Day 18 Breaking down

 

Breaking Bad

Yep, it's about that time now when all the building blocks of the cancer treatments are heavy, changing shape and wreaking havoc. It's just going to happen and there's no getting around it. And it's time. It's been time, but it's becoming easier to say it now. There's so many emotional (and physical) cycles a person goes through in this scenario. We have both circled back around to the types of feelings we had a few weeks ago. From the beginning, when we felt like something big was about to happen to us and the chaos inside you bubbles up. That died down as we begin to adapt and adjust. Now, with more bumps in the road, these same feelings arise again. More negative side effects of treatment are showing up and more uncertainty of what that will bring, which brings about the funny feeling in your tummy again, like when you were nervous about your first piano recital and thought you might actually fall off the stage. It's not awful, but we both feel the bubbling of the emotions and uncertainty. That's when the power of positivity is best served. 

I've discovered I'm finding ways to comfort myself without overthinking how to comfort myself. I started a home yoga practice, even just 30 minutes a day can change the lens through which I see. I like to light a candle in the morning, play Ambrosia on Pandora and do a full body scan of myself. How am I feeling? How's my mental health today? Then, I'm needing to check in on David more and more, as that's my job, too. He's not able to be as attentive to his needs as he was before, and I need to pick up those pieces as they show up more and more. I'll be doing a full scan on his capacities -  as well as my own. The team needs to stay a team, and that's what this next few weeks brings us. We have the opportunity to discover new ways to communicate, facilitate appts and stay in tune with (in particular) what David's needs are. What we do every day makes a difference in what tomorrow brings. Run the tangents and stay ahead of the curve. Got it. Normally, all these thoughts stay in people's minds......I happen to enjoy writing down the development of it all, including these personal thoughts and feelings that arise as each day passes. It's not always pretty, but it's part of this journey.

The brave are always stubborn

I have also figured out David's secret for success thus far: humor - and stubbornness. Oh, and prayers, of course. I never knew stubbornness would come in so handy. I mean, we all know kanzer sucks. It's scary, but so much of the success is in our mind. And David is like a sumo wrestler whose not going down without a fight. The only reason he ever looks back, is so that he can see how far he's come. As the cancer treatments beat him up, his recipe of grit + grace remain his staple. 

Luckily, Cybil is always on stand-by to make potions in the nutribullet, and he has a pharmacy in his own bathroom with a personal pharmacist, and a comfy bed with a wedge pillow. He has friends and family to lift him up, along with plenty of sunshine and warm weather in Houston. He's made new friends at school, I mean at MDA. And he's close to the halfway mark that lights a new-found fire under him to finish strong. It's day-by-day here, and we relish in it. 

Smell you later

David said his taste and smell are about 90% gone now. He'll ask what something taste like, "Is this salty to you?" Yes, I'll say, and he'll look back at the food, feeling sure I'm lying to him. He wants more salt on it, thinking that way, he can taste it. Chicken noodle soup's noodles are comforting to him. The pendulum has swung over to the texture rather than taste. The temperature of the food is more compelling than ever. And as his senses change, so does his food choices. He's finding satiety more and more difficult in regards to food. Our refridge looks like a grocery store exploded in it, because he wants this, no wait, I want that, no, not that, this. This madness will cease, I know it will, because it's a phase he's moving through to get to the acceptance of having no smell or taste. New coping skills will develop and they won't include impulse buying at the grocery store. We will eventually get to the point where he figures out what works for him, and what doesn't. It's a process. Right now though, he's scrambling to figure it out and I'm not talking about eggs. 

So how's H-Town

Houston's good. It's sunny, warm and mild. The humidity makes my hair perfect for witch hair. #FrizzCity  The Brays Bayou has a nice trail system next to it, along with trails all around it as well. There's also some nice trails around the Houston Zoo, golf course and Rice University. I've gotten lost a few times on them. I've also seen how the city rounds up the homeless that are trying to "camp" under the overpasses. Many of the overpasses correlated with the trail system have occupants. It's easy to run by many of them on a daily basis. The city does a pretty good job with the constant monitoring of these areas to keep it as safe as possible for the multitudes of people who desire to run, walk and bike on these trails, safely. It's a balance, that's for sure.

There's traffic, lots of food, a myriad of shopping choices, and covid all around. Hardly anyone is outside without a mask. I walk and run outdoors with a mask, as does most people do around here, anyway. The apartment complex is nice, and we've met a few neighbors. I doubt any of them have a chicken on their patio. 

So how's the chicken

Not so good. Turns out we won't be able to save her, as she has a neurological disease that is progressive. We are providing palliative care at this point. She's unable to leave her little fake-coop (cat carrier with pine shavings). It's very sad, as I only have a few frizzles left, and she's a sweetie. God will take her when it's her time. My heart feels for her. Chicken life can be so unfair to these fragile little mini dinosaurs. 

Unfortunately, it's been a bad week for chickens on the Graves Farm. First, I got a call on Tuesday evening from the caretaker (who comes morning and night) to feed all the animals, telling me that there's a chicken whose "dead" inside the barn. Whatttt? Firstly, how am I expecting her to take care of this situation. And secondly, I'm going to need to provide more compensation for chicken disposal services - plus the trauma of it all for her. Ugh. I felt so bad for the chicken AND for her. It was awful. Turns out, it was one of my cinnamon queens, and I'll probably never know what really happened to it.

At this point, I've now got 2 chicken issues, and I'm not at the farm to figure out what's going on. I've got one death reported, and one chicken on my patio whose not going to make it. I mean, what else could go wrong.

The next day. Ring, ring, ring. Hello? Oh, Hi Angela! What? You and Paul came to clean up the barn and check on things - and there's a dead half-eaten chicken in the yard? In my mind, I'm secretly hoping it's the same chicken and not another chicken. Wishful thinking, although that's horrible to say even that. It's another chicken deceased, a grey one this time and the difference is that something has tried to eat a part of it. Gross! Poor Angela and Paul, whose now in a position to figure out the chicken disposal process, too. What the what! My head is spinning and yet her voice sounds so organized and calm. I appreciated her assistance more than she'll ever know. Her and Paul got that all squared away. I have a feeling next time I need help with the barn, there will be no one raising their hands to volunteer - paid or not paid. 

Now, after I've talked to two kind, sweet human beings who are just trying to help us out - all within 24 hours of each other - they are now having to dispose of the bodies. I'm beside myself. It's in no way shape or form their fault that the chickens are dying. They just are, and I'm not there to figure it all out. I want to thank my caretaker AND Angela and Paul for doing a deed that is way above and beyond what anyone ever expected. I'm so sorry you had to find it out on your own, at the farm. This has been the ultimate gift (to me from them) Angela and Paul to take care of this situation for me - and to keep close watch on what's going on around the farm. I'll be there first thing Saturday morning, but until then, they are my eyes and ears. Thank you SO much. How can I ever repay them. 

Yesterday is gone

Don't let your yesterday take up too much of your tomorrow. I have a magnet on my fridge at home that reminds me of this daily. I put this advice to use yesterday, as I tried hard to not incessantly circle in the uncontrollable things happening at the farm. I did sleep last night, but only after a very long prayer included "please, please be with the farm, the chickens, the dogs, the donkeys and the people who are looking over it all".  I awoke this morning knowing that prayer - and breathe - are the two mainstays for my emotional well being. I'm instantly calmed once I pray and breathe. 

Praying and breathing helps me to embrace a contemplative life by "not-doing". Not swirling in the worry and emotions that are not beneficial to life. Worrying about the chickens is not going to make anything better. I either need to 1) Act On It or, 2) Let It Go. So, I let it go, until I can get there to act on it. Chapter Two in the book, Radical Optimism tells me the most important thing in initiating a contemplative attitude toward life is being still and open. The author compares this to tension in your mind bringing about tension in your muscles. That's fair, it makes sense and I already know that, I think. Or do I. While Chapter One addressed Leisure, Chapter Two addresses Stillness. Perfect. I loved all the words about this in this chapter. Relaxing the body, keep the body still, utilizing silence that can bring us to deeper levels of reality. I'm pretty sure this is why I adore yoga so much. It does all these things, and moves your body at the same time. 

I'm going to close with one of the last paragraphs in this chapter because it's what I needed to hear today and every day:     (besides, of course, Just What The Doctor Ordered daily notes Rx#413)

"So let us take care each day to attend to relaxing, letting go, quieting, being still. Let the body relax, give it exercise and rest: let the desires relax, let the insistence on having our own way relax. We don't need to tense ourselves up for this or against that. We don't have to try to correct, or even to regret, a multitude of faults. Just sit down near Jesus and absorb His peaceful presence. Observe how the peace in Him comes from having no personal preference tensions and from having all the dynamisms of His soul well ordered. That's how He can be both peaceful and powerful."

Trying for stayedness and quietness in this messy mind of mine,

Cyndi

A huge shout-out to Kim and Brooke for the most awesome care package! The time and effort it took to put that together warmed our hearts, and we have evidence (ALL the treats and fun things!) all over the apartment of the love and support from you both. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts! 💕💖💓

Let me give you a small glimmer into the life that is us, here in Houston. Please do not read on if blood makes you woozy.

A little history first: 

That’s the spot

David has a little spot on his nose that comes and goes. Mostly comes, rarely goes. He's seen the dermatologist about it and had it "laser-ed" previously. I happen to have skin cancer, and have never had a owie laser-ed, so I'm not really sure what that's all about. 

I digress. Owie on the nose. Then the radiation treatments started and about 2 weeks in, his owie is starting to bleed because it's right in the cross hairs of being hit hard, too. 

Fast forward to a few days ago when he bumped the scab off with his hand and blood started quirting out like a fire hose. He got that under control and was putting aquaphor, ointments and creams on his face to help with the radiation skin burns and keep this owie under control - or at least try. 

Then, here I was TODAY, minding my own business, working at the kitchen table and I hear the bedroom door open. David comes walking out all cheery and happy from his nap and says, "Hi! What cha doing?!"

First, my face was like this:

All while looking at his face, like this:

I am speechless and he's marching around like everything is fine. "David", I say, "Are you okay?" and I can't take my eyes off him. 

It takes my mind a few seconds to realize he has NO idea what's on his face. 

I say, "What's that on your face?!" and he says "Ointment". No, I don't think so, sweetie.

As I grab his hand and have him look in a mirror, he's now just as shocked as I am. What The What!?

It's then we both realize that while he was napping/sleeping, the scab from his owie had come off and bled on his face, and drizzled down his neck. He woke up and wiped it all around like it he was spreading the ointment around on his face, making his gothic makeup even worse than it was. Just laying in a dark room spreading blood around his face and neck, rubbing in the 'ointment'. Then, coming out the room to scare the ever lovin $hit out of me. Can I give up now? Ugh. I can only imagine what's next. I gotta go do more yoga. Peace out. God, please help me.