Last night was our local, annual “Light the Night” walk to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. We have done it every year since my husband got diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia (Jan 2002).
This year I missed the walk because I had to work. I wish I had been there. Something about the red and white balloons flashing as we walk in the dark brings a tear to my eyes.
My husband raised $1000, earned a special T-shirt and got brought up on stage with the other high-earners.
I am so proud of him.
Not just because of the money he raised.
I am also proud of him because he has lived–and lived well–with what is still considered a terminal illness for over 6 years now. He has been an example to others, a support, and he has always, always, remained positive.
Sure, those first couple weeks were scary. He was SICK. We were SCARED and we didn’t have access to the medicine we have now. I had to give him injections that made him brutally ill.
Once he started Gleevec however, life returned to normal within days. Literally.
And he has been fine pretty much ever since. We had one episode where he was out of remission and he is now on the max dose of Gleevec.
Is the second remission a durable remission? Not always.
But right now, there is no trace of the cancer marker in his body.
None. Zero. Zip.
We’ll take it, even if it is only for a few years. He was 35 when he got diagnosed; that is much younger than average. At that point, the doctor told me he would have 5 – 9 years to live.
Well, its been close to 7 and no sign of trouble exists. With the newer medicines (the Second-generation gleevecs that are coming out), there is no estimated survival time, just the thought that its a longer survival time than ever.
We have perfectly matched bone marrow from his brother on ice at the hospital. He will go to transplant when—and if—-he needs it.
But for now…he is fine.
I am so proud of him.
As I scrubbed my kitchen clean this morning, I started thinking about the roles of women in modern society.
I was sadly disturbed when I realized that things have only changed on the surface, but underneath, the same-old stereotypes are running rampant in today’s society.
While its true that many of us are not wearing our pearls a-la June Cleaver, its also true that society still expects us to fulfill our ‘womanly duties’.
The new age of feminism proclaims we can have it all–the career, the family, and all the money we can earn.
However, the unspoken trade we make in such an agreement is that while we can have it all if we want it…we are still responsible for the general feeding, clothing, and upkeep of our respective families.
Go to work, burst that proverbial glass ceiling. Buy the expensive car on your own salary and wear all the business suits you want….
but don’t forget to pick up milk and diapers on your way home, make a healthy dinner before you take the kids to soccer practice, and remember that you have three loads of laundry waiting to be washed, dried and folded before you can go to bed and succomb to yet more womanly duties.
Yeah, the modern world holds so much for the modern woman.
The 50/50 break that we were somehow promised in the heyday of the 80’s hasn’t truly materialized. Where did Mr. Mom go?
Back to the boardroom, by the looks of it.
And he still comes home at 530 each day, expecting his meal and his newspaper.
We women rush around, proudly sporting the label of ’soccer mom’ while underneath I suspect there seethes a growing discontent in the uneven amount of responsibility we have somehow accrued.
Where is ’soccer dad?’
Hell, where is “laundry and vacuum dad’ for that matter.
I swept and mopped and vacuumed today because since I worked the last two days, everything I cleaned and maintained on my previous days off had fallen by the wayside.
I cannot be the only one facing this absurdity and clear misbalance of power.
And I hope to God I am not the only one who feels this way.
I say buy an apron for your man, ladies. Come home from work, take off your shoes, and ask what’s for dinner. Act pissily surprised if you are told that nothing is ready yet.
And don’t forget to leave the laundry.
So the first dream was that my husband R was in an airplane. The tail broke off, the airplane crashed and everyone died. I was devastated. I remember crying in the dream and having people comfort me.
I woke up shaken.
Got out of bed (after making sure R was breathing!) and walked around a bit. Got back to bed, back to sleep…
The next dream was the same airplane, same crash, but R survived. A doctor…somewhere, in my head I think…told me that even though he survived the crash, he had contracted a virus that would kill him in three days.
R seemed fine, we were not totally convinced he would suddenly die in 3 days. I went to work, he went to work. The second day he went to some kind of movie/comic convention out of town.
I remember I wanted to go, was jealous and nervous he was there alone so close to the third day. He stayed the night and called me the morning of the third day. He sounded really sick..congested, coughing etc. I told him he’d better come home right away, that maybe the prediction was coming true. He told me no, he was fine, he wanted to stay with his friends. I got off the phone with him and knew I would never see him again.
I woke up with the impression he’d died.
*
Horrible stuff, huh?
My nephew got married a few weeks ago and today he sent me the digital copies of his wedding pictures.
I am amazed at both how old he and his bride are (how are they 26 and 29 already??) and yet dually amazed by how young they are (They are only 27 and 29!!).
I was 24 when R and I got married and back then I thought I was grown up. I suppose my nephew and his bride think that they are grown up as well.
As did my mother and her friends, who were all married at 18 or so.
Now of course, 15+ years into marriage, I have learned a thing or two. One very important thing:
You don’t really ever have to grow up.
Sure, you play dress up in the clothes, and you playact when out and about with others who think they are grown up too. (Or, even worse, the ones who really did grow up. That’s a sad sight.)
You can hold your job, pay your bills, have your own children. (Responsible and grown up do not mean the same thing),
But inside, where it counts, you are only as old as you allow your yourself to be.
Go to work on time, and bring home your paycheck.
But remember to have fun with it.
Look at your partner and remember that you are not looking just at today, but at all the days you’ve known each other. You can see the past, when the crow’s feet werent so pronounced, and you can see the future, as you hold hands watching the sun set.
Remember to laugh. Smile lines are not wrinkles.
And when you find joy (and you must remember to look for it in the small places!) share that joy with others.
Tell someone you love them, with the openness of a child.
Hug someone with the unselfconsciousness of youth.
Hold hands, like your mother always told you to do.
Love someone with your heart wide open.
Do these things, kids, and you won’t ever have to grow up.
The ache, the need, the desire…
I find myself nearly clawing at the air, gasping for breath until I can breathe no more.
I ache to get away, to find myself elsewhere when I awake in the morning.
I crave, I crush, I hunger, I dream…
Thoughts of great beyonds and far away horizons,
great adventures and flying through time…
I wish I want I wish
The freedoms of childhood, so far behind me now yet,
somewhere before me lying tantalizingly golden in the setting sun.
My Peter Pan has flown away,
my Superman retired his cape and my
very own personal savior has changed
into someone I think I knew once long ago,
when I was very young…
So I get these rip-roaring killer headaches, generally right as a rain-bearing front is headed our way. I’ve had one since yesterday. It rained all afternoon, and then the headache went away. I was fine til this afternoon when it came back with a vengeance and sure enough, the sky is clouding up and they just forecast rain for the next day or so.
Great.
My grandmother could tell the cold coming by the feel in her bones. I get whopping headaches.
No amount of advil (800mg!) helps. Nor does tylenol (1000 mg!) (all at once!) (and yes its safe dear reader, I am a nurse. Safe for me at least, maybe not for you),
So I tried to look up headache cures.
Lavender aromatherapy. I smelled my flowers. No change.
Gentle scalp massage. I have no one to rub my head and it doesn’t help when I do it myself.
Gentle back/neck massage. God that would be heaven. But again, no one to do it.
Warm shower. Worsens it.
Cool shower. Didn’t work.
Lots of water. No help.
Caffeine. Great, now I’m wide awake with a raging headache.
::Sigh::
The best part of these headaches (because something has to be good) is the amazingly strange way my mind and thoughts tend to go when my brain starts throbbing.
Today I managed to figure out a whole concept of my statistics class that previously made no sense, simply by realizing out how many of my family members and boyfriends a certain ex-friend of mine slept with from 8th – 11th grade. Ahh…cluster sampling…or is that cluster F*$#.
Ah well. I am guaranteed bizarre headache dreams as well Last nights were doozies….and no I am not explaining them because I am too much of a lady to describe the lewd events my subconscious mind came up with in last night’s REM. I will let you all make your own conclusions. I have to say though, it was quite entertaining.
And after a five minute pause to reflect on the dreams I am being paged by Loving Family to start dinner already.
So I am off.
Maybe cooking will help the headache.
nah, somehow I don’t think that’s the answer either.
lay me in the soft grass
worship at my feet
show me the stars in your eyes, man.
and perhaps our souls shall meet.
Take me in the rain, man
Take me in the snow.
Take me in the sunshine
And make my shadows go.
Hold me in the dark night
and tighter in the day
Keep your body close to mine
to keep the dreams at bay.
And if I find you please me
and if I find you’re true
then promise that you’ll never leave
and I’ll give the same to you.
The secrets that the heart holds
and the holder of the heart
must bind like salt and water
and swear to never part.
So in the midnight hours, Man
when I scream and shake,
Find me in the shadows then
and kiss me til I wake.
I was watching a show that discussed emotional infidelity—having an ‘affair of the heart’ without necessarily moving to the physical level. The consensus was that an emotional affair is worse than a physical affair. (assuming one can split the two, of course).
They said 97% percent of the women surveyed felt that an emotional affair would likely lead to a physical affair.
Warning signs that you are entering dangerous waters include increasing your communication with this person, thinking about this person a lot, and fantasizing about that person. The experts on the panel also said that often, a person enters an emotional affair when the sex life at home has fizzled out a bit.
*
Ok
*
So, I start to thinking (always dangerous)…
What if a person is having all the physical encounters they want and need at home, but is searching for intimacy/friendship? What if the primary relationship does not lend itself to sharing secrets, joys, pains, etc?
How is it bitching to your best girlfriend different from bitching to your best guy friend?
I am one that is against ‘male bashing’ and ‘husband bashing’. I think its mean and cruel.
But I imagine that sometimes, a person has an issue they would want to talk about, or is not receiving the emotional support they need at home.
I suppose there is always therapy. But a therapist costs money, and a therapists goal is going to be to teach you to rely on yourself.
What if you just want a sympathetic ear? Is that emotional infidelity?
And what if you do fantasize about another person? Does that make you a cheater? Does it matter if its Brad Pitt vs. the sexy guy who delivers your mail? Does it matter if its a stranger or a person you’ve known your whole life?
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