Yesterday was Mother’s Day. The above picture was one of the handmade gifts from my 9 (almost 10) year old. Even though our days go on much more normally (post cancer),  it’s obviously still prominent in his mind. It will have a lasting impact on his life, but my hope is that he will remember how I fought … and how my faith and family helped me through. 

I remember a Mother’s Day several years ago, when I was still in school. Our pastor talked about how it wasn’t necessarily a happy day for everyone. At the time, I couldn’t understand that. We made Mother’s Day gifts, did something special for mom and probably saw a grandma or two. What’s not to love? Little did I know that years later I would understand what she meant & her words would resonate in my mind. You see, there were several Mother’s Days that I spent in tears. I vividly remember having to leave a church service on Mothers Day because it was Mothers Day AND they were doing a baptism – double whammy. Although I currently have two wonderful boys, it took us a while to get them. We struggled with infertility for years. It’s something that’s not talked about much. People whisper about infertility (and miscarriage) like it’s something to be ashamed of, and it’s not. The experience made me appreciate my kids more than I ever imagined. I think that I (we) went through this experience so that I could possibly help others. Over the years, after losing my grandmothers, I also realized that people have lost their mothers and Mother’s Day is hard for them too. Moms who have lost kids must have an unimaginably hard day. I can’t begin to wrap my head around that so I won’t pretend to understand.

This past Mother’s Day was spent at the lake with some of my family. Although the day was mundane to some – we painted a cabin & the boys fished … we were together. My husband apologized to my mom for her painting on Mother’s Day, but I knew she wouldn’t have had it any other way. She got to see 2 of her daughters, a son-in-law, 2 granddaughters, 2 grandsons and her great granddaughter. We were together on a beautiful Minnesota spring day. She didn’t care what we were doing or what we ate. What a blessing. 

My boys woke up extra early to get some fishing in before the painting started. Myles, the youngest, came into my room at 6:30 am. “Mom, I know it’s Mother’s Day, but they’re really hammering the crappies at the bridge. Can we go get some minnows?” I agreed, and we went in to town to get some bait. The smiles on their faces were worth the lack of sleep. Record setting fish in their books. 

So, if your Mother’s Day was spent with your mom or your kids, then I hope it was great. If you’re missing your mom, I hope you have comforting, loving memories to hold on to. If you are wishing for kids but cannot have them, or have lost a child, I hope you are able to find the support and love that you need. 

Peace be with you on your journey of enough.

Today was the Radiation Oncologist follow up. (aka the flow chart Dr)  There is a whole team assigned to you when you are diagnosed and they follow you for years. Today I was cleared for just yearly appointments with this Dr, which is good news. 

There are quite a few things about the last year that are a blur, but this is something I will never forget. I met with Dr. Jensen after I was diagnosed but before I had the genetic testing done or really knew my treatment plan. He asked if there was anything else he could help me with. I said I wasn’t sure but he could tell that something was wrong.  I explained that all of this info was so overwhelming that I just needed a flow chart or something. Without missing a beat, he said, “I can do that for you.” He pulled a piece of paper from his printer and in non-stereotypical Doctor handwriting, he wrote me a beautiful flow chart. If this, then that… almost made me cry. Not because of the flow chart, but because someone cared enough, took the time to see my distress and wanted to help me navigate this scary path. 

This is something that transcends cancer. It’s something all of us could do more of – taking the time to care. Take the time to look a person in the eyes. Ask if they are doing ok and really mean it. This doctor treated me like a person, not a patient. He treated me with the same care that he would give to his sister or wife. Many of the people at the cancer center are the same way – it’s one of the things that makes them top notch. Caring people. From Chuck, the valet parking guy to the nurses to the doctors – caring people make a difference. 

So if you’re one of my few followers, I encourage you to challenge yourself to care more. Just that little extra bit can really make someone’s day. A simple flow chart might make all the difference to them. Do you know one of the reasons everyone loves my husband? He does this (he has no idea how rare or special it is) He asks people questions, leads them to talk, remembers their stories and follows up with questions days later. He cares. He treats everyone like they are someone. He visited with the Dish TV lady the other day. Most people might be silent while waiting for their receiver to update. Nope, not him. He asked her about her shift, what country she was in, what her hobbies were, what the weather was like etc. He sometimes says that he is just a para at the school, but it’s more than that. He talks to the kids at school like people, not problems. He plays tag with them at recess and asks about their loose tooth or their hunting trip. He plays games with them and answers questions in class if the kids don’t know the answer.

So tomorrow, be like the flow chart Dr or like Mr.Frueh & care a little extra. It will go a long way in making someone else feel like they are “enough.”

  
I normally don’t post this close together, but I feel like I need to get the message out about this book. It’s all about dealing with “the after.” The part that isn’t talked about much, that’s swept under the rug… the guilt, what ifs & anxiety. The book, “The Cancer Survivor’s Companion,” should be given out when you’re done with treatment. Ring the bell, get the book. There is a large gap in what happens after the treatment is over, and what you might think happens. At least for me there was.

The first two pages in the book almost had me in tears. Oh my goodness, they wrote a book for me! (I know it’s not only for me, but what a comforting feeling to feel like you’re not alone!) It’s actually in the introduction. They talk about the storm of cancer. You’re sailing along in your normal life & then cancer hits. It throws you off course and you think you might sink. But your cancer team has a lifeboat & steers you in the right direction. When you are “done,” they pull you towards shore. Everyone is cheering for you, but your boat stops. You’re not at shore yet and you don’t know what to do. You’re changed & might feel stuck.

Yes! There was such a battle to fight the enemy of cancer, now that’s done and things should be great. You should feel so happy, and yet, when you don’t, there is a ton of guilt. When you’re not living life to the fullest, you feel like you’re wasting your opportunity at a second chance. You might not have given yourself enough time to heal. You might approach all of these “anniversaries” with fear & anxiety but you feel guilty talking about it because you’re supposed to be fine. You’re done, right? What’s the problem?

There is a psychologist at Roger Maris Cancer Center who deals with this stuff all the time. She recommended the book. I need to give her a hug the next time I see her. This is the missing piece. The part that isn’t talked about. Oh, they ask you if you want to talk to someone but people like me will say, “nope, I’m good.” We try to handle all of these fears and changes and emotions ourselves, when there is a team that can still help us. They can help us get our boat to shore. It’s NOT because you’re weak or can’t handle this. You’re normal to go through this stage. Yet it’s not talked about much. (Or if it was, I wasn’t ready to listen.)

I did see the cancer psych lady. I happened to only be able to get in on the Monday after I had gotten my MRI results, before my biopsy. (Divine intervention) When I went to see the psychologist, one thing that I told her, is that there is a gap in preparing people for “the after.” There should be a letter sent out 2 weeks before the patient’s anniversary. It should state something like, “you are having an anniversary soon & here are some things you might be feeling…” (You might have anxiety, become quiet, have “what if” thoughts etc.) It should come in a folder with a big elephant on it since this is the elephant in the room that isn’t talked about.

My faith helped get me through my cancer storm, and it will get me through my “after.” I need to have some patience with myself. One of my favorite sayings is about drowning in life, but your lifeguard walks on water. He knows what you need. He will try to lead you to it. Be open. Be ok with sharing or getting help or talking to someone. Don’t ever feel like you’re not enough because you’re doing the best you can! Peace be with you on your journey of enough.

  

  
This past weekend was the Shrine Circus in Fargo. I remember going as a kid. One year, I won the coloring contest for school so we got free tickets. We didn’t go every year, so it was kind of a treat to go. Back then, it was in the Bison Sports arena (no Fargodome yet.) I don’t remember all of the acts, just bits and pieces. I’m pretty sure there were a bunch of clowns in a car, some kind of high wire act and animals.

This year, our school gave out tickets to the kids for general admission and a cotton candy. Our 13 year old had no interest in the circus. Our 9 year old really really wanted to go. I agreed to go with him and we met up with some friends. As we walked into the Fargodome, we wound our way around to the north side general admission section. As soon as he saw the cotton candy stand, he used his coupon for free (blue) spun sugar, with the intent to share with the two little girls we were meeting up with. We walked past the stand with light up trinkets, swords and twirling princess-like spinners. He said to me, “Mom, we never get the light up stuff. I’d really like a sword.” We found some seats and saved some for our friends. I let him go back down and look at the light up toys. He ran back up the stairs with excitement… “I found it! I found the one I want!” Now, I’m a bit of a softie for my kids, but we normally don’t give in for those kind of things. I’m sure they only last a little while and then they break. We did get free tickets to get in, so I agreed to the sword. He ran back up the stairs with a big smile and a light up blue sword with an eye sticker on it. “Mom, it’s a swordfish. Get it? Sword Fish?!” 

What made me cave on Sunday? Because my 13 year old had no desire to go to the Circus. This means my days of circus type events are dwindling. If a $10 sword can make my little guy’s day & be a fun memory, then it was well worth the $10. The past year has really emphasized the importance of spending time with them and making memories. We never know how many chances we will get. I’m not good with taking time for myself. I realize that it’s supposed to actually make me a better mom if I would. I’d rather spend it at the circus with tigers and cotton candy and blue swords. 

Aside from the friends, sword & cotton candy, the high points for the 9 year old was when the elephant had a giant “accident” in the center ring & the trick motocross bikes. The look on his face is priceless- while his friend is worried about the bikers, you can just see Myles thinking, “woah, that’s awesome!” And that was totally worth it.