate the absurdity of the whole process.

We laugh about a lot of things, most especially those folks who think we are suddenly experts on all things medical.  I'm OK with questions like,"Where is the tumor located?" or  "About how big is it?"  Those questions are fine.  But getting into detail such as is it in the left front or rear quadrant, proximity to the neurological nerve centers or molecular genetics of the tumor is a little too much to bear.  Nonessential information for a layperson.  There's a tumor.  In the brain.  End of story.

We laugh about playing the "brain tumor" card.  Annoying telemarketers who call selling anything from the newest gadget to swampland in Florida are met with, "I'm not interested.  My husband has a brain tumor."  The silence is deafening.  My husband used to pay the cable bill and when I called the cable company to request a lower rate a bit of hemming and hawing ensued until I said, "my husband used to pay this bill but I've taken over since his brain tumor diagnosis."  I got a significantly reduced rate with even more channels than I started with.  When I forgot to send an invoice to an out-of-state customer I blamed it on the brain tumor.

We laugh about all the potential "cures" for cancer.  Take a Turmeric supplement and your disease is will all but vanish!  Mix maple syrup with baking soda and watch the cancer disappear! Shark cartilage can slow or stop cancer growth!  Listen, I'm a big proponent of a healthy lifestyle equipped with proper nutrition and occasional supplements when necessary.  But, if shark innards really cured cancer we wouldn't be having this conversation.

We can't change the course of events over the past few months.  We can't even control the outcome.  But we can try to get through each day with some dignity and amusement.  In between radiation appointments, too many prescriptions to count and a general feeling of doom, my husband and I laugh. 

When it's no use trying to make sense of the senseless we set out to crack ourselves up instead.

When Life Hands You a Brain Tumor

You know the old saying, "when life hands you lemons you make lemonade?" Sounds simple enough.  But what are you supposed to make when life hands your husband a brain tumor diagnosis?  Can someone please tell me what I'm supposed to make now?

Our world was turned upside down two weeks ago when my husband was diagnosed with an aggressive glioblastoma brain tumor.  I took him to the doctor with what we thought was a headache and some flu-like symptoms and came out with a devastating diagnosis. Hmmnnn...funny how life can change so drastically in the course of one lousy afternoon.

So, I'm no longer a volunteer addict.  In fact, I've wiped my calendar clean of any commitments other than taking care of my husband.  Yesterday I had a problem saying no to folks who needed help on various committees or projects but the universe decided to step in and has forced me to say no today.  No more waffling, no more hemming and hawing -  a simple no.

Our outlook on life has become crystal clear.  Pre-diagnosis we were just plain busy - with the applicable frustration that comes from trying to do too many things at once.  Post-diagnosis we welcome our unscheduled days and the joy that comes from running a simple errand.  It's not so much the errand we enjoy, but the quality time we get to spend together noticing everything we never noticed before.  I know it sounds so cliche but we really are stopping to smell the roses.

The boys are going about their business enjoying their semi-rock star status.  The teachers at school have been packing their lunches (with the essential added "surprise" they look forward to finding) neighbors and friends are popping over with fruit baskets and cooked dinners.  Practicing piano, while still important, has lessened in its intensity while computer time and cartoons have, unfortunately, gone up.  When I look at my boys' beautiful little faces all I can think is you don't deserve this and here, have another slice of pie.

I am a planner and I do like to control things even though I've been reminded on too many occasions that I don't control the universe.  Everything about our current situation is out of my control and it just plain stinks.  Um, thanks for the reminder.  Damn you, universe.

“The trick to forgetting the big picture is to look at everything close up.” - Chuck Palahnuik

So, what do you do when life hands you a brain tumor?  You don't make lemonade or melancholy soup or why-me casserole.  You put up your dukes, step into the ring and fight for your husband's life. I may not be able to plan or control, but I can battle with the best of 'em.  And he can and will fight, too. Instead of volunteer addicts, workaholics or over-planners we've become fighters.

And smellers-of-roses.

I Am A Volunteer Addict

Hello, my name is Kim and I'm a volunteer addict.

Every year I swear it's the year I will start saying, "no" more often.  As in , "no I can't help with your fundraiser" or "no, I'm sorry, I'm not available to work on the (insert name here) committee." I plan to say no, I practice saying no and when someone asks me to do pretty much anything I end up saying yes.  Why?  I don't know. Psychology majors feel free to pipe in here.

Last year I said yes to designing the yearbook for our elementary school. That job, by itself, would be enough to satisfy a normal person's volunteer capacity between taking and organizing pictures and planning pages. I don't keep track of how much time I spend each month on the yearbook because I'm afraid to see the numbers.  I start planning the yearbook in September and submit it in March.  Other than the classroom portrait pages that come from the school photo company, the rest of the yearbook is done by me, myself and I.

As a founding member of our school garden group, it's our mission to educate our kids about nutrition and healthy food choices. We planted a garden at the school to show the students where real food comes from, and tie gardening into the curriculum. Gardening by itself = long hours and lots of work. Add to that the countless hours spent on proposals, garden project documentation, website maintenance and general PR and I've got another monumental task on my hands. But, hey, it's about the future of our kids' health!  Of course I will help!

I decided to head our PTA Reflections contest this year because I think it's important for kids to express themselves artistically and this National PTA program offers positive recognition for students' artistic efforts.  We have a lot of talented kids at our school and some don't even know they can WIN PRIZES for their talents.  I set off on a mission this year to get more kids involved in the contest. Classroom visits, creating posters, securing judges, online submission forms, answering format questions, submitting winners to state PTA office, creating display boards for district ceremony, oh my! But, hey, it's for the Arts!  Of course I will help!

This year, I offered to work with struggling readers as a literacy tutor. I only planned to work in one classroom, once a week but another teacher who didn't get a volunteer for her class asked if I would consider helping her, too.  Of course I said yes.   A child's ability to read is directly related to his or her academic performance. If kids can't read well they can't take tests well (or do anything well for that matter) and it's a spiraling descent into a lifetime of hardship. For some kids the only time they spend reading is at school. Hey, reading is fundamental! Of course I'll help!

I've helped with the annual Teacher Appreciation Week luncheon for the past three years. A friend and I plan the menu, shop for and prepare the food and serve it in addition to other appreciation week tasks like securing donations or making baked goods for the coffee cart. Hey, it's for the teachers! Of course I'll help!

I also volunteer in my kids' classrooms twice a week. Hey, it's for my OWN kids!  Of course I'll help!

This is just school volunteering and the list above is not complete. Too many times I've said yes to things that require less time but still require time. Sometimes covering for someone who has a sick kid at home or just helping a friend/teacher in need. Add to that the rest of my responsibilities in maintaining our household and I have no time left for me. Zero. Zip. Zilch. I can't find time do the things that I want to do.  I'm overwhelmed and becoming resentful. Psychology majors feel free to pipe in here.

Admitting you have a problem is the first step in overcoming the problem. I'm admitting I'm a volunteer addict and I know I have to stop. I need to reprioritize my time. 

So, goodbye Teacher Appreciation Week - someone else can step up this year.  Sorry, PTA I can't be on the board.  Party planning is not my cup of tea all you party planners out there looking for help. 

Hello, my name is Kim and I'm a recovering volunteer addict.  I am learning to say no.  For real.

Letters To My Boys

I write letters to the boys at the end of each month to let them know about everything going on in their lives.  I've done this every month since they were born so I have exactly 117 letters for Nicholas and 93 for Christopher so far.  I print them out and put them in a page protector in a 3-ring binder.  It's an OK storage solution, but not ideal. 

When a friend of mine introduced me to Blurb I thought it would be nice to take those letters and turn them into an actual hardcover-bound book for each of the boys.  I decided to break the job into chunks so I've only done years 1-5 for Nicholas so far and I'm working on Christopher's first five years.  The letters are already written, but I have to cut and paste them from MS Word into Blurb.  Also, as is my nature, I make projects as difficult for myself as humanly possible, so I decided to add pictures to the left page in the book to correspond to the letter printed on the right side of the page.  Because my picture organizer has18,356 pictures in a ridiculous number of folders it's very time-consuming to choose which pictures to include.  I didn't keep track of how long it took for me to do Nicholas's first five years, but it was a very long time.  I finally finished and ordered his book.

Now I don't want to give it to him!  It's beautiful.  It's so fun to flip through various months and years and see what we were up to. And, this book only includes Nicholas's first five years!  Imagine what it will be like for Nicholas and Christopher both to see a three or four volume set of the history of their lives.  It's amazing. 

I'm working on Christopher's "first-five-years" book and I'm hoping to give them their books by the time their birthdays roll around in April. After I get Christopher's book done it's back to the drawing board for Nicholas's second-five-years book.  Christopher isn't old enough for volume two yet :)

I also have a secret hope for the books.  I'm hoping that after one of our many arguments about why I'm the meanest mother in the world and how my kids thinks it's my life's mission to make their lives miserable, they will storm off to their rooms and flop down on their beds.  They will open their books and start reading about all of our picnics in the park and trips to the zoo.  I hope they smile as they reminisce about all the times we went roller-skating or swimming or to the library.  I hope they laugh when they read about the first time they learned to ride a bike or jump off the swing. 

I'm sure they will cringe when they are reminded of our Magic Kingdom lunch at Cinderella's castle where I insisted they have photo-ops with the prince and princesses before they got too old to refuse.

After reading a few letters I hope their anger fades as they remember how much fun we really do have together.  I hope they stop muttering under their breath and realize I'm not so mean after all.  Every single letter is filled with wonderful memories and every single letter reminds them how much I love them and love being their mom.

My letters started as a way to fill in the gaps in their memories.  But, hopefully, the letters will serve a bigger purpose and fill in the gaps when saying "I love you" starts falling on deaf, angry ears but reading about how much I love them will live in their hearts forever.

Our Little Bigfoot Hunter

Christopher is obsessed with Bigfoot.  He conjures up plans to catch the Bigfoot he insists lives in the nearby forests.  The name Bigfoot used interchangeably with Yeti and/or Sasquatch.  It doesn't matter the Yeti's homeland is purportedly in the Himalayas or Bigfoot/Sasquatch supposedly exists in the Pacific Northwest, Christopher is convinced his nemesis lives right here in Michigan.

He's been obsessed with Bigfoot/Yeti for a couple of years now.  The first time I rode  Expedition Everest at Disney's Animal Kingdom four years ago I told the boys how I came face-to-face with the Yeti who lives on the mountain. Really, it's just a white screen onto which a black Yeti shadow is projected, but, hey, in typical Disney tradition, I told the Yeti story in a more "magical" way.  Christopher asked approximately 1, 746 questions about said Yeti for the next several weeks and told everyone within earshot including bank tellers, grocery store clerks and passers-by that his mom braved Mt. Everest and a real-life Yeti.  He couldn't get enough.

Months passed without mention of the Yeti and just when I thought the Yeti fascination had finally waned, out popped another question.

A couple of years later, Nicholas's Little League team had a season-ending picnic at a nearby park.  A bunch of boys, including Christopher, went for a walk in the woods where Christopher was convinced he saw Bigfoot tracks.  The Bigfoot/Yeti fascination was in full-force again with more track sightings and walks through other forests uncovering, according to Christopher, indisputable traces of his existence.

Fast forward two more years and the Bigfoot fascination has reached monumental proportions.  Not only is Christopher convinced of Bigfoot's existence he has hatched a plan to catch the perpetrator.

Christopher has spent the better part of this school year devising a plan with his 2nd-grade buddy of how they are going to catch this villain.  They have come up with a very detailed, meticulous strategy that includes spyglasses,  trip wire, a very large net, rope and a flat board.  Once Bigfoot is safely tied up and secured on the board, Christopher plans to go directly to the news stations with his find.  Well, first he will show his teachers and friends at the school and then he will go directly to the media.

When I talked to Christopher's teacher during parent/teacher conferences she said Christopher has hard time paying attention in class.  He stares out the window or watches the clock countdown to recess.  Well, is it any wonder?  Bigfoot is out there and he needs to be stopped!

I wasn't thrilled with some of Christopher's report card marks and his math scores leave a lot to be desired but my thoughts on how to address this with Christopher changed when he wrote his very first story about Bigfoot. 

He cut out squares of paper, stapled them along the left spine, created his title page and wrote two chapters, along with corresponding pictures, about escaping the Bigfoot who tried to capture him and his friend Johnny. His story, by Christoper J. Murray (he included his middle initial for his "author"name), used words like "Johnny shrieked" and "I raced up the stairs" to describe his scary predicament.  He put a tremendous amount of thought and effort into his story, including quotation marks around the dialogue. He would like me to take his story and pass it around at my next writer's conference. How stinkin' cute this that?!

Christopher doesn't really care about 2 + 2.  He can't be bothered learning about parallel lines. Should I scold him because he has so many red marks on his math test or should I congratulate him on his 100% spelling tests, mile-long reading log and killer stories? 

I would rather nurture his creative side.  I know he has to learn to add and subtract and multiply, and he will because he's capable.  But, I would rather listen to him describe his Bigfoot escapades and read his skillful stories.  It's fascinating.

Christopher is on the road to uncovering his true talents and potential. I'm so glad I'm along for the ride.