On the Need to Redefine the Wife Stereotype Part 2

Last night, I posted a social commentary about the wife stereotype. After he read it, my male cousin emailed me a response to my post, and with his permission, I'm going to copy and paste what he sent to me. I love his response, and I love the discussion that has been sparked. So, happy reading, from Brennan to you! :)

"I've been reading and enjoying your blog and thought I'd comment on your latest post regarding the wife stereotype. I didn't post this in the comments section as wasn't sure how much space I would have. You are free to quote me, though, if you find anything enlightening (or offensive, for that matter). This email, I hope, will serve more as an explanation than a rationalization.

As you and Sam seem to have a very open and healthy relationship, I can understand your frustration at being stereotyped as a shrew and Sam being seen as the hen-pecked husband. I think when people make these types of comments, they are really projecting their own frustrations about the perceived imbalance of power in their own relationships. In my opinion, what it all boils down to is sex, or the lack thereof. This may be an oversimplification, but it's not a coincidence that in these situations the word "whipped" is often preceded by a slang term for the female anatomy.

Now allow me to paint in some very broad strokes as I don the hat of amateur anthropologist. For century after century for ages and ages, the relationship between a husband and wife had remained mostly the same. The man has had the power, both physically and sexually. (Again, broad strokes. I'm sure there are many instances throughout history to contradict me). Conflict was often resolved with violence towards the wife, and sex was carried out with little regard for a woman's wants, desires, or sexual satisfaction. Sadly, this still remains the case in many parts of the world, but luckily most "civilized" countries have evolved and are continuing to do so. I am not arguing, however, that it doesn't still happen to our neighbors, family, friends, etc., but simply that it is far less acceptable when it does.

As women have made strides in voting equality, workplace equality, etc., they have also been able to reclaim their sexuality. No longer is sex only about procreation or a man's enjoyment. No longer must a woman simply submit as part of her wifely duties. Again, a very good thing. What is a source of frustration for many men, however, is how sex, or rather the withholding of it, is now used as a tool for conflict resolution. And this is a tactic that most men don't really have the will power to use (nor do I think it would really do us much good). Now, I'm certainly not saying that all women do this, but many do, whether they have made a conscious decision to or not. And many men avoid conflict and submit to their wives to get sex, whether doing so knowingly or subconsciously. Thus begins a cycle of anger and bitterness. Neither violence nor withholding intimacy are valid means of conflict resolution in a healthy relationship, but one of those options has become acceptable to many people even though both wreak havoc on a relationship.

So what to do to stop the stereotype of the shrewish wife? Well, men in healthy, loving, intimate relationships should probably stop making the jokes (and probably stop laughing when the jokes are told.) Sure, it's an easy punchline and gets a good laugh, but if you're in a happy relationship, then what's the point? Appreciate your wife and be grateful for what you have. Who cares what the rest of the world thinks? If women want to change this perception, however, it calls for some introspection. Wives (and husbands, too) need to examine their relationships and be aware of any inequalities that may be present, and then determine how to make their spouse feel more like a partner and less like an employee. Now, as for single folks like me, I'll continue to make all the jokes I want. Or at least until I'm married..."

On the Need to Redefine the Wife Stereotype

Okay, people, it's that time again: I have something on my mind, and it's a little political. If you've kept up with my blog posts in the past, you know that sometimes I can get a little heated about certain topics, and I am not shy about voicing my opinions in this space (or anywhere, really). So, here's what's been ticking me off lately.

I became someone's wife a little over 6 months ago. During this time, I've had a blast as Sam and I navigated life as a legally married couple. . . changing insurance information, joining our bank accounts, learning to put each others' names first on emergency contacts, always checking in with the other about financial decisions, consulting each other on medical issues, etc. We've gotten really good at all of this, and it's been a very fun ride thus far. However, it has not taken long at all for us (yes, US) to recognize the stereotype that wives have. It's as if I went from the dedicated, devoted, sexy girlfriend/fiance title to the nagging, fun-spoiling, frustrating old wife immediately after the rabbi said we could kiss each other under the chuppah. Sam has noticed this too, and the stereotype people seem to have about me (even if they don't know me) continues to resurface. I'll give you a few examples:

• Sam and I (both) made a great meal the other night. It happened to be a turkey meatloaf that a friend of ours had introduced us to. When Sam took some left-overs for lunch the next day at work, he got grief from his co-workers who ordered pizza that day. Apparently, they think I MADE him eat the meatloaf. Embarrassing for him already, because it's "meatloaf" for starters (a dish I, myself, feel is a little nerdy just because of the All-American stereotype that comes from that word in and of itself!), but the fact that he didn't waste the food and stuck to his "better eating routine" is somehow my responsibility. Sam did stand up for me and himself by stating that eating the meatloaf was his decision - not mine! It was evident from his perspective, though, that the insinuation was that I was behind the whole meatloaf-eating situation. I wouldn't mind taking the "blame" for his good eating habits and avoidance of the pizza, but I wouldn't have cared if he dumped the meatloaf for the pizza or saved it for another day. For some reason, though, his coworkers assumed I was the one "making" him eat meatloaf. I mean, who really cares?
• Earlier this evening, my brother was dropping me off at home and asked what we had planned for the night. I told him we needed to clean the house a little bit. When Sam opened the door for me, my brother yelled from the car to Sam, "Hey! Wanna go to the Mavs game tonight?" Sam looked at me, and I told him that would be fine if he wanted to go. Deciding not to take my brother up on the offer, Sam said no. I suppose my brother assumed I had told Sam not to go when Sam looked at me, so my mature brother replied to Sam with a "Wha-puuuush!" and a whip motion. Again, insinuating that Sam couldn't go do what he wanted because of me - he's "whipped."
• In making future plans for the week, Sam told someone that he could only meet for a specific time period, and that if their meeting ran longer, he'd have to leave because "he told his wife he would be home by then." I can already hear the jokes being made because of that one little comment, as if I'm sitting at home with a whip ready to beat him for not coming home the minute he said he would be home.

There are several instances where I know I've been the "blame" of some decision - the need to go home, the need to talk to "the wife" first, the need to please me - but, I feel like I'm one of the most easy-going wives out there! Sam agrees with me actually, so where does this "wife sucks" stereotype come from? For starters, let's look at the idioms in our ever-so-colorful language. Expressions and euphemisms that have to do with wives include: "ball and chain," "old lady," "battleship," "old axe." I don't know about you, but I hate those expressions. True, a husband can also be referred to as "old man," but for some reason, there seems to not be as much negative connotation with that word "husband."

Think about it. Which sounds more positive - "boyfriend" or "husband?" Which sounds more positive - "girlfriend" or "wife?" In MY opinion, we give the word "husband" more prestige - a man who has actually gathered the nerve and the money to ask a woman to be with him forever must be a pretty mature, responsible, secure man. Alternatively, "wife" has less prestige and honor - the image it seems so many people have is one of holding a man back, of constantly nagging her husband, of keeping him from eating the things he wants to eat, of always thinking rationally and not having any kind of fun. When I was "Sam's girlfriend," I was fun, exciting - not a drag or a drain. Now that I'm "Sam's wife," I'm boring, rule-bound, and serious.

According to the definition listed on the IdiomSite.com website, a "ball and chain has come to mean wife. Originating from the presumption that a man's wife has held him down, thus keeping him from doing the things he really wanted to do in life." It's interesting to me, though, considering that Sam is the one who often uses me as his excuse - he just has an easy out, now. Say a man needs to think about whether or not to buy something from a salesperson, "I'll have to check with my wife," he says. Or, say a friend wants to meet for drinks but the husband is too tired, "Oh, man, I wish I could, but my wife's waiting for me at home." Or, even if he really does want to eat better, but he's afraid of social punishment from friends and coworkers, he can just blame the wife, "Yeah, I promised my wife I'd stick to this eating plan." Honestly, I don't mind that Sam could use me as an excuse; I'm glad he'll do what HE wants to do. If I can be that for him, great . . . but, if all men went around saying these things about their wives as if we run their lives, then that's what we wives become... "balls and chains!" When will that sterotype end, then?

Maybe some wives are nagging and annoying. I'm not one of those, and I know a lot of my friends are also pretty cool wives. Just because a woman gets married doesn't mean she automatically starts to fit the stereotype that our society has for wives. Similarly, people seem to have preconceived ideas about attorneys. Sam has learned that he's going to be made fun of for eternity for being a an attorney. People have this idea about attorneys that keep surfacing for Sam: the money, the schooling, the work load, the lying, the prestige, the smarts, etc. He's noticed it's similar for me when people learn we're married . . . there's this underlying assumption that I'm the more romantic one, that I'm the needier one, that I'm the nagger, that I'm the one with all the rules, etc.

For the record, since a ring has been placed on my finger, I have not changed at all. I want people to know that just because I said, "I do," doesn't mean I became an "old lady" or a "ball and chain" or any other weird wife expression. I simply became legally married to Sam. I don't mandate what he eats, what he wears (although I'd like to!), what he spends, where he can go, who he visits, where he travels, etc. And, he doesn't oversee any of this for me. We want to share our lives together, and we want to have input on how we each spend our lives, but that doesn't mean either one of us wants to dictate how a person lives. There is mutual respect, love, admiration, and support for each other - not nagging or hounding or whipping, for goodness sake! There's sharing, discussing, and compromising - not threatening, complaining, or lie-detecting. So, for all of you wives out there, tell your husbands to help stop this negative wife stereotype. Let's redefine wife-hood - we are sexy, independent, free, supportive, nurturing individuals who have men that want to stand by us, with us, and for us!

Chemo #1

As the last few drops of chemo run through mom's port, she's feeling okay and even letting me take pictures of her! Of course, she held up her index finger in one picture to document "Chemo #1," and in the next picture, she flicked off the machines, so she's still got that "Screw Cancer" attitude and a nice sense of humor. All-in-all the morning has gone smoothly - just pretty long. We got here around 8:15 so she could see the doctor first. Meds were taken last night and again this morning before even coming here. Then, around 9:30, they called her back to start the treatments. Before the official chemo began, the nurse administered a round of steroids, Benedryl, and anti-nausea meds. Then, they started with a 15-20 minute round of Adriamycin (the "hair-loss" med, as she calls it). It's red and is given through a syringe. Then, Cytoxan, which took about an hour. Finally, a 45 minute round of Taxotere before one short round of saline. All of these drugs have miserable side-effects, but not everyone experiences them. So, we'll see how she responds to them. It's both sad and uplifting to be around all these survivors - with and without hair, with and without fingernails, with and without energy... everyone's experience is different, so there's no telling what will happen in the coming days, weeks, and months. But, today has been okay so far. I think the experience of being here with Mom today has taught me several things: not to listen to the misery of others, as each of our bodies are different - horror stories (and even positive, uplifting stories) are really not helpful; the actual distribution of the chemo is not scary - Mom slept on and off as we watched a funny movie to occupy the time and our minds; chemo is not just the actual "chemo" treatments - she still has more meds to take when we get home and in the coming days (she's one walking pharmacy!).

Tomorrow, she comes back to get a shot, and day 3 will really be a telling point, so the doctors tell us. Hair loss typically happens between days 14-17, so she's finishing up her hair products and cherishing the time she has left with a full, gorgeous head of hair. She's looking at her hair-loss as liberating, and she's motivated to have fun with her new look. She knows her hair will grow back; she's more worried about the long-term effects chemo can have on the body (heart damage, bone damage, joint pain) and the temporary possibilities of infection she can't fight off and leukemia. It's amazing to think about the risks of this drug - a drug I'm glad doctors and researchers have found but could potentially cause future harm. BUT - we are being very optimistic - and Mom's quite a trooper!

Well, the nurse is ready to wrap things up here, so gotta wrap up this post. We're about to schedule her next round of treatment - 3 weeks from now. And, as I type, Mom just asked, "Where are we going for lunch?" I just smiled back - glad that she's up for food and going somewhere!

Another Blog Site - Check It Out

Okay, yes, I'm crazy - but it's spring break so I currently have a lot of time on my hands - and Sam and I are really into a new idea we had. So, I'm inviting you all to check out our lastest JOINT blog: http://www.journeytoourroots.blogspot.com/ where we will explain to our readers a new challenge to expand our tastes for healthier foods. Enjoy following us there, too!

Happy Birthday, Grandma!

Last night, we celebrated Mom's birthday at one of our favorite Italian restaurant's, Cappuccino's. Lilly and Mara, my nieces, wanted to make up a song for their Grandma on her special day. So, although the lighting is horrible in this impromptu video (I think I hit the wrong button considering the darkness of the restaurant), you can at least enjoy the audio and love & laughter of two special girls. Happy Birthday, Mom!

Caden and me in our matching school All-Star shirts!

6 Monthiversary. . .

. . . That's right! It's been 6 months (and 2 days) since our wedding day. Half a year. It seems so fast, but it also seems so slow. There's part of me that thinks, "Wow, already 6 months!" but there's more of me that looks back and says, "It's only been 6 months?" And, don't misunderstand. This bigger part of me is not upset about the marriage or thinking anything like the time is creeping by because I'm unhappy or anything like that. In fact, I asked Sam on our actual "monthiversary" if he was as happy now as he was on our wedding day. . . to which he answered, "Much happier now, by far!" . . . not that he was sad or unhappy on our wedding day, of course, but that he is so much happier now. I agreed entirely. I feel so much happier now, but I'll come back to this point in a moment.

I think I feel that time has passed so slowly for various reasons: Sam and I have never kept track of the length of our relationship - months, years, days, etc. - until we got married. I wish I wasn't even aware of how many months we've been married, but it's so fun to celebrate each 6th of the month. We also think we both feel this way because our honeymoon is still so far away! Or, maybe it's because the wedding seemed to have crept up on us much faster than it's left us. Or, maybe it's because I miss it everyday and feel like it was much farther away than it really is! Who knows, but I wonder if other brides feel that way - that the time after the wedding moves slowly in the first year.

So, going back to how happy I am now. . . I just am so happy in my marriage! I think Sam and I have done a good job in keeping our marriage high on the priority list, if not first and foremost, during the difficult times we've shared in the past 6 months. We've been on the "same page" through it all, and it's so nice to know we have each other to talk to, to confide in, to calm each other, to retreat with. It's also nice to not have the wedding to worry about and to, instead, be planning our mutual future as we schedule our honeymoon plans, as we think about our finances, as we think about when to have kids and what we want for our family, as we dream about future homes, as we take care of the errands and daily chores.

Sam's one of my most favorite people in the world, and I love coming home to him (or more often than not, him coming home to me!). I love knowing we are just starting out and have the rest of our lives together. I love knowing no matter what, we'll get through it together. I love knowing he'll be by my side. When you look at your future job or home or anything, you never know who you'll work with, who you'll live next to, where you'll worship or grocery shop or anything - but I know no matter what the answer to those mundane questions are - Sam will be there with me to find out! How exciting that really is. I never thought about it like that until after the wedding, and it's so reassuring. So, as I look back at 6 married months - no matter how far or near it seems to the wedding - I have learned a LOT and I know I am truly and significantly happier and happier with each day! Happy 6 months, Sam!

The Plan for Mom

This morning, we went to meet Mom's oncologist for an update on her current status and to find out more about the protocol for her treatment. First of all, I loved her oncologist! He's so empathic, very informative, quite respectful, and extremely thorough. The basic report is that: we're dealing with Stage 2 breast cancer; they're still not sure which came first - the malignant cells in the breast or the malignant cells in the lymph nodes - but it matters not; she does need chemo; she most likely needs radiation on both sides. The doctor went on to say that a team of doctors studied her case to help think about what the best treatment plan was. Given the uniqueness of this case, the doctors used Mom's situation as a learning tool, which pleases me to know that many people helped determine her most aggressive and proactive plan...I just hope they know what an amazing woman they are helping and that she's not just "some lady" but a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a friend. (I have no doubt that her doctors keep this in the forefront of their minds - they are all such kind, warm-hearted, gentlemen, but it crossed my mind to think this way when her oncologist was reporting how many people thought about this "case.")

Bottom line: she'll need 6 rounds of chemo - each round 3 weeks apart and lasting about 4 hours at a time. I've learned a lot about the chemo treatments. He explained what medications make up the chemo treatments and the side effects of each med - which is a list that includes but is not limited to nausea/vomiting, hair loss, fatigue, low white blood cell counts, lung damage, leukemia, teary eyes, and heart pump damage. Luckily, with MORE medications to help prevent and "ward off" some of these side effects, the only ones they can't really control or "keep a watch on to monitor" are the hair loss and fatigue. She's expected to drink a LOT of water everyday to help stay hydrated, therefore to help with fatigue. She's also supposed to monitor her temperature to make sure she doesn't have any kind of infection.

So, after a chemo "prep class" and a standard echo-cardiogram next week (on Mom's birthday), she'll be set for starting chemo about a week & a half from today. I say she's "set" rather than "ready" or "prepared" because there's really nothing that gets you "ready" for that. She's doing a great job looking forward and trying her best to mentally prepare for what's ahead, but that's hard to do when it's such a daunting, long road. We're trying to make the most of the pretty miserable situation - looking at the bright side that at least she won't have to fuss with her hair or worry about the kids splashing her at the pool this summer since her hair won't be an issue. We'll make the most of chemo treatments - listening to music, watching movies, reading good books, or just chit-chatting away. We'll buckle down and kill what's left of this piece-of-$h#t cancer. (Amen!)

Thinking of Grandpa

My dad's father, my Grandpa, is in the hospital and not doing well. He's 91 years old, the eldest of his siblings, and my last living grandparent. Grandpa used to say that we "grew up together." I have such fond memories of him from even a very young age, and while he's in the hospital and fighting to either live or die, I want to remember those fun, funny, meaningful times of him. I've been told it's probably not a good idea to go see him as he currently is, that it will be too painful and hard to see. But, it's hard to justify not spending time with a person while he is still here on Earth, while he is in a state that he they may be able to hear me, while he is most in need of his family. So, while I struggle with what to do - to go to the hospital or not - I have spent a lot of time just thinking back on all our times together. Grandpa, these are for you:

-I remember the fun times swimming at your pool, pouring water over your bald head and patting the top of your shiny head as the water sprinkled down.
-I remember you cutting the bushes with big shears, with a white tank and shorts on.
-I remember wondering why Dad would cut the little whiskers that grew out of your bald head. I always thought that was weird since you had such little hair to begin with.
-I remember you telling me to learn how to play the piano so I could entertain a room full of guests when I was older.
-I remember you waiting for us to get out of school. You read Time magazine with the AM radio on in the car. You brought each of us our favorite chocolate candy bars before taking us to Hebrew school.
-I remember driving down any given street, you asking us to tell you where to drive. We'd say, "Turn right," and you'd pretend to turn right too soon making us laugh endlessly. You'd listen to the music and shake our right hand to "dance" to the music.
-I remember Hanukkahs, Christmases, high holidays, and Father's Days with you.
-I remember services in the choir loft watching you sing - or fall asleep during the sermons.
-I remember you singing in funny voices - either very high pitched or very low tones.
-I remember watching how you could eat the bones when eating a piece of chicken, an onion like it was an apple, or an entire jalapeno.
-I remember you teaching me about how to read the information about stocks and bonds and how to tell if my investments had paid off.
-I remember watching you with your sisters and brother and how much love I know is shared between you all and how much you miss each other.
-I remember you teaching me about your past - telling me stories of your mother and father, your upbringing and hardships, and your time spent in the war.
-I remember pool parties and birthday sleepovers at your house.
-I remember all your silly jokes that you'd heard from the rabbi or from choir friends.
-I remember how excited you were to be able to send me to Israel on my 16th birthday.
-I remember how loyal you were to Granny and then to Dora.
-I remember watching you help shovel dirt onto Grandma's coffin at her funeral. I remember how fond of her and Papa you & Granny were and how much fun you all seemed to have together - like your trip to Israel together and the holidays shared together.
-I remember the college phone calls that lasted only 30 seconds so we wouldn't get charged.
-I remember you asking about Sam and "what's new" with him and me. You were curious about him and wanting only what was best for me.
-I remember picking you up and driving you to places. You'd tell me I needed to get gas before the light goes on in the car. You'd tell me stories of places we would pass. You always ask how work is going and can't believe I am working at the same school I went to as a young girl - the same school you sat in front of at least twice a week - waiting to take us home.
-I remember taking pictures with you on my wedding day. You were a little shaky as you held my waist, so I slipped my hand behind my back and grabbed your hand through all the pictures to help you stop shaking as I told myself to remember holding your hand on that day for the rest of my life. And, to this day, I can still feel your hand in mine. I can still feel your skin and your warmth as if it's happening right now.

My list goes on and on, but one thing is certain: I remember how you helped try to keep the peace between our family. I remember your love for your family. There are things in your life that you would not have chosen for your family, for us; but, you never stopped loving ever! Thank you for loving my mother as your own daughter. Thank you for being a hard worker for your family. Thank you for all these sweet memories. I hope whatever happens in the next few days or weeks, that you are are at peace, that you know we are thinking of you, that you know we want only what is best and painless for you, and that you know you are so loved.

Trying To Keep Normalcy

So, there it is. "Oncologist" has been written in my calendar. It's staring back at me looking all funky and weird. I can't believe I'm having to write that word into my daily planner. It reads, "Oncologist with Mom" on March 5. We're going for her first appointment with the oncologist after rounds of surgery where she's been poked, prodded, sliced, scared, and pricked. . . after rounds of hope and of frustration. . . after recovery after recovery. We'll hear what the doctor, (excuse me, the oncologist), has to say at that appointment to find out where to go from here. During the last surgery, Mom's surgeon took 11 lymph nodes. Good news: only 1 of the 11 had cancer. Bad news: 1 had cancer - making the total cancer count to 2 of 12 examined lymph nodes.

We all have so many questions, I'm glad that appointment with the ONCOLOGIST has been set. There's that damn word again, huh? Sorry to any oncologists out there, but writing your job title out is just plain horrific. No one wants to have to write your name in a calendar! No one wants to know a visit to you is necessary.

Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it? We're all just trying so hard to keep normalcy. Keep going to work, keep making dinner and watching our shows, keep making plans, keep doing laundry and cleaning the house, keep doing homework and making lunches, keep planning a honeymoon and thinking about the future. It's a weird mix: keeping normal patterns of daily life in order to function and have that predictable routine but wanting to just shut down and handle one damn thing at a time. My mind is with Mom when I'm at work. My mind is on work with I'm with Mom. Always feeling like I "should" be doing something else, always worried about what's to come, always angry at the petty little things I deal with at work when there's so many other greater concerns in my head . . . these are pretty typical things that go through my mind.

Here's a glimpse into my over-anxious mind (this could either be scary or really funny): my car needs an oil change, what are we eating for dinner, I need to remember to refer that kid for testing, how many more days until spring break, what day is it and who is picking up my nephew from school, wonder what time Sam will be home from work, what can I wear to school tomorrow that won't make me dread getting out of my warm bed, how's Mom doing - is someone cooking for her tonight, does she need me to help her with anything, where should we stay when we're in London, what are we doing this weekend, wonder how's Sage doing at school, why have I not heard from my dad, I hope Grandpa's okay, we really need to rake the lawn, she had another headache, I should try to go to bed an hour earlier tonight, is this blog okay to publish, I wonder how Sam's grandma is doing today, I need to do my taxes, oy, TAKS!, wonder how Robyn's doing with another baby, when will I have a baby, do I have to go to happy hour, I just want to sleep, I miss Christmas and I'm not even Christian, I really need to jog, but it's too cold outside, did I pay that bill, mortgage is due soon, when do I get my paycheck, I hope Sam deposited his check, I can't wait for Lost to come on, I wish that damn automated voice would stop leaving messages Marcus Ward - I don't know who the heck that is, that ARD lasted WAY too long, I can't sit through one more with her, do I have enough energy to straighten my hair tonight, what will Mom look like without any hair, oncologist.

Trying my best to keep normalcy is all I can do to cope with the circumstances for myself and for Mom. I'm sure I'll look back on this year and wish none of it ever happened, but there will be more years, there will be more fun and happiness another time. I have to be grateful that the doctors caught everything, that we are in great hands, that we're all in this together. I have to remember "this too shall pass," and we will look back on this nightmare with strength and "upliftedness."In the meantime, "just keep swimming," "just do the best you can," "just keep pushing through," are my mottoes. We can't hide from this cancer or from the demands of daily life. We can't let it consume us, so I will keep worrying about it all, keep having girl-talk with Mom, keep planning the honeymoon, keep focusing on my marriage, keep going to work and trying to give it all I've got, keep doing the mundane things like laundry and grocery shopping, keep complaining about things that bug me, etc. But, I've learned to take some time for myself and try NOT to sweat the small stuff - or at least tell myself not to. Big, deep breaths are my best friends right now - as is letting Sam hold me and tell me, "You can do it," when I feel all is impossible. This all seems so selfish, though, I know, when Mom is going through this battle. But, I like to think of it as all of us going through this - she's not alone, she's got an army of people helping her fight off all the crap she's dealing with right now. I just need a place where I can feel free to share what I'm feeling in order to be a better daughter and a better nurse and cheerleader for her.

I'll blog again after the next appointment, maybe before then about something totally different. In the meantime, keep thinking good thoughts! It's going to be a long road, but it's a road I know will lead to health and life. So proud of you, Mom! Once again, you are proving that you are my hero. I love you!

The Roller Coaster

It's been a while since my last blog, and there's good reason for that. There's been a lot going on in the family, and I've been unable to really sit and write about it all, although I've thought about it often and wanted to do nothing BUT write. If you know me, you know I get out my feelings through writing, but in this situation, there's almost been too much to communicate and too much to say. So, in this posting, I'll try to summarize what's been going on in a somewhat "short" version.

In November, the week before Thanksgiving, Mom and I had our annual mammograms that we schedule together each year. For someone my young age, mammograms and sonograms on the breast are abnormal, but when your mom had breast cancer at the age of 32, you can't be too careful or too young to start being proactive. So, we went to the doctor, and my exams went as usual. I finished my exams, checked out, and waited in the waiting room for Mom to finish up. I was used to her taking a little longer than me to make it through the maze of exams and waiting areas, but after 45 minutes, I started to panic a little. Finally, Mom poked her head out and motioned for me to come back past the check out area again. Worried and anxious, I held Mom's hand as we listened to the doctor tell us that Mom had some calcifications in her left breast. Because they couldn't see what was inside them, they wanted to do a biopsy to make sure it was nothing to worry about. With Thanksgiving less than a week away, there weren't any appointments until after the holiday, so we patiently waited until we could know more. Thanksgiving really was a time to reflect and thank God for Mom's health and for having her in my life. She didn't want to tell many people since we really weren't sure what was going to come of the news. So, leaving Mom's house on Thanksgiving to be with Sam's family was tearful and difficult when I really just wanted to curl up with Mom and cry at the uncertainty of the news.

After Mom endured the biopsy, the doctor reported that they found atypical cells. He wanted the calcifications to come out, so they scheduled surgery for after the start to the new year. In the beginning of January, Mom had these small clusters removed, and within 3 days, she heard back from the doctor. Sitting at my nephew's basketball practice, Mom got a phone call from the doctor, left the gym to hear better, and then she walked back to the gym with a grimacing face and a defeated look as she shook her head. I was shocked and confused as I took her back into the hallway outside the gym. "It's malignant," she said. Completely taken aback and misunderstanding everything, I just kept asking questions that she couldn't answer.

The following Monday we had a family meeting with the doctor to hear more about her prognosis and his explanation of why an MRI and the biopsy had missed this horrible news. It was at this meeting that the doctor, to my knowledge, first used the words "tumors" and "cancer." He described the 2 very small tumors (surrounded by small clusters of malignant cells), and with more information that the cancer was not related to her previous cancer, that this was "stage 1," that it was not aggressive, that it couldn't have been caught any earlier, etc, we had a plan to go ahead with a double mastectomy to prevent any future disease from coming back. We were also optimistic because her BRCA tests had come back showing she is not a carrier for breast cancer. We thought this was good news, until we learned that the available tests only test for 1/3 of all genetic predispositions for breast cancer. Therefore, there is still 2/3 of all abnormalities that are not tested for; hence the reason my sister and I still need annual mammograms and sonograms.

Emotionally drained, Mom still believed a double mastectomy was the best option to get rid of the cancer beast that had attacked her twice now. So, we all mentally and physically prepared for surgery and recovery while Mom worked out the details and timelines with the doctors. She had more scans - bone, chest, ovarian, etc. - which all came back just fine. We all came together to organize calendars, prepare for cooking, helping with chores around the house, etc. while really wondering how Mom was handling all of this overwhelming news. To help ease the tension and have some comic relief, my sister and I planned a "Bye-Bye Boobies" Party. We surprised Mom the night before her surgery. We brought her "boob" cupcakes, sat in a circle of bras, gave her Mardi Gras beads, and read her a poem I had written entitled "A Good & 'Well-Fare' to Your Fancy Pair: A Poem by Amber on the Night Before Saying Ta-Ta to Your Tatas" which gave tribute to the life of Mom's breasts. She was a trooper and took the whole party in with smiles and laughs and a few tears, too, shared by all.

The next day, nervous for Mom and hopeful that all would go as planned, the family gathered together to support Mom and each other. About 30 minutes before they called Mom back from the waiting room, Sam called and said he was leaving work to come be with me. Grateful and touched and with a sigh of relief, I asked that he get there quickly so he could be with Mom before they called her back. Sam was there with everyone as we hugged and kissed Mom before they rolled her back to surgery. We all hung out at the hospital until Mom was in recovery, then we got to see her in her room. Mom was in the hospital for 2 nights, and we all traded off time staying with her and sleeping there at the hospital.

A week later, the doctor called with the pathology report. The news, again, was shocking, frustrating, and defeating. Malignant breast cells were found in the lymph nodes. Mysteriously, there were no cancer cells found in the right breast tissue, but the right lymph nodes had cells in them when the cancer was in the left breast. Breast cancer does not spread from breast to breast, so we still aren't sure how all of this happened. Needless to say, Mom was told that she would need to have more lymph nodes removed, she would need radiation, and she would need chemotherapy. Another blow. Another step to take. Another mountain to climb. But, I know Mom can do it. She will get through all of this with dignity and courage, and a lot of support from friends and family. This week, the next part of this journey continues. She'll have yet another round of surgery, and we'll find out even more from the doctors later.

So, that's where we are right now. A roller coaster of emotion starting since before Thanksgiving has still not ended. I'm angry that she has to go through this again; I'm scared for my mom's life and for her spirit; I'm glad that the doctor's caught what they did; I'm uplifted by the outpouring of support and encouragement; I'm awed by Mom's optimism and fighting attitude; I'm thankful for my husband who understands and joins me on this roller coaster; I'm confused at all the uncertain news; I'm trying to handle daily life while experiencing a nightmare with Mom; I'm certain she will pull through this.

My blog is dedicated to married life and the "ups and downs" of living through the knot. So, I have to comment on how wonderful and strong Sam has been for me through this roller coaster. This particular roller coaster I'd rather not be on since the downs have been too low and the ups have been taken right from underneath me before I could enjoy them, and Sam's been there the whole way. He understands that I just need time with Mom, he's picked up meal after meal for the whole family and not complained, he's come over to Mom's after work to help with meals or share time with the grandkids, and most importantly, he's known when I just needed to cry or be held without talking or explaining. He's cried with me and with Mom. He lets me vent and complain without getting annoyed. He knows this is a bump (okay, a mountain) in the road, but one we will all get over together.

So, as I conclude this posting, I want to just say how much I love my husband and appreciate his support. And, he'll understand that I want to end this post with a message to my mother: Mom, I love you more than you could ever know. You have more strength than any other human I know. You ARE strength. I am so proud of everything you are and how courageous you have been. You will win this war. I love you.