loss

I've been prepping for camp and then trying to re-adjust to society since I escaped, so I just now read my friend J's post about how she processed the loss of her baby. I've never experienced her loss, so I won't pretend to understand. It's not loss, it's death. Saying with nice words doesn't make it easier. My Mom whispers things like "She's got cancer" "Her husband had an affair" as if whispering makes it less true. I'm sorry J sometimes felt alone. I remember sitting in the airport waiting to fly home for my Dad's funeral wanting to slap the faces of the happy people all around me going on vacation, taking a business trip, whatever. I couldn't understand how they could go about like everytihng was normal. I wanted to scream "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? MY FATHER IS DEAD!"
The pain of losing my Dad doesn't compare to losing a child, but people still say the most assinine things thinking they're helping. That much I can understand. That may be the single good thing that came from my father's death - the realization it is so much better to just say "I'm so sorry" and then just SHUT UP. Some people never learn. Or they're just flat ignorant. Like the woman at my father's funeral who told my mom - "You're young. You'll find someone else in no time." WHAT? I think the worst part of the grieving process is the unforgiving timeline others assign to you. Once they're done grieving we're supposed to be done too. I've had too many friends kiss babies good bye that they never got to hold. On behalf of those of us who've never known that unique agony, let me say "We're so sorry." And now I'll shut up.

8 things

Okay, since i am inept & stil figuring out the whole blogging thing, and since I haven't linked to anyone else's blog so I'm floating out herein the nether regions alone... here's is my list of things I'm confident you lie awake wondering about concerning me.
1. I am the dorky friend that responds to the dumb "Do you remember..." & all the other fill-in-the blank surveys on MySpace & facebook. I don't know why, but I am compelled to answer.

2. I am intimidated by everyone. Everyone. Seriously. Even if it's just one thing - you're smarter, cooler, have better hair, thinner - I'll let you pick.

3. I've always wanted to live in England and open a little shop. Especially a bookstore. Maybe when we retire, it's what we'll do.

4. I really like being Canadian. I realize we're like America's attic - you forget it up there, but when you go up there, you realize there is all this really cool stuff you didn't even remember or know. I loved growing up on an island, and I sometimes miss the way of life I had growing up.

5. I don't regret giving up my career for my husband and kids. I gave up a good job opportunity at a TV station 18 years ago to follow my husband, and was a contented stay at home Mom while my girls were little. It's not the life for everyone, but it's the life I chose, and it's been good. I've had many people criticize me for setting feminism back 30 years, to which I say "Wow. I am that powerful?"

6. I'm ridiculously proud of my husband and kids, although I am also aware we are a 'typical' American family.

7. I miss my Dad every day. He was my hero. He died in February 1991, 7 months after I got married. He loved my husband, and it helps to know that, but I sill feel cheated that he never got to be a Grandpa. He would have been amazing.

8. When I was little I wanted to be an archeologist. My hubby and I plan to do one of those "vocation vacations" where you get to try another career for a week, so I'll actually get to try someday. I can't wait.

Thus concludes the brief lesson on me. Now, for a little mischief...

cancer schmancer

So it's back. Like a lame sequel to a movie you didn't really like the first time... Anyway, I've had a couple of days to process, and I'm okay. I was more diappointed than surprised to get the news - I had that "fishbone caught in my throat" feeling a few times over that past few months, and I got a glance at a report with "malignancy" stamped on it, so... disappointed, naturally. Shocked? Nah. It's so random. I think I've mentioned before, cancer is so extraordinary an event, and I live what I consisder an ordinary life. I'll never be on Oprah for some amazing deed or God forbid some Lifetime movie where I'm the victim, no - hero, wait - is there a differnce on Lifetime? I think I'm more likely to show up on an episode of Cops than anything. >: )

Anyway, cancer schmancer - my life is good. My surgeon (brilliant, personable, & quite funny) pointed out that for me this diagnosis is more an issue of 'quality of life' than 'quantity of life'. It isn't going to kill me, and HALLELUJAH! I don't have to have *@&%@*# radiation again, there's no chemo, so I really have a lot to be grateful for. My husband is, as always, amazing & supportive & good to me (that's why we marry our best friend girls - teach your children well), and I have friendships that go deeper than I realized. They offer prayer support you usually need to impose on a family member for. And though some like Ber are a million (well it may as well be - thanks freakin texas) miles away, I take huge comfort in their prayers & commemnts. Their blogs have made me laugh out loud, and have made me cry - which you know, crying is not my thing. From Ralph, to First Ammendments and toddlers praying for me - how could I not be encouraged and see the immense amount of good God can bring out of this?

header

How amazing is my new photo and artwork? A very exclusive designer out of Amarillo, Texas created it for me. It's a photo of Cape Breton - the island I grew up on, and a Celtic knot symbolizing eternal life. It was a really nice surprise. A gift, really. Thanks Ber.

hmmm....

I have my MRI & CT scans this afternoon. I'm not worried about it. I'm a little leery of the MRI becasue of the whole claustrophobia thing, but that's all. Either my faith is stronger than I thought or I am WAY more shallow than I should admit. Either way, I feel okay about the appointment. Mostly I feel very unworthy - I'm serious - not trying to be a martyr or pious & humble - because of how seriously my family & friends are taking all this. I have neices and nephews (their parents too) fasting for me today. Little kids. Elementary school children in 3 states and Canada. That is almost too much. I've never been sentimental & I am the least compassionate of my sisters. I'm more of the "okay, how do we fix this" or "what's the next step" than the "let's talk about it" or "let me hold you while you cry" person. I can do that with my kids - no problem, but with others - not so much. Maybe it's a firstborn thing. So, I am incredibly humbled by the sincere, open hearted way they are praying for me. As loud and obnoxious as I can be, I'm uncomfortable with being the center of this much attention and 'real' feeling. I'm pretty sure I'll regret this blog about 10 seconds after posting, so I guess I'd better click and let it go...