Cancer Ever After

Musings on Infertility, Adoption, Parenthood and Cancer

10 Things That Don’t Suck About Cancer

10.) It’s an excuse to get a motorcycle! A motorcycle would go great with my new scars and tattoos, right?

9.) No more shaving! Let’s be real, ladies, we all know we stop shaving in the winter, but now I won’t have to shave in the summer.

8.) I get to try out a Brazilian–without the embarrassment of someone actually giving me the Brazilian. Who really wants someone waxing there?

7.) I may actually get to read a book. Granted, it will be with chemo dripping into me, but I can’t remember the last time I just sat down to read a book. I love to read.

6.) I don’t have to cook. My sister organized a “food chain” and I think it will take a U-Haul to bring down all of the food she solicited from friends and neighbors from my hometown.

5.) People will no longer give me shit for wanting to take a nap. I can play the cancer card. That’s right, cancer = my right to take a nap. Every. Damn. Day.

4.) I’ll get to see my family more. My extended family, that is. My mom and sisters are going to travel down regularly as I go through treatments. My children love all the family that has been coming to visit.

3.) No more itchies!!! I’ve been crazy itchy from the neck down for nine months. I wake up scratching myself bloody. They tell me this should go away.

2.) Cancer is cheaper than adoption. I actually repeat this one quite often (for example, every time I open my mail). My estimates put it at about 1/5 the cost of adoption, provided I can keep working and minimize any time on disability. The plus side is, even if I have to stop working, cancer is covered under short-term disability and leave, unlike my adoption leave time, which was unpaid. I’m pretty sure it will end up being significantly cheaper.

1.) I’ll finally meet my Weight Watchers goal weight. I mean, let’s get real. Cancer is probably the only way to hit THAT unrealistic number.

As an added bonus for my husband, he gets to be married to a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead at the same time. Behold, the power of wigs!

Who am I kidding? I’m pretty sure that just about everything is going to suck about having cancer. And that last one? Apparently, not all cancer treatments make you lose weight, and I might actually gain weight on my treatment. I feel like I’m getting ripped off.

Cancer without weight loss?

For a girl who has struggled her entire life with her weight, that’s just rubbing salt in the wound. Thanks, cancer, now fuck off.

 

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Saying it makes it real

 

Even though at this point we’ve had numerous tests and the C word has become a routine part of our vocabulary, it doesn’t feel real. I don’t feel sick.  Shouldn’t you feel horribly ill if you have something as serious as cancer?

In an attempt to make it more real, we’ve been breaking the news to friends.  I’ve been doing this almost obsessively, as if by saying it out loud, it will make the news sink in.

It hasn’t.

I’m not completely without symptoms, but they are symptoms that have been going on for so long, I don’t even think of them as symptoms.  I am itchy.  You may have just started scratching yourself, but not the occassional itchy.  Since about a month after Baby H was born, I’ve been scratching myself bloody in my sleep  and if I’m not careful in my waking hours too.

Neck. To. Toes. Itchy.

I have scars on my arms and legs from scratching myself.  I’ve visited three dermatologists, followed up with my rheumatologist, and visiting my GP hoping for an answer or a solution to this.

I also have a rash, but this is not new for me.  I’ve had rashes over large parts of my body for the better part of six years, it’s considered a symptom of my autoimmune issues that contributed to my infertility.  I just ignore it. . . well. . . unless it itches.

The other symptoms I have are items I simply explained away.  I bone deep tired. All the time.

I also have three kids under three who between them, wake up 3-4 times a night causing me to play my own version of nighttime wack-a-mole, as I run from room to room, patting their butts and comforting them back to sleep. I thought this one was self-explained.

I go to bed at 9 and wake up at 5 after sleeping in fits and starts.  Sometimes, on a good night, I get a long stretch of sleep and I realize that I wake up covered in sweat.   I just assumed I was getting hot.  Why would I assume these are night sweats and a serious symptom?

I feel good. They put me on iron to correct severe anemia caused by the cancer, so some days I feel better than I have in almost a year!

So I say the word out loud.  I tell friends, I tell family.  Hell I tell the lady sitting next to me at the lung clinic.  Perhaps, if I say it enough, the truth, the reality, of my diagnosis will sink in.

I have cancer.

 

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There’s Fire?

6 days prior to the scheduled induction

I woke up in a strange bed with the sound of familiar barking ringing in my ears. It took a moment to orient myself, but the events of the prior evening came rushing back to me. The labor that stopped. Was the baby coming today? Tomorrow? We were about two weeks from the official due date, so the false labor may or may not have been a sign of things to come.

First things first: Tim and I needed to decide our plan of action. Since today was a Friday, we decided to leave our girls with the in-laws and stay near the birth mom. My mother was still out of town and we didn’t want to chance heading home just to turn back around.

That decided, we texted our birth mother and arranged to visit. The poor girl was miserable. She was at that point of pregnancy when sleeping, walking, eating, breathing, everything was difficult and/or painful. She was ready for the baby to be out TODAY.

We were on board with that. Early isn’t ideal, but she was 38 weeks at that point, so it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Over the next three days we walked with her, bought her spicy food, and helped her swing at the park, all in the hopes that she would go into labor on her own. No dice.

5 days prior to induction

By Sunday, we’d determined that Baby H wasn’t going to come out until the induction. While we all wanted him to come on his own, it just didn’t look likely. Tim had used his meager vacation time with the girls’ illnesses and I needed to save mine for parental leave. We had to go back, even if it meant that we just turned right back around if and when labor began.

Mainly this was because we really missed our girls. We had never been away from them for this long. I physically ached being away from them and FaceTime just wasn’t cutting it. Phoebe looked miserable and confused when we FaceTimed with her and it was breaking my heart. I needed to hold my babies.

And yet, I couldn’t wait to hold all of my babies.

4 days prior to induction

The other reason I was grateful that we came back was that I had only hired my replacement at work the week before. The poor girl had mere days of somewhat distracted training on key items. I hadn’t met with the teammates that would be taking over my other responsibilities while I was on leave.

I went in to the office in the wee hours of the morning, prepped file after file, and then conducted a brutal day of client handoff meetings. I was frantic to make sure everyone know what needed to be done while I was out on leave. These extra few days would make this possible.

3 days prior to induction

I received a text: “Doctor has decided to induce a day early.” I laughed when I received the text. That was the day we had been lobbying for all along. A Wednesday induction worked a lot better with regard to getting the necessary court order to release Baby H into our custody.

I called Tim and we quickly modified our plans to get there early. We were so ready.

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Is Nanny body out there?

I totally and completely lost my shit at work today.  When I heard what our daycare had to say, I thanked them, hung up the phone, and then just burst into tears.  I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m not a pretty crier.  Nor am I a quiet one.  I tried to stay quiet as I cried uncontrollably.

Don’t worry, they were happy tears.  The last few weeks have been hell.  Evening meetings, 6 weeks of work to complete in one, getting a million little things ready for baby, and nanny interviews.  A TON of Nanny interviews.  I’ve gone through at least 30 applications, set-up interviews with 11, and even made two offers.  At yet, somehow, we still have no nanny.  Despite our best efforts, we just haven’t found that magic combo.  We even broke down and enlisted the aid of a nanny placement agency. Still no luck.

The constant interview rotation, all the phone calls to schedule, juggling nanny-finding in between work, attorney calls, paperwork, and trying to finish our adoption classes has been tough.  And I’m angry because I’m not finding enough time to just enjoy my girls before the baby gets here.  We don’t have that many days left that we can just go to the park with the four of us.  I want to make sure we all get to enjoy a few things while they are still the center of our world.  They’ll still be at the center later, but an infant will be sharing that space.

Queue the phone call.  Out of sheer desperation and frustration I asked our daycare if there was any chance they’d have an infant opening in May.  We know we can’t afford it, but when it comes to our children, can we afford to not have them in proper care? We’ve been tossing around plan B’s and plan C’s all week.  In fact, I think we might be onto plan T at this point. We could let a few of our loans default, one of us could quit our job, I could extend my leave and take some unpaid time off, we could try an in-home for the baby and keep the girls in the center or we could go into debt paying to keep them in the center.

This phone call changed everything. I was calling to confirm how much it would be to have all three in the center. I needed to know if this option even stayed on the list of possibilities.  “We have a scholarship program that you may want to apply for. I think you would have a good chance at getting one.” I thanked the director and hung up.  The answer isn’t definite, we don’t even know how much the scholarship would be for, but it may mean that it’s possible to keep the girls in the center and the baby could join them.  This would be amazing.  One of my hesitations through this process has been pulling the girls out of a place where they have blossomed.  The teaching evaluator that comes to our home is extremely impressed by their development and verbal skills as well as physical milestones. I’d like to think part of this is us, but I also know part of this is the daycare that they spend 40 hours a week at.

For me, this option is ideal.  We get the reliability we need and they stay in a place that helps them learn and grow.  We know we’re comfortable leaving an infant in their care, because we’ve already had two there. So tonight, I’ll write an essay. I’ll hope it’s a good one and I’ll wish for the best.

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Another Leap

We started this process of adopting by taking a leap of faith. Our hearts simply screamed “YES!” when we were offered the chance to adopt Baby H and we had to follow our hearts. As we leapt heart-first, we decided would worry about the practical details later.

We took another leap when we dove into the world of adoption fundraising and realized that money would be a barrier to completing this adoption. We decided that we would share our story and hope that others would want to help us complete our family; that there would be others that felt that us bringing Baby H into our hearts and homes was worth supporting.

To be honest, we thought we’d be lucky if we raised $1,000. Neither of us had ever tried to fundraise before and we lacked knowledge and skill as we blindly entered into the process. Today we are blown away to realize we’ve raised over $6,000.00. That’s enough for a car, a down payment on a house–that’s enough to cover most of the legal expenses for this adoption. An insurmountable hurdle to having a third child has melted away due to the generosity of friends, neighbors, and even strangers. We have been so blessed by those who have rallied to our cause.

There are so many people that we can’t even begin to thank them all. The unpaid editor of my blog, the friend who has done all of the graphics work and helped set up this website, the friend who helped us brainstorm fundraisers and get publicity, everyone who helped serve at the pancake feed, friends who sold our raffle tickets… the list goes on.

This process has made me more aware of the generosity that surrounds us. It’s the little things that make a big difference. During one particularly rough week, when bills were piling up, someone left a stack of coupons for Silk yogurt at Target. They were expiring soon. It was nothing for them to leave a coupon they wouldn’t use.

It made my week. It made it possible for me to treat my diary-free toddler to her favorite food on a week that we were cutting back on everything to afford this adoption. Another person donated $10 to our youcaring site and said “I know it’s not much.” But it is: that $10 means so much. The fact that you are giving me the only $10 you have to give to help support this adoption says worlds about your heart. Thank you.

I’m blown away by the parents and neighbors of coworkers that contributed to our cause after hearing our story. They don’t even know us. We know that the world is full of generous, wonderful people thanks to our fundraising. We’ve been the recipient of that generosity first-hand.

I’ve also learned that everyone has a story behind what you see every day. As we’ve opened up to others throughout this process, people have shared these struggles. I’ve heard stories of miscarriages that were never shared, secret desires to adopt or stories of adoptions that fell through. Others told of their struggles to pay for medical bills and asked how we went through this process and how much time it takes. What I’ve learned is that you never truly know what is on someone else’s plate at any given moment. We judge others by the cars they drive and the houses they live in, but give little thought to what life may have thrown at them after those purchases were made. Hopefully, I’ve learned something through this process about helping others and being more aware of their needs.

And now we leap again. We need to leap heart-first into welcoming our son into our home, hearts and arms. To do this, we will put a pause on any fundraising. Our youcaring page will stay active, but we need to focus on welcoming our son. The time draws near. We must take a leap of faith yet again. We will have faith that the costs will be less than we project, the adoption will go uncontested, that we will be able to line up a loan for any gap in what we have raised and saved. We will pray that everything goes smoothly from here on out.

We will also leap into the unknown world of having three children. That leap brings me to tears. For someone who couldn’t have any children to have a chance to end up with three, it’s a dream come true. I’d take that leap any day.

 

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