Why fine is not enough

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Well, recently on the Myeloproliferative Neoplasms (MPN) support site that I reference here and there for my blood cancer, polycythemia vera, there was an article titled "Why Fine is not enough". This brought up loads of thoughts into my mind correlating with things that have been happening lately. Sometimes, when I ask David how he’s doing, he will answer with, "I’m fine". And I find myself doing the same occasionally although I'm not a big fan of the word 'fine', but here and there I throw it out in the world.

I find that when people come over to the farm to see us and maybe haven’t seen us in a while, they say (surprisingly) things like: you to look great! David and I both understand this is code for 'you look good for having cancer'. And I think this happens because people are never sure what cancer looks like. The world, the media, everything shows us that cancer looks horrible and terrible on people. It is horrible and terrible. But it’s not horrible and terrible all the time. We look alright until we were are not. Unfortunately, there's not a language for people to talk to people with cancer or other precarious conditions, It's awkward. Therefore, David will answer with "I'm Fine" more often than not. I'm fine, he says and saves the person asking from the uncomfortableness that comes with a cancer conversation. 

Love this site

I value the idea that we can strive to be better than simply fine - in all aspects of life. And this article talks about how fine is not enough for those with polycythemia vera, essential thrombocythemia and myelofibrosis, which are the the three MPN blood cancers. Why is fine not enough? The article goes on to suggest that MPN patients should take an active role in our journey by speaking up and seeking the support we need for our symptoms, our feelings and our health care because #fineisnotenough. It's easy to bounce along thinking we should lay low and be the "good" cancer patient who stays in their box. So it is a wonderful reminder to not stay caged in the notion that fine is fine enough, and instead - speak up. Say what you need. See after a girl. You, you're the girl. See after yourself.

So as you likely know, polycythemia vera is a cancer that is progressive, meaning that it can change and get worse with time. It's important for PV patients to recognize how it affects our quality of life. Just like with any disease or illness, if we step up and speak our truth, we can be our best advocate and not just be fine with how things are. I know, fine is easy though. But fine keeps us trapped. 

Fine is the word we use as an all encompassing generality of shutting down conversations that could be so much more. Fine = I’m good for now, let’s move on. Fine = I’m not sure this person is up to hearing the unfortunate details, they just want to know how I am overall. Fine = Not wanting to consume someone’s time to really explain how we’re doing behind closed doors. Fine is part of our conditioning that we learn in life of what to say when we’re deciding that summing up our life is what we need to do in that moment. I’m fine. But there are people who know we are not fine. There are many things behind closed doors that happen after cancer treatment. Chemotherapy and radiation are not your friend and present you often times with long lasting ramifications that cancer patients have to live with. It ages you. It makes you realize how vulnerable we are. 'I'm fine' covers up all the hard, big feelings we feel and protects others from them. This applies to everything, not just cancer. I'm fine, thank you. Now, onto something else. What I'm doing in the moment is minimizing the situation and choosing to keep my amour on and not allow myself to be vulnerable, because being vulnerable is hard. Some even see it as weakness. I see it as a likely chance that I could 1) cry or 2) show myself just a little too much to someone else. I'm still working on this, and will die working on this. Being vulnerable as a child was not encouraged. I always wore my amour and rarely took it off growing up. But look at me now, I'm trying to try to be vulnerable. Trying to try is where I'm at on it. Technically this blog could be a good example of this. Even though I just thought I should erase this whole blog so far and start over. I won't.

I feel like when I say 'I'm fine', it's like the very tip top of a very pointed sharpened pencil. Now that's fine. There’s nothing much else to that pencil point except that it’s really fine, so newly sharpened and drawing such a thin and nice feathery line. That really doesn't illustrate my life well. My life is not fine as a sharpened pencil so precise and clean-cut. So how can I say I'm fine when I'm not, but sometimes I do. So I think I might say I’m fine to shut down conversation about a particular topic, especially cancer. Why? Maybe because sometimes (not all the time) people might not think that the ones asking really want to know how we are - but maybe what they’re really asking is are you okay? That would be an easier question to answer. Yes, I am okay, thank you for asking. I’m not fine, but I am certainly making it in this world. I mean, sometimes I'm fine. I’m not sure of the exact differentiation of: I’m okay vs I’m fine. But okay seems more broad and fine seems much more specific. Kind of like the sharpie marker tip versus the sharpened pointy pencil tip. Two different tips used for different purposes. David prefers: I'm fine. I prefer: I'm okay. He, the pencil, I, the sharpie marker. 

The tricky thing is that people aren't usually buying 'I'm Fine' when David says he's fine. So they ask me. And then I tell them how he's doing. Sometimes, we are un-fine. And what I know for sure is, fine is rarely fine. 

Have fun little 1

It was the most beautiful Saturday morning recently, whereby the birds were singing and the sky was as blue as Brooks' eyes. Lauren, Ryan and Birthday Boy Brooks would be arriving to our house shortly and the celebration would begin. In the past year, with covid, the art of having a baby surrounded by family was stolen from all new moms. Covid has stolen many life experiences from many people. 

Happiest day of her life, yet we were 
not able to be there at that special moment.

Covid stole all the birthings, weddings and funerals plus everything else. Yet, on this Saturday a year later, we would be making up for lost time. For the last year, as everyone in the world tried to stay safe and stay away from each other, we are now taking time to get together and celebrate not only Brooks 1 year old birthday, but also a couple of family member's birthdays. Savannah would be turning 7 years old and Caroline would be turning 14 years old. Although Caroline was sick and not able to attend the party, she was with us in spirit. Savannah and her brother, Declan were kind enough to open Brooks gifts for him. There would be food, love, hugs, and the coming together to be with one another on this most beautiful day. 

The joy of being 1 year old

As tradition holds for 1 year olds to have cake free-form, Brooks did just that. He was unsure in some respects of what this sticky, sugary, round, brown, tasty treat in front of him was. And so it began. The best part of a 1 year old birthday party is watching a precious child eat cake. 

But mom says I can't have sugar

Then, in accordance with the rules of sugar, he crashed and it was nap time. Don't we all want to nap after a big piece of cake. The adults all caught up on the life happenings of each other while Brooks slept, and we all anxiously awaited his awakening to watch the present opening ceremony next. Savannah and Declan did a great job of opening all his gifts - thank you!

Birthday boy investigating his new things

And after a year has passed in the Life of Brooks, we were all able to come together as a family and be 1. He was 1 and we were all one with each other. Certainly, a day to remember. Well, maybe not for the birthday boy, but we will remember for him, and one day tell him about all the love and support at this gathering and what it meant to us all. Happy Birthday Sweet Boy. You are loved. 💙 

Nocturnal Mayhem

One thing I often overlook in my blog is: what happens when we sleep. Besides a gazillon trains that go by in the night, other creatures do as well. Bobcats, coyotes, skunks, opossums and raccoons to name a few who desire nothing more than to help themself to a farm animal for a snack. In particular, our farm animals. Fortunately for us, when we moved to our property over 5 years ago now, the prior owners left 2 great pyrenees dogs (livestock guard dogs) brother/sister duo: Levi and Whisper. They also left 3 donkeys here as well. Granted, we were informed of this information prior and it was not a complete surprise, but understanding them and what they do was a definite learning curve. 

We quickly learned that these dogs were not well socialized, but instead, nocturnal livestock guard dogs that would one day keep our farm animals alive. Every night. And with time, David and I begin to add farm animals like we were on an expedition to create a petting zoo. No, we didn't realize it in the moment, but turns out we have a petting zoo. 2 mini horses, 5 sheep, 2 piggies, 2 turkeys (kinda sounds like an ark instead of a zoo) 6 dogs, 6 barn cats, 7 ducks and 60-ish chickens. And what I really want to tell you is that they are all alive because of Levi and Whisper. Every night without fail, all night long, those two faithful and loyal guard dogs make sure nothing crosses the parameter of our property - and if a predator dares to do so - is killed. Period. The End. 

That seems so unfair, right? No. Life is not fair, you silly coyotes. Or you stinky skunks. Or you opossum who thinks you can just show up and eat dinner uninvited. Levi and Whisper instinctually guard, protect and serve all who live in the pasture and barns. There are no exceptions. Therefore, they rest during the day, and people often comment about their idle daytime activities. Yet, since no one is here at night to watch their skill and dedication besides us, it's hard to understand how much work Levi and Whisper do each and every night. 

It took Levi time to realize Maybe was 
not a skunk. She could not go out in the 
pasture for a full year. 

Each morning that I come out to the barn to feed, I thank our guard dogs. Thank you, Levi and Whisper, for all you did last night. Here's a wonderful breakfast. And when dinnertime comes along, they get a good dinner to be ready for their night. The nocturnal predators are bountiful and relentless, as the outdoor world comes alive when the indoor world goes to sleep. 

So where I was going with this initially was that there's no telling what you'll find when night turns to day, when darkness turns to light, and when one world quiets and another awakens. What do I find in my half sleep state in the morning when I rise and shine? Well, this morning it was a gift from the barn cats of a half eaten bird and a bonus dead mouse in my laundry room (thanks to a doggie door that allows them in there). Feathers everywhere, blood strewn like a crime scene on the tile floor and barn cats waiting to be congratulated. I in my jammies, and eyes half open say something to myself like "crappity" or "son of a monkey" or likely something I shouldn't type here. This fun never stops. Where's David. 

My favorite part is when I go to work in the dark at an early ungaudly hour and come home to find a dead something-something in the pasture from the night, all bloated up like a balloon during the day until I find it. 

I told it to go home when I saw it in the garage.
 But no.

Turns out, that possum was possibly the same one helping it self to the cat food in the garage and didn't make it off the property alive. 

That nose.

What's funny is I'll ask David, "Hey, did you see that dead fill-in-the-blank in the pasture this morning?" because he goes to work when it's light outside. He denies seeing anything. Uh huh. 

Or the fact David can clean up the entire barn and not see the chicken who has passed away during the night from old age (we have several old girlz on their last chicken life). Somehow, he has a radar that does not see dead animals. 

So, I tend to make alot of trips to places I'll leave undisclosed to deliver a deceased animal for other circle-of-life predators to have. Sounds odd, I know. But there's not exactly a dead animal disposal handy out here. Most all animals who have passed away for whatever reason are a food source to another wild animal. It's the nature of life out here. Each trip I make like this has Maybe and Sugar looking like this:

There is joy in the journey

This is an actual photo of them with me during my last "drop off" (see above referenced possum). It's not all fun and games out here. Dirty deeds are part of the experience. Maybe and Sugar don't ask questions. They just get in the car and ride. 

But wait, not all mayhem on the farm happens at night.

You see, animals are always getting out of the spaces they are supposed to be in. It's the way of the farm animal world. There's no getting around it. You will forget to lock that gate, shut that gate or fix that fence. You will think you shut that gate and you did not. You will blame it on your spouse. And then the horses are knocking over all the chicken food feeders and feed bins and not sorry about it. And then you arrive home from work another day and find the sheep in the front yard eating every leaf off your shrubs and the hibachis plants on the front porch. More than once, mind you. It's just fricken mayhem out here. My only condolence is when I talk to other farm people about this phenomenon and realize I. Am. Not. Alone. It comes with the territory. So I find my can of Suck It Up and call it a day. They don’t call me the $hit Show Supervisor for nothing. 

Some personal discoveries

If you use the same dishes for the farm animals and yourself

You might be a farmer

If you potty outside almost as much as inside

You might be a farmer

If you reuse hay string to tie things down on your truck

You might be a farmer

If you never put a speck of table scraps or food in the trash

You might be a farmer

If you love metal buildings on your property

You might be a farmer

If you take other people's left over food at a restaurant home for your farm animals

You might be a farmer

If you have more than 2 pair of overalls

You might be a farmer

If you drive dead animals to unknown places

You might be a farmer

If you watch the weather and run to the barn to button everything down

You might be a farmer

If you think your pretending to be a farmer

You are a farmer

I'm not convinced that the word farmer is what I would categorize myself as, but since I've not figured out a more suitable word, I'll stick with it. I'm just a girl, who loves farm things, wishing she could have all the farm animals. 

Until next time,

Cyndi 

Wait, one more thing before I go. I just remembered this whole possum thing has a bright spot. Since the possum was in the garage, I had an irrational fear that it might decide to live in the Christmas tree box in the garage. It might dig in there with it's sharp pointy claws and just live with my Christmas tree in the garage and get it all stinky and gross. So, I made the executive decision to bring in the Christmas tree early. And now we have a Fall Tree. I may never put this tree back out in the garage. What's after Christmas? Valentine's Day? Easter? What about a birthday tree? See, it's not all bad to have a possum in your garage.......

I mean, why not