33. Capturing Life Jun 8 2020

These are my paintings.  They're more than a hobby for me - they've kept me grounded and sane throughout the turmoil of being stuck in Eastern Europe, the quarantine cycle of the pandemic, my father's declining health - being
able to focus on something mindful and relaxing has been amazing.

The more I look at them, though, the more I find they're something of a parable for my life.  Step back and it's an absolutely beautiful painting -
but under close scrutiny, you'll see that I started with a paint by number kit.  A drawing on canvas with lines and colors to guide you through the
creative process.  Look even more deeply and you'll see all the places where my painting falls outside the lines - either because my hand was shaking, or the lines were so tiny I had a hard time focusing on them, but most commonly because I simply chose NOT to stay within the lines.  I blatantly used a different color (or, sometimes accidentally) than directed because I felt
that's what it needed.  Sometimes I painted over something after it dried. Sometimes I painted it back to the original.  But because of these many
individual imperfections, my painting is wholly unique - a one-of-a-kind masterpiece with far more purple than the pattern asked for.

I don't focus on those little mistakes (or happy accidents as Bob Ross called them) - I take a look back and see how each one of those decisions
plays into the overall look of the finished piece.  Just as each one of the decisions I've made in life has, through happiness and heartache, crafted me into the person I am today.  Someone I'm proud of, most of the time.  I'm a work in progress - and always will be - but I see a much more complete picture when I look in the mirror than I did when I was twenty.  The
wrinkles and the age spots and the scars and the bruises - they're all part of my character and my intrigue.  I LOVE that.  I honestly do. 

So feel free to inspect and judge all you like - in the end, beauty and art are in the eye of the beholder - and I respect your thoughts and ideas and suggestions immensely.  Just never expect me to EVER completely submit to coloring within the lines.  Give me a good guide / example and I'll
willingly follow it to an extent - but I'm always going to be uniquely me. Slightly different, a little off, but loving the adventure each and every
day.

32. Facing Death, Choosing Life - 2June2020

I worked at Tuacahn Amphitheater during it's inaugural season many moons ago - I was young, but excited to be a working woman getting real "life experiences."  I'd had a fairly sheltered upbringing and it was truly amazing to be living the dream working in a professional theater.

As the Front of House Manager, I had a really good rapport with most of the staff.  One afternoon, the younger guy on the maintenance team (and I'm mortified that I can't remember his name when I can remember his face as clearly as day) brought me a box with a bird in it.  The bird had flown into a glass pane and fallen to the ground.  He'd seen it happen, and quickly picked up the injured animal and brought it to my office.

I didn't know anything about birds or veterinary medicine - I got a soft shirt for it to lay on, poured a small tin of water, and softly pet its head and willed it to live with every ounce of compassion and love that I had in my body.  I BEGGED it to survive and fly away.  I'm not even a huge fan of birds, but I threw every particle of my heart into saving this one.

But over the next 30-45 minutes, I slowly watched it die.  No amount of praying or crying or hoping or making deals with God could save that poor wounded creature - and when it passed, finally out of pain and agony, it took part of my soul with it.  I felt as though my heart would break because there was nothing in my power that I could do that would have changed the outcome.  I couldn't process this.  It wasn't right.  It wasn't fair.  I cried for HOURS.

Tonight, those feelings came rushing back to me about a hundred fold.  My Dad is drifting away - the result of a traumatic brain injury over a year ago that left his mind disconnected, and a lack of interaction and engagement during the pandemic isolation has hastened his decline.  He's been in and out of lucidity for awhile, but tonight in speaking to him and hearing him talk absolute nonsense had me nearly in hysterics.  I listened to his stories and didn't try to argue or correct him.  He told me about the soldiers on the 81 freeway, and how "his guys" weren't shooting anyway and because of that he was going to get to keep a Jeep.  But he likes the Korean tractor better.  Why aren't I in Brooklyn where I'm supposed to be?  Also, there's a squirrel on his bed attacking him.  (You get the point.)

Correcting him wouldn't have done any good - his brain isn't working properly anymore.  He hasn't been out of bed since December, and he's lost so much weight there's not much left of him at all.  And there's nothing MORE we could have done - he had the best doctors, the best care, and was well loved by all his kids and grandkids.  Jonette has been amazing over the past few years making sure his insurance was filed and covering his visits, managing the sale of his house, working on his taxes - making sure the only thing he had to do was rest and heal.  Except he didn't - no matter how hard we prayed and hoped and begged God to give him a second miracle.  (This wasn't his first death-defying brain injury.)

Tonight I find myself preparing for another part of my soul to depart with my Dad on his next phase.  I'm not sure when that will happen, but the care home doesn't think it will be much longer now. The borders and airports here in Kosovo are still closed - and though the embassy could get me home, it would seriously impact my treatment and potentially jeopardize my heath (the chemo has destroyed my immune system).

I love you, Dad.  I love you enough to stay here and fight for my future.  And although somewhere in your brain I know you know this, it doesn't lessen the pain and hurt I'm feeling right now.

31. Chemo Round Three - a brutal beating

When I walked into work today after yesterday's chemo (later than I should have been), my boss took
one look at me and said, "ewww.  rough treatment, eh?"

EVERY muscle in my body hurts, I have a migraine, I'm horribly nauseous, I'm
exhausted and didn't sleep more than 2 hours last night, although I had to
get up to pee about 14 times. 

And today, although I'm hurting and cranky and tired beyond reason - I'm
laughing a little bit, because I still feel overwhelmingly grateful to have
the medical expertise that's keeping me alive so I can get home and take
that "Hug Tour" I have promised myself.

The GOOD news is that treatment is NOT going to be extended an extra six
weeks.  My doctor and I talked about it, and he weighed in with another
highly respected expert that I've been referred to here in Kosovo, and we're
sticking with the plan.  In three weeks, I'll start my nine weekly
treatments of the new chemo drug - which should be much less brutal than the
combination I've been on.

What really struck me yesterday, as I walked into the hospital in my giant
hazmat type mask that Neal Roberts sent me - is how few doctors and patients
were wearing masks INSIDE the hospital.  And many of them that were, had
them around their necks rather than their face.  One patient walked by me
coughing with no mask on and I shot him the look that said I would basically
shank him - and he put his mask on and apologized.

It was....odd.  They've relaxed restrictions and case numbers are going up
here in Kosovo, but they are still relatively small numbers compared to the
U.S.  Most of our on base stores have opened (sadly not the massage place -
I am DYING) - and the gym will open next week.  The stores in town are open,
and the restaurants will reopen next week as well.  For me, none of this
makes a difference - I'll be socially distancing through the end of chemo in
August no matter what, and then probably during radiation as my immune
system builds back up.

Am I angry?  Am I indignant?  No.  I'm just confused.  Bewildered.  (Okay,
I'm angry at that one guy who was obviously sick and not wearing his mask -
that's just jerk behavior.)   

Curious to see how things are going to play out.  Will we ever get to go
back to see one of those Spectacular Broadway shows like TITANIC or DEAR
EVAN HANSEN?  Will we ever feel safe eating at a restaurant again?  Will
there be a time when hugs can be freely given to strangers without it
feeling like an attack?  Man, I hope so.  But I'll take nothing for granted
if we do - I'll love every moment and be grateful for whatever we safely get
to do to connect moving forward.

30. Do People Change?

Years and years ago I had a friend so close to my heart I considered her a sister - I literally loved her like one of my sisters.  It was a difficult time for me, and I struggled so much with coming into adulthood and relationships and communication - things I hadn't much experience with when I first moved out on my own.

Then after years and years of being as thick as thieves, I lashed out verbally in anger and frustration about something I couldn't put into words  (I don't even remember what) and she said, "Finally, I see your true colors.  Our friendship is over."  I was devastated and confused.

Years later we were accidentally reunited as part of a group discussion about politics - Mitt Romney was running for President and she said, "I would never vote for him.  He strapped his dog to the top of the car once, which makes him an evil person and people don't change."

That conversation has bothered me ever since.  DO people change?

I know since those early days, I've learned about communication and relationship and love - I've made a lot of mistakes, and I've grown from them.  More importantly, I've lived in multiple states and abroad - including my current home in a third world country.  I've spent time in Germany, and their dedication to recycling has rubbed off on me.  I've lived in Hawaii, where their emphasis on relaxing and enjoying life has affected my work/life balance.  I've seen things here in Kosovo and throughout my travels - people surviving by combing through trash piles and begging for money, a lack of freedom to make choices or change their status, and abject corruption as a way of life.  These experiences have definitely filtered my view of the world and my own life.

Confusion has given way to gratitude and an understanding of how truly fortunate I have been.  Experience and time have provided maturity of thought and a little bit of wisdom.  Adventure has given me some awesome stories to share.  Cancer has given me the realization that time is short and procrastination is dangerous.

But have I changed?  DO people change?  I believe they do.  I believe they evolve and they grow - OR they choose not to.  I've seen more of the world than most - my perspective is understandably different, and if you've lived a happy life without ever leaving your small town or state, I'm not sure one could truly grasp things from my vantage point.  I'm not judging you for it - you have a perspective that I don't have as well, though I'd love to hear more about it in an intelligence open minded discussion (preferably not about politics).

Just curious as to what everyone else thinks.  DO people change?  Truly?

----------------------

Cancer update - chemo has been moved to Tuesday, as Monday is a holiday in Kosovo as well.

29. The Empowering Aspect of Cancer - 5/16/20

THE EMPOWERING ASPECT OF CANCER

Since being diagnosed in February, I can honestly say that my perspective on
MANY things have changed.  A lot.  I used to obsessively worry about money
and debts and how I was going to keep my house from falling into
foreclosure.  I'd spend months trying to figure out the RIGHT new hairstyle
- changing my mind so many times that I never actually went to the stylist
at all.  I managed to procrastinate the things that I enjoyed most in favor
of the things I felt I "should" be doing.

My attitude now:   "Fu%! It.  I have cancer."

That's not to say that I'm in any way defeatist - quite on the contrary.  If
I want to take a nap, instead of hemming and hawing about the things I
really should get done I simply say, "Fu%! It.  I have cancer.  My body
needs some rest."  And then I take a nap.

IT IS THE GREATEST THING EVER!

Want to stay up a little later reading a good book?   Want to eat cereal for
dinner?  Want to wear sequins to work today?  "Fu%! It, I'm gonna do it."
And these little things have led me to be SO much happier and less stressed
- just by giving myself permission to do the things that my body, or my soul
need at that moment in time.  While I can see that this level of indulgence
could easily go awry - I find myself eating salad for breakfast far more
often than I enjoy cereal for dinner - because in THAT moment, that's what
my body wants or needs.  My blood pressure has gone down.  My weight has
gone down.  My enjoyment and appreciation of all the little blessing in life
has gone up a thousand fold.

I'm not going to say, "I hope you get cancer" because that would be a burden
I wouldn't place on anyone - but I can tell you that my cancer changed me
for the better in ways I never anticipated.  I hope, when treatment is over
- that I manage to keep those little eccentricities.   And more than that -
I hope during this unprecedented quarantine, you're looking for and finding
and INDULGING yourself in those little things that bring you joy. 

I wasted so much time worrying about money, only to find that paying debts
off never brought me an ounce of the joy I found attempting (poorly) to
paint Harry Potter for my friend Margaret, or composing my own lyrics for
office karaoke, or eating ice cream for breakfast on the porch with my
neighbor, or keeping up ALL the holiday decorations for every holiday in my
office year round, or randomly sending toilet paper to unsuspecting friends
during the pandemic.......  (I think you get the point)

28. Chemo Round 2 - Monday, May 4th

Monday, May 4th
Day 1 - Round 2

Today went pretty much as expected - headed to the hospital in Pristina with Shem and started with a pre-chemo blood test to make sure my levels were strong enough to proceed.

The surgeon that was supposed to check my surgery scars wasn't available, so we went ahead and started with the chemo - first with the anti-nausea, then with the allergy meds, followed by the "Red Devil" for 15 minutes and the Cyclophosphamid for an hour, then a full saline bag to keep the vein happy.

Following this, I had a very brief conversation with the surgeon - it went like this:
S:  Are you having any pain in your abdomen?
M:  No.
S:  Are you having any problems with your bowels?
M:  No.
S:  Are you having any difficulties urinating?
M:  No.
S:  Okay then we're done.  Why am I here?
M:  Because I still have a lot of pain in my frankenbreast.
S:  Huh.   <walks away>

I'm thinking, THIS IS ODD.  But apparently it made sense because when chemo was done, I was escorted to the radiology department for a post-surgical ultrasound.

If boobs make you uncomfortable, you'll probably want to skip the next paragraph.

He did an ultrasound of my left breast (the normal one) and found a mass - which made my heart stop for a moment, but he explained that it's just a fibroid (NON cancerous) and then told me how they tell the difference between good and bad findings.  When he'd finished, he moved over to Frankenboob and was able to see the thick seroma that's formed under my arm (it looks/feels like a baseball and it normal) but was able to tell me that there are no abnormalities, no dangerous scar tissue, and that everything is healing as it should be.

I paid my bill and Shem and I were on our way back to Ferizaj.  Because the post is on lockdown, we had a list of errands for all the other people on my contract (there are 17 of us total) so we stopped in town for fishfood, medication, groceries, cleaning supplies, etc.

It was strange because I thought Ferizaj was still under driving restrictions - but they had absolutely normal traffic (heinous) and EVERYONE was out and about.  Most stores downtown were open, people were congregating, hardly anyone was wearing a mask and they were giving each other kisses on the cheek as normal.

Less than a week ago the Mayor of Ferizaj proclaimed that all the illnesses and deaths attributed to the town were a direct result of the American base being there - everyone had been infected on base, and then they brought the infections out to their friends and families.  This is wrong on SO many levels.  First of all, it's a NATO base - and NONE of the original cases of Covid were soldiers - they were all local nationals.  But the base was put on lockdown anyway, and it seems that this put everyone's mind at ease because there were NO apparent restrictions in town.

(I broke my mask strap at one point while we were out, and will spend the next two weeks being overly paranoid about whether or not that put me at risk - next time I'll definitely bring a spare.)

We finished our errands and headed back to base, to a grateful crew.  For me, it was just a treat to get off base - and strange to be envied for having the opportunity to get chemotherapy.  But there you go.  The isolation is definitely starting to affect everyone's mental health.

Side effects today - fatigue, mild nausea

27. Freaky Friday (I Shaved My Head)

Seriously I got tired of finding hair EVERYWHERE - on the pillow, the desk, the keyboard, my clothes....

So voila!   Even this fuzz should be gone in a week, which means the chemo is doing it's job!

Suck it, cancer cells!