Home For The Holidays

It's been a little while.  Sorry about that.  I'm guessing that a lot of you, like Isaac and I, are busy with Christmas being tomorrow.

This past week and a half we did Christmas with my dad's extended family in Nebraska and then when we got back, Isaac and I headed to Iowa City for Christmas with the Hintons.  Howard (Isaac's dad) and I are in a weight loss competition, so I was glad to hear that Lynn (Isaac's mom) made him a couple batches of fudge.  Unfortunately, it looked so good that I wanted to try it, and I ended up loving it so much I'm sure I ate more than Howard.  I guess that effort to trip him up backfired.

The last two full days we've been in the van with my Iowa family--and my brother.  Glory sakes, heaven spare me.  I've wanted to kill him less this year than in the past few years, but he can still get on my nerves faster than any other human being I know.  I don't even know how his brain works to think up some of the things he does.  I guess we're just wired differently.  VERY differently.

We stopped in Tennessee last night and visited with some family that we don't get to see very often.  It was fun to get to hang out with them!  The boys (Isaac and Ike) are on a weightlifting kick right now so they were super excited to learn there was an in-home gym.  They spend at least an hour seeing how much weight they could bench, among other things.

Courtney and I lifted a little bit too, but not for long.

While we were there, Isaac and I slept on an air mattress upstairs.  Nobody realized it had a small leak in it and so midway through the night I went to roll over and just about fell off because so much air had escaped.  I felt like I was sleeping on a waterbed without any outer boundaries.  Mom came up to wake me up in the morning and said that both Isaac and I were sleeping with our backs/butts on the ground and our legs were up in the air.  And apparently when I got out of the bed Isaac sunk to the ground and the bed kind of caved in around him.  Poor guy.

Today we were in the van for another eleven hours and thankfully nobody killed Ike.  Sometimes he makes it his personal mission to see how many people he can get riled up before we gang up and beat him (not literally).  He's pretty good at getting to the edge of everyone's patience.

We arrived in Orlando at 1:00am and the plan is to make our way down to Miami tomorrow.  Then we get on the cruise ship and will be floating in the ocean for the next five days.  Ahhhh...  Hopefully it will be relaxing.  I'm looking forward to it because not only is it a vacation, it will kind of be like a honeymoon for Isaac and I since.

The plan had been to go on one in August this year when he had a break in his school schedule; however, the appearance of the cancer prevented us from going anywhere and doing anything, so this is kind of like our fake honeymoon--but we'll have guests!

Port Removal

Today I get my port out!!

I'm super excited because it's like saying "sayonara" to my cancer.  Hopefully for good.  The ambiguous "they" say that if it were to return, it would probably be within the next two years.  After that benchmark, it's exponentially less likely to make an appearance.

However, here are my immediate fears.

When they put the port in me, I was under.  As in, I was unconscious.  Apparently, though, it's common practice to take it out while I'm awake.  I don't know if I'll be getting anything more than a local anesthetic. Which makes me nervous, because this thing is laced up around my collarbone and then snakes down into my vein... and they're just going to cut me open a little bit and pull it out?

Doesn't your flesh usually start to attach itself to foreign objects in your body after so long?  Won't they be ripping out little pieces of my muscles and stuff too?  AM I GOING TO FEEL IT??

Ick.

I've read up on this quite a bit by now and people keep saying it's "no big deal" but it still just kind of freaks me out a little bit.

It probably doesn't help that recently Mom told me a story of a guy who she knows who had his port removed and during the procedure they accidentally nicked his vein and he almost bled out.  Apparently this is not very common, but it does happen.

I'm not afraid of bleeding out (if you haven't caught on by now, death doesn't bother me) but I do think I'd like to be unconscious if it were to happen.  That's all.

I'll let you know what happened in a few hours once it's over.

Ladies' Night

Last night Kim and I got all dressed up to go out to J. Barbaro's ladies' night.  Not red carpet dressed because it's too cold, but nicely dressed--which included heels.  We assumed it'd probably be a good idea to arrive fashionably late, since that's what people on television do, and headed out toward the mall around 6:30pm.

In my head I had visions of lots of fancy, classy ladies wearing designer clothes sipping mimosas and cosmepolitans while browsing the latest men's fashions for their husbands.  I thought it'd be one of those events where I'd have to keep my eyebrows raised the whole time in order to appear like, yes, I'd had plastic surgery too and I would need to be careful not to smile too big because according to Tyra, it makes your eyes squinty and emphasizes wrinkle lines in your face and that's not considered very attractive.

Before heading to ladies' night though, we headed over to Nordstrom to visit Karla, Kim's mom.  Karla is one of those tiny, very fashionable mothers, who, while not a "housewife" herself, probably has a lot of insight on how to deal with those who are.  (And when I say "housewife," I'm referring to women who possess similar traits to Danielle Staub.... just a little bit crazy...)  She helped me get mentally prepared and even more important, helped me realize that my pocked on my blazer was sewn shut and could very easily be opened for use (aka, holding my business cards).

Kim and I then proceeded to head to the party.  We arrived at the storefront and for a moment, wondered if we'd arrived on the wrong night.  There was literally nobody in the store, aside from the workers.  Well, I guess that's a little bit of a lie... there was a couple that was leaving as we walked by the door.  And yes, I did say, BY the door.  We were so thrown off that we didn't even stop in.  Clearly we were mistaken about this event.

After talking for a minute, trying to figure out what in the world was going on, we decided to go eat pizza instead.  However, getting to the restaurant required walking by the store again and so as we made our way to devour a delicious plate of carbs and cheese, Kim asked if I was going to go in.  It felt kind of like a dare, so I did.  In a spur-of-the-moment decision, I decided that instead of networking with the absent fancy ladies, I would network with the store owner instead.  Unfortunately, he was in a meeting, so the sales associate recommended we come back in about a half hour.

To the pizza shop we went.

By this time, our feet were on FIRE, as neither one of us regularly (or even irregularly) wear heels and so the booth in California Pizza Kitchen was greatly appreciated.  I had a 5-cheese and tomato pizza and Kim had BBQ chicken.  They were both extremely delicious.  I probably appreciated it even more than normal too, since I hadn't been allowed to eat carbs or sugar yesterday for my PET/CT scan.

We stopped back at J. Barbaro and very awkwardly were introduced to the owner.  I say awkwardly because when we first walked into the store, we said hello to a man on our way toward the sales associate, thinking he was a customer since he wasn't really dressed too snazzy.  Then, when the associate went to introduce us to the owner, we went back to that same man, interrupted his phone call with his child, and said hello.  Embarrassing.  To make matters more confusing, there was another man in the store who looked a lot like Santa Clause dressed in a very nice suit and if I had walked in there blindly, I would have mistaken HIM for the owner.  I felt like I had no idea what was going on.

Karla hadn't taken her break at work yet so we made our way back to Nordstrom to report on the night and visit with her for a bit and then picked up a movie at Redbox to finish off the night.

Lesson of the night: go big or go home.

And since they hadn't gone big, we went home.

Business, Business

I had my PET/CT scan this morning.  I think it went pretty well.  The biggest upside to the immediate experience is that I only had to get poked with a needle once!  Hallelujah!

Tonight Kim and I are going to pretend that we're really fancy folk and go to an event that is being held at Partridge Creek at J. Barbaro Clothiers.  It's a high-class (or at least, high-income) men's store that sells pretty nice ties, shirts, suits, etc. for a pretty penny.  Isaac and I happened to wander in there last Sunday after church while we were mall-walking because he was hoping to get ideas for clothes for when he has to start dressing up for clinical rotations come this next school year.

It was a little bit comical, in my opinion.  Neither one of us were dressed nice, my hair looked all crazy, and Isaac is in dire need of a cut himself.  The sweet lady at the counter either must have been blind and didn't realize that "no, we can't pay $125 for a tie," or she did a killer job at following that rule of business which states that you should never assume your client's income or spending habits.  Either way, she was leading us all around the showroom putting together combinations of shirts, ties, and jackets in hopes that I would "get ideas" for Isaac for Christmas.

As we were heading out the door, she stopped us at the counter and invited me to attend a ladies' night later on in the week.  I'm not exactly sure what those events look like, but she led me to believe that it will be cocktails and snacks of some type.

We left and as we neared the car, I told Isaac that I was considering going to the event, simply because it would be a good networking opportunity where I might get the chance to hand out my card.  Plus, I'm assuming that if the women attending this event are going to pay $125 for a tie and upwards of $195 for a button-down shirt, they're probably not going to be all that opposed to investing some good money in their hair.  We'll see.

I had to create a new temporary business card (partially for this event, partially for my own sanity) as well because the one I was handing out didn't quite portray what it is that I do.  To me, a business card is something that, if executed well, will draw in new clients to you almost on its own.  Here's what I ended up doing:

Back side of original card

Front side of original card

New card front, back is empty

I got some tips from a friend on how to hand my card out in a non-tacky way as well.  I've never really had to hand a card out to someone I don't know, aside from college students, who are generally very un-scary, and so I'm a little nervous.  Plus, I'm not sure if there are business card hand-out faux-pas...

Anyway, Kim and I will be attending tonight and I'm sure I'll have some interesting stories about our experience.

And in even cooler news: I get my port out on Monday.  I'm super psyched!!  YES!!

Fail.

Yesterday I realized that I was NOT a very good blogger throughout the month of November.  Not. At. All.  I'll be honest though, I have really been feeling much lately.  I've just been... being.  Existing.  Waking up, breathing, eating, and then going to sleep again (albeit, at extremely odd hours).  And it's really hard for me to blog if I haven't really felt strongly about anything.

It's kind of like that relationship that you have that all of the sudden seems like it's at a standstill.  Sometimes you break up because you think surely there should be more to it, whereas other times you simply endure because you trust that better things are to come.

Obviously I can't break up with my life... although there are certainly times when I want to.  Like this morning when I was getting frustrated about my income situation.  It's probably not actually the "situation" that was frustrating me, but more that I don't like the fact that I'm coasting right now.  And when I say coasting, I'm dead serious.  I know some of you have probably had moments in your life that felt like coasting, but imagine waking up EVERY SINGLE DAY and doing nothing.  Maybe watching television (brainless), cooking (kind of brainless), laundry (once a week max, and again, brainless), and napping.  I don't think I could be "coasting" any more.  Unless I were in a coma, which is probably actually more comparable to breaking up with life since you're no longer conscious.

So, I had yet another meltdown and just needed to cry it off.  And then I talked with Meg about being homesick.  More tears.  So then I wondered if my period was coming soon.  Nope.  It's over two weeks away.  Maybe this is residual cancer stuff?  I don't know.

Either way, I'm just exhausted from it.

Another Embarrasing Day

Today is an odd type of improvement since Thanksgiving.  Instead of hacking up mass quantities of phlegm, the problems this Tuesday are quite unusual.

Have you ever had that type of cough that is extremely strong?  The kind that is so forceful that you throw yourself forward out of your chair, find yourself standing on your tippy-toes, and wish you could catch a full breath?  That's the cough that I have today.

Plus a few more interesting side effects.

Such as drooling on myself.  Incessantly.  When Isaac went to hug me this morning, he was sweet enough to ignore the wet spot on my shirt to the left of my mouth.  Maybe it'd dried by then, but probably not.  He tries so hard to be sweet and not make me feel disgusting when I very clearly AM.

Another weird element of today's situation is sneezing.  For some reason, I'll be in the middle of a coughing spasm and all the sudden my body wants to throw in a sneeze.  Why, on earth?  I have no idea.  It's an absolute mystery to me, because I really don't think there's anything in my house that I should be sneezing from.  Whatever.

When I was younger, I wanted to learn how to jump rope.  I happened to be in the company of an older lady who was more than willing to teach me, so she enthusiastically grabbed the rope and went at it.  Then, all the sudden, she got a funny look on her face.  Someone in the vicinity was gracious enough to point out that she'd peed herself and started laughing at (and with, thankfully) her.  I don't think I'll ever forget that day.

Good thing too, because today, I've had the opportunity to experience that same joy.  Apparently between the violent coughing, random sneezing, and trying to hold in the drool, there's just too much pressure on my insides and it has to get out somewhere... so let's pee ourselves, right?  Right.

Supposedly this inability to control your own bladder is yet another similarity between my recent medical ailments and pregnancy.  Oh joy.

We might just adopt all our children.

Your Last Card

The other day, I was talking to Mom and at some point during the conversation, she paused for a moment, then asked if I was ever afraid I wasn't going to live a long and full life.

Without any hesitations, I replied, "No."

To some of you, that answer may sound really strange.  Maybe my women have envisioned living until one-hundred, sitting on the wrap-around porch of your house drinking tea and lemonade with your gray-haired husband.  You've dreamed of getting pregnant, feeling the little life inside wiggle and kick, and are anxiously awaiting the day it pops out and you become a mother.  Many of you are still awaiting your price charming, and have fantasies of your wedding day.

Maybe my men have had ambitions of finding the woman who they trust enough to care for their their heart and yearn for the day when they can carry her away in their arms, protecting her from every danger.  You've dreamt of buying that house, that car, that yacht, and the pride you'll feel looking at it, knowing it's the prize of your labor.  You're thrilled for the day when you'll have your own 24" replica that follows you around, wearing your much-too-large underwear and socks because he wants to be "just like dad."

But what if none of that was in the cards for you?

Let's play pretend.

Let's pretend that today, you've been given your final card: a terminal disease, a fatal car crash, surgery complications, getting hit by lightening, natural causes, whatever it may be.

In a second, your future looks intensely different.  There are no more dates on the veranda, no children, no grandchildren, no pregnancies, no spouse, no wedding, no twenty-first birthday, or even for some of you, a high school graduation.  Whatever time is left on your life clock is suddenly more important than everything else.

All of those moments, those memories that you'd been looking forward to creating, why do they matter?  Is your existence the sum of those seconds?  Do those minutes define the value that you place on your life?

It's a pretty heavy thing to think about.

I've done some thinking, and for me, I'm just more excited about the promise that I have beyond those moments.  As thrilling as they may be, I trust that when God made heaven, He had me in mind and it will be SO much better than anything I might experience here.

Thanksgiving 2011

Typically for Thanksgiving, Isaac and I head out to Mama-Lynn and Howards to join the rest of the clan for overeating, movies, camping out at Best Buy for Black Friday specials, more overeating, and some naps.  This year though, none of the Chicagoans could make it.  That left the Hinton clan, the young Hintons (Isaac and I) and the Brekke family.

And unfortunately, I haven't been feeling the best since Sunday.  Whatever I've got started out as some type of fever accompanied by chills and a sore throat, mutated into a sore throat with achy hips, and then has finally come full circle as a snotty nose, semi-sore throat, and heavily mucused head region.

It's gross.  I'll save you the gruesome details... (which, normally, I wouldn't do).

Anyway, I'm still really glad to be getting to spend time with family in Iowa, even though I know I've been a lot less fun to be around.

Yesterday I slept all day.  Almost literally.  I napped on and off from the time I woke up until I fell asleep for the night.  I'll probably be doing something similar today.

The good news: Nebraska is whooping Iowa, 10-0.

So, if you feel like praying, here are a few specific requests:

• That my body will kick whatever this is out of my system.  Soon.
• That I won't have gotten anyone else sick
• For a friend of mine who seems to be having issues with her newly diagnosed MS.  Recently her body has been going numb on and off.  It doesn't sound like the doctor is thrilled about it.

The things to say thank you for:

• I'm officially done with chemo, radiation, and all that junk.
• I have one job (with an erratic income) and have an interview lined up for a second one.
• We have a loving network of friends and family that have helped us survive the last six months
• The excess weight put on during chemo seems to be falling off pretty fast (this is part vanity, but mostly thanks that we don't have to spend money on buying bigger clothes for me for work)
• Nebraska is still winning :)

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!!!

Job Situation

I've been searching for a job since a couple of weeks after chemotherapy.  I applied absolutely everywhere--and I mean everywhere.  Food service, retail, salons, hospitals, nannying... you name it, I probably applied for it.

Then, about a week and a half ago, I got a call back from Helen at Ken Paves Salon.  She was willing to offer me a position, so long as I was aware that they wouldn't be able to provide me with a clientele; I'd have to build up on my own.  That's alright by me!  I've started from the bottom before, and I'm a firm believer that doing so helps you to appreciate where you get later on.

(For you Michiganites that are interested, I'll be in the salon Tuesday and Thursday from 4-9, Wednesday from 2-6, Friday from 2-7, and Saturday from 9-2.  Call 586-416-8600 to schedule!)

However, because I don't have a clientele yet, I still need a second job that will pay the bills.  I'd kind of been giving up on finding one until this past week, and then, as usual, when it rains, it pours.

Last week I received a reply on an application I had placed for a nannying position.  Then this morning, I got a phone call from Macomb Community College to interview for a position as a Student Activities Coordinator.  About an hour or so later, a restaurant called to see if I could make it to open interviews tomorrow for a hosting position.

I always have a hard time making a good decision when I have so many options.  That's why I'm hoping God narrows this down for me.

He already started by making the restaurant interview impossible.  I had a fever, chills, sore throat, and severely achy hips last night, which led to me deciding not to go back to Michigan today.  The plan had been for me to head back this morning, be a "patient" for first year MSUCOM students, then pack up and head back to Iowa City with my husband and Kim for Thanksgiving.  However, since I wasn't feeling too hot last night, I decided to revisit that plan.

Isaac had sent me to Iowa with Zicam, which proved to be a good call on his end.  I started taking it yesterday evening and have been taking it every three hours throughout the night and thus far into the day today.  It seems to have helped with the fever, chills, and sore throats, but my hips still ache like crazy.

I tried ibuprofen, but that didn't seem to help.  I was talking with Isaac about it, and he recommended trying Tylenol instead, which I did.  I'm still not really noticing a big difference.  He thought it might be my body trying to re-adjust to producing its own white blood cells still, since this is the second time I've had achy hips and it just so happens they've occurred when I was typically getting my Neulasta shot.

Whatever the cause, I'm not a huge fan.

So.

I've been taking it easy.  Chilling on the couch by the fire, reading, napping, watching TV, and chatting with Court.  It's frustrating to still not be at one hundred percent and be able to run around doing what I'd like to do, but I am thankful that I don't have chemo anymore.  Or radiation.

Didn't See This Coming

I'm sorry that I've not written for a while now.

About a week ago, my computer screen just went black and never revived.  I tried plugging it in, not plugging it in.  I restarted it over ten times.  I did a soft system reset.  I pulled the battery out and put it back in.  I did everything I could think of.

It just stared back at me with a black screen.

Bummer.

I called Best Buy and talked with one of the Geeks.  He said that most likely, it was either my motherboard, graphics card, or my screen just went out.  No matter what, it sounded like the repairs would be costly.  Costly enough that it'd probably just be cheaper to get a new laptop.

Consequently, Isaac and I spent the next several days pricing computers because I've been working on a lot of marketing strategies for my hair stuff out here and needed to get the ball rolling on those.  The Geeks told us that the average life for a PC laptop ranges from two to three years.

As we were looking at the prices, we started to realize that really, you pay quite a bit for those few short years of laptop service.  Even if we went with the cheapest laptop available, it was $250, plus $100 for Microsoft Office, $270 for two years of black tie protection, another $100 for a data transfer from my computer to the new one.... that adds up to a minimum of $720.  And then there's tax.  Out here it's 6%, so that brings us to $763.

And then in another two to three years, it'll be another $763, plus the cost of inflation.

So we started checking out Macs.

I'll be honest, I've been against them for a while--mostly because they seem like the UGGs of the digital world.  However, I've talked to several Mac owners, and many of them have had their computer for over six years.  Some for over ten.

When we talked to the Mac guy, he said that people don't necessarily upgrade their Macs because they're having problems, but more often than not, because they simply want the latest and greatest.

I just got my first ever "cool phone."  I'll probably keep it until it breaths it last.  The same will likely happen with my laptop.  I'm not a "got to have the coolest, newest thing" type of chick.  Unless it's makeup.  Or something to do with hair.

Anyway, in the end, we decided to purchase a MacBook Pro.  It's very likely that I'll have it until it dies, and if the people that I've talked to are telling the truth, that won't be for quite a while.  It was a little bit more of an investment up front, but we did get a free $50 sleeve, the apple care for almost $100 cheaper because Isaac is a student, and $60 off the computer.

Not too shabby.

Now we'll see if I can become adept at using this thing before the next millennium.

Night Drivers

Isaac and I spent the weekend on the road.  Almost literally.  We left Michigan around 8:30pm on Friday night and arrived in Iowa at 5:30 in the morning.  We went to bed and then I got up three hours later to do hair for Kendra and Beau's wedding and finished around 1:00pm.  I dropped three of the bridesmaids off at the church, then went home to do Ike, Mom, and Dad's hair before the wedding at 5:00p.

Immediately after the ceremony, Isaac, Ike, Court, Jess, and myself had to scoot on to the reception hall quickly.  Ike was in charge of setting up the projector and computer for the slideshow and I'd volunteered Isaac and myself to plate and refill the desserts.  The reception was a lot of fun!  I love being able to chat with people and socialize with family that I haven't seen in a while.  I even ventured out to the dance floor for a little bit.  I had a few heart palpitations or something while doing "The Twist," so my husband recommended I sit for a little bit but other than that my health seemed to be holding up!

By the time we hit 10:00 that night, I was just wasted tired so Ike, Court, Isaac, and I left the reception and ended up falling asleep in front of the fireplace at the farm.  Actually, Ike, Court, and I fell asleep in front of the fire and my husband went upstairs and studied for a little bit.

The next morning, we went to church, had lunch at the farm, and then hung out for a couple hours.  Around 3:00, Isaac and I jumped on the road again because we wanted to stop and have time to visit with Lynn and Howard on the way back to Michigan.

At some point while talking to the Hinton's, my job status came up and Isaac shared that I have been talking with Helen Paves, the manager of the salon that I think I want to work at.  It reminded me that I'd been meaning to ask Howard if he had a particular professional camera that he would recommend us investing in at some later date so I can digitally document my work with pictures of high enough quality to display on a website in the future.

You should have seen how excited he was.  His enthusiasm was probably equivalent to if someone had asked my dad about tractors or field work.  He ran downstairs and grabbed a camera and several lenses to let us borrow and then walked me through the basics of operating it.  In the end, I was sent home with two lenses to play with and a 250-page instruction booklet.  Needless to say, I have plenty of reading material.

After chatting with Howard and Lynn for a bit, we hopped back on the road and began the rest of the trip back home.  We talked for about four hours of the trip and then I fell asleep shortly after we switched drivers.  At 4:30 in the morning we finally arrived home.

Twenty hours of road time in a 48-hour period is just a little too much, I think.  But it was SO fun!

Here's a few pics from the wedding on Saturday!

Court and I

Isaac Jordan, practicing his smiles!! :)

Court and Mom

Jess and I.  Forgive her smile... her cheeks were really tired by this time...

Up-the-nose shot of Isaac Dean.

The lovely married folks!

Dry As A Desert

I found out yesterday that I am already about halfway through my radiation treatment!  Boo-ya!

Apparently I only have to have seventeen treatments.  There hadn't really been any side effects other than my skin being a little bit tender until yesterday--when the first manifestations of a dry-as-the-desert throat appeared.

Oh, it's dry...  Incredibly so.

For instance, yesterday it hurt to burp (unladylike, I know, but it comes with the cancer territory) because my throat was so dry that instead of just slipping out like usual, the air was getting trapped near my hyoid.  Man, was it uncomfortable!

This morning it's actually even worse.  I've spent the last hour and a half slowly but surely eating a ham and cheese sandwich.  It's not that this thing is the size of a table or anything either.  I just have to take a small bite and chew... and chew... and chew some more.  Then maybe add a little water to the mix, masticate (fancy word for chew) some more, and then swallow.  By that time, my jaw is a little tired and I feel the need to drink some more water in hopes that it will juice my throat up so the next bite doesn't take an hour too.  I've gone through three full glasses of water so far.

For a ham and cheese sandwich.  Good gravy.

The "glass half full" perspective on this is that I'll probably drop the weight I put on from chemo pretty quick!  That will make it easier for me to win the weight loss competition between my husband, father-in-law, sister-in-law, and dad... yet another positive of cancer.

On another note, we're heading back to Iowa again today for my cousin's wedding.  It's going to be a really fast trip.  Like, we'll maybe be there for twenty-four hours fast.  But it's totally worth it!  Weddings are a blast!!

Catch ya'll on the flip side!

Jessica Cooks!

Today is a monumental day.  Today is the FIRST day EVER that Jessica has cooked an entire, legitimate meal.  She made buffalo chicken soup with biscuits and cookies for dessert.

The buffalo chicken soup in progress :)

Let me give you a brief glimpse into Jessica's cooking skills.

About four years ago, she made cookies and fried them to a crisp.  My gift to her that Christmas was coupons for cooking lessons.  Thankfully I didn't think to put an expiration date on them...

Two years ago, we moved in together.  She still couldn't cook, so we struck a deal.  She contributed financially to the groceries, and I did the shopping and cooking to prevent her from starving.  During that time, I learned that she's a pro at baking--cookies and brownies, anyway.  The kicker came one night while I was talking about browning hamburger and asked her a question about it.  Her response to me?

"Ash, I don't even know how to COOK hamburger, so you're talkin' to the wrong person!"

I. Just. Died.

Needless to say, we quickly remedied the hamburger situation.

And look at her now!!!  Cooking an entire meal!  I'm so proud of her!!!  You go, Jess!

Sometimes It Hurts To Watch...

Do you have a person in your life that just doesn't seem to understand that they are loved?  One of those people that you just want to hold and shake, hug and slap all at the same time because you love them fiercely, but are so frustrated they don't see themselves how you do?  I have a few of these people in my life.  Two of them are extremely close to me.

I wish that I could give them my eyes and let them feel my heart for just a moment.  Just a few seconds.  Long enough to help them see and feel that they're loved... they're worth something.  That they're valuable.

One of them is relentless with his internal critique.  You're not good enough.  What a worthless piece of crap.  Can't you do anything right?  They won't like you when they see how you really are.  Will you ever be good enough for anyone to love?  These are the thoughts that echo in his head.  Over the years, bits and pieces of the dialogue have been revealed through the comments he makes.  The way he hangs his head when nobody is looking.  Through the shallow friendships he keeps and the heartache that time is slowly sketching on his face.

It just breaks my heart.

Like a wounded animal, he creeps just close enough to feel Love but then shies away and puts up his defenses, scared he won't be able to earn it.  He doesn't believes he deserves it, simply because he exists.  He sinks, slowly accepting that, "this is all there is."

His sensitive, fun-loving spirit has become so crusted over with layer up on layer of hurt.... sometimes I wonder when the last time he really let his guard down was... if he can even remember the last time he was himself.  His real self.  The leader who fought for what he thought was right.  The one who had friends--TRUE friends--that would do anything for him, and he would do the same for them.  The protector who fiercely defended the weak, helpless, and bullied.  The man who had enough courage to cry.

There are only shadows of him left now; bits and pieces of his character and personality that once was.  As a close friend, it's so hard not to reach out and slap him silly sometimes.  To break him of the haze that he's in and just scream at him, "You believed it once!  Why won't you believe again??"

Sometimes the conversation moves that direction.  But it's like there's a little demon sitting on his back, turning his head in a different direction.  Moving his lips to start a new conversation.  Plugging his ears and singing in his head so he has no time to think, because thinking is dangerous.  Thinking allows him to face the truth.

I pray for him a lot.  I pray that he'll let God work in him.  That his walls will crumble and he will be confident in his value, his worth, and begin to share his sweet spirit with others again.  His heart is precious.

To my dear friend (if you read this),
I hope that sometime soon, you live what you know to be true.  That you learn and believe that you are loved.  That you're special.  Because truly, you are His favorite.

Kiss Him, He's Irish!

I start radiation in about twenty-four hours.  It's 1:17am on Tuesday here, and I'll be getting my first treatment at 8:00am Wednesday.  Speaking of, I'm not sure that I've filled you in on how my appointment went last Thursday.  Let me fill you in.

To start, this was probably the first appointment ever that I've been to on time to at the Ted B. Wahby Cancer Center.  I bet the staff in oncology is SO happy that I'm done with treatment, because now I can't jam up their scheduling every other week.  Plus, they don't have to run up and down the stairs to bring the lab a new order for my bloodwork every time I forget mine--which, if we're being honest, happened probably half of the time.

Anyway, I was given the grand tour of the radiology department and then the nurse took me in to get my vitals and then ask me a million-and-one questions about how I was feeling, if I'd been having any unusual symptoms from chemo, did I have any questions about what's happened so far, etc...  She was really nice.  Maybe twenty-five, twenty-six years old with a kind of quirky, fun personality.  Immediately, I felt comfortable talking with her.  So comfortable, that I decided to ask her my secret question.

I'm sure ever since I posted my blog about my radiologist, you've all been debating if he's had a nose job too.  Well, I asked my new nurse friend if she thought he had and she just busted out laughing.  Really hard.  I was a little bit confused because I didn't know if she was laughing because she'd been wondering the same thing, or if it was because a lot of people ask.  She said I should ask him.

I decided I'd just ask him his ethnicity instead.

Now before some of you get your feathers ruffled about the ethnicity question, know this.  I have been asked if I'm part Mexican, Spanish, Mulatto, Puerto Rican, Asian (?), and Mediterranean, among a sea of others.  I wasn't asking because I'm racially biased in any way.  However, because I find the different races so fascinating, I've spent a lot of time viewing material about the various facial structures and characteristics within regional groups.  Therefore, I was pretty sure if I knew his ethnicity, I'd be able to make a pretty educated guess as to whether he'd gotten a nose job or not.

I'm not sure he's ever had anyone ask him that question before.  He paused for a second and then responded that he was black.  This was where the conversation got fun.

"No, no, no," I said.  "What's your ethnicity, your bloodline?"  He started laughing.

"Is it because of my accent?"  His accent?  Then it was my turn to laugh.

"Your accent?"  I replied.  "I don't even HEAR one."

I then took a moment to explain that I was pretty sure he wasn't straight up African American, simply based on the fact that he had a relatively light complexion with freckles--but I left out "and because the bridge of your nose is pretty narrow."

Turns out, he's mostly African American with a pinch of American Indian and IRISH.  That's where the freckles probably come from.  And the American Indian is probably a pretty strong contributor to the narrow bridge.  Before he'd told me, I'd been thinking maybe he had some non-American Indian (think Dubai) in him, but Irish blood hadn't even entered my mind.  It makes sense, though, really.

We talked for probably at least a half hour, if not forty-five minutes, about different races and how some people still see the world through color-siphoning lenses while others have made more progress in the area of racial equality.  It was pretty sweet conversation.  Also, I learned that around here, a good way to get to know people is to join interest groups.  For instance, "sewing" group.  Or "first time expectant mothers" group.  (No, I'm not expecting.  It was the example he gave of a group his wife had joined)

So I might try that.  If I can ever figure out where these groups are, anyway.

End of story--I don't think he's had a nose job.  And now I know where his freckles most likely came from.

What Do YOU Think?

Hello friends!!

Today's blog is to ask you to please participate in a poll.  I am considering buying a domain name and starting up a website that advertises my skills as a hairstylist--primarily, a stylist that travels to brides.

However, before I buy a name, I want to make sure that it fits three criteria:

1. It flows off the tongue smoothly
2. You have a hard time forgetting it
3. It's easy to spell

Go ahead and cast your vote!  The poll is located in the upper right-hand corner of my blog and will be up until November 6th.

P.S. If you could pass this along to your friends, post it on your Facebook, or re-Tweet it, I would appreciate it a TON!  The more people participate, the better feedback I get--which hopefully translates to a good business decision.

THANK YOU!!

What Will They See?

This morning I was wondering.  In the not-too-distant future, what will my kids think when they look back on my digital footprints?

Will they think I was a geek?  Smart?  A snob?  Compassionate?  Superficial?  Crazy?

Obviously only so much of who I am can be shown through pictures and text, but of what is shown, what does it say?

I'm sure it will reveal somewhat where my priorities were at each step in time.

Already, looking back though my profile pictures in Facebookland, I can see that very drastic changes have happened in the past five years.  For instance, check out this picture.  And then read the title on it.

Yep.  You read it right.  It does, indeed, say "my bro and his girl."  As awkward as it is for me to vocalize now, at that point in time I thought I was so cool.  Let me explain why.

You see, for some time I've been a stickler for correct grammar.  I didn't realize it for sure until entering college after spending the past several years underlining the noun and/or pronouns, double-underlining verbs, crossing out prepositional phrases, circling adjectives, and drawing arrows from the adverb back to the verbs they were describing (thank you, homeschooling).

I'm so much in love with it that I actually thoroughly enjoy editing papers and creating a red-pen masterpiece over someone's draft.  It pains me to use abbreviations and the number "2" instead of typing out "two" in my blog, texts, Tweets, and Facebook status. My teeth automatically clench and inwardly I cringe when I see people abuse "their," "they're," and "there."

And yet, I labeled that picture, "my bro and his girl."

Ugh.  Can you say barf?

However, even to this day, I know what was going on in my head when I wrote that exact caption.  I was trying to fit the mold for what I thought an African American boyfriend would like.  It's embarrassing to say for some reason, but I'm just putting it out there, since it's probably not all that difficult for those of you who knew me during that time to figure out anyway.  I have no idea why, but I know it drove my parents crazy for a while.  They used to always say to me, "Do you know you're white?"

Yes.  I knew.  But I've just always been more attracted to boys with a beautiful, permanent tan.  And African American hair is so cool!  Regardless of my reasons, I was on the hunt to find me a sweet caramel hubby.  Thankfully, this was one of those instances where my priorities apparently aligned with God's, because Isaac's got one of the nicest tans I've ever seen.

A good example of my African American hair infatuation.  This was during my first week of freshman year at Iowa State.  I had wanted some microbraids, but wasn't about to pay $100 or so for someone else to do them so I Googled how to do them and then sat in the attic for 9 straight hours putting them in.  I'd do it again.

My friend, Natalie, jokes about my infatuation.  She refers to me as her, "gangster friend," or something like that, because when I met her... well, I thought I was a gangster.  Granted, I had NO idea what a real gangster was... it just sounded exciting.

Good gravy!  Writing this blog is a smidge embarrassing!!

But it's the truth!!!  I thought that I was some kind of bad-a$$ because I bought my Baby-Phat clothes out of a hustler's trunk, could braid some wicked cornrows, and understood ebonics while a lot of my fairer-skinned friends couldn't.

Oh my lord.  I can't believe I'm confessing to all of this.

But then again.  It's not like you couldn't tell what was running through my head.  I mean, seriously?  At the time I thought nobody could tell...  but who was I kidding?

Glory almighty.

I'll have to save my adventures for some other time, because right now I'm already blushing and shaking my head, remembering all of this.  I just can't even get over it.

Someday my kids are going to look at me and say, "Mom, what the heck were you thinking??"

I'll just going to have to tell them, "I don't know sweetie.  I don't know..."

It'll be interesting.  That's for sure.

Sick And Happy

I'm sick.  Just putting that out there.  The snotty nose and hot ears last night have revealed themselves to be some sort of crap.  I'm at least grateful, though, that this is on the tail-end of my last chemo session.  That means that, even if I have to be hospitalized or something because my counts aren't as high as they would like, I'm not necessarily delaying my treatment.  Thank you, God

AND...  I'm SO, SO, SO glad that I don't have any more treatments!! 

Anyway, to fill you in on my heart this morning.

Last night I went to bed really sad.  I was feeling super hurt and unloved and was having a really intense conversation with God when my husband walked in to check on me.

I had so many mixed feelings when he walked in.  A part of me was glad, because I wanted to know that he at least cared.  Another part of me was angry.  The little devil in me was thinking, "Oh, so NOW that I'm going to sleep, he wants to talk.  His terms, his time.  Of course."

I'd already been crying and if you combine that with my snotty nose... well, I'm pretty sure when he asked if I was alright, my frog-voice gave away the fact that I wasn't.

We talked about the shirts.
We talked about my feelings.
We talked about his feelings.

And I felt SO much better.  And bad at the same time.

You see, last night I had been so hurt that he wasn't talking to me, that I'd given it my all and tried not to talk to him either.  I'd avoided eye contact, walked as far away from him when I passed where he was sitting, tried to look like I was busy doing stuff...

He thought I was mad about something and that I was trying to cool off.

I can see how my actions could translate as angry to anyone outside my mind.  Absolutely.

But then I felt like a jerk for thinking the things I had about him.  About our marriage.

Isaac said it was okay.  I'm not a jerk.

It's amazing how when your spouse says something like that, it means so much.

We continued to talk and talk and talk.  We communicated.  I love when that happens.  You can be in the same room with your husband all day long (I know this from experience) and never actually communicate.  You can have a conversation, and it will have all essentially been empty words.  Last night was not one of those instances.

Everything was discussed, including things that were in no relation to the shirt incident, and at the end of the conversation, I felt so much more loved.

Thank You, God.  For caring enough about me to give me a good husband who, despite the mistakes that he's made in the past (and I've made them too), wants to work on our marriage.  Who was gentle with my heart last night when I so desperately needed it.  And thank You, for not giving up on me.  For loving me, especially.


And P.S. please help this sickness to go away without any hospitalizations and such.  Thank You.

My Roses Are Dying

I have to apologize before I even get into this one.  It's probably going to be a little bit of a downer.  I just don't feel good.

I have a snotty nose, my ears feel hot (like I'm probably getting sick), I've been sneezing all day long, my left nostril has been slowly leaking blood since about a month after I started chemo, I got poked with a needle SEVEN times today in order to get my blood drawn for my MUGA scan, and my husband hasn't said a word to me since I got home.

I have no idea as to why I might be getting sick--especially since I'm still essentially on lockdown in the apartment.  Okay.  So it's not really lockdown, but I don't go anywhere because I don't know people.

Timeout.  That's a lie.  I know Kim.  And hopefully I'll get to know her better.  However, I'm unfortunately one of those people who takes about three to five years to cement a solid friendship and until it hits about that time, I feel like I'm imposing.  And I hate doing that.  I know people have their own stuff going on.

And my left nostril.... I waxed my nose hairs not too long after starting chemo and ever since then every time I blow my nose there is blood in my mucus.  I know, I know.  It's my fault.  I feel like it should probably be healed by now, though.  I mean, really, it's been four months!

Whatever.

I'm not sure what the heck was going on with the people who were drawing my blood today.  The girl who tried it the first three times in the crook of my right arm said that, "she doesn't usually have a problem with sticking people."

I'm not convinced.

Lee, the tech who tried after the girl, poked me another four times.  Twice in the same spot as the girl had tried, once in the crook of my left arm, and then he finally got it in my rookie vein on my left arm.  Of the seven times that I got stabbed, they "fished" for my vein four times.  Ouch, ouch, ouch.  It hurts to even bring my right arm up all the way, not to mention that the bruises from my battle are probably going to make me look like I've been shooting up crack or something come tomorrow.

As for my husband, I threw out his brown pit-stained white undershirts earlier today and replaced them with some new ones that I bought him over a month ago.  He's upset because apparently he wore them to work out in.  He asked me why I tossed them and I told him that personally, I think that pit stains on white shirts are very un-sexy and I find him more attractive in stain-free tees.  We got into a semi-heated text message conversation after that and I apologized.

I'm not even sure why.  Probably because I don't like it when he's unhappy with me.

I find myself getting irritated, both with Isaac and with myself, because I feel like whenever we get into an argument, I'm the one who ends up apologizing.  And he's perfectly fine with doing what he's doing today--not talking to me--until I initiate.

Marriage is a LOT harder than I thought it would be.  I found that I was pep-talking myself a lot today.

Love him like God, Ashley.  Love him like God.

Oh it just kills me sometimes, though!  That moment when I feel so hurt by him is usually when I start thinking crazy things.  I debate just walking out and driving back to Ames because at least I feel wanted there.  Or filing for divorce.  It's easy to understand why the rates for it are so high.  But then I remember I don't believe in divorce.  And that's where the semi started entering the picture.

Today I was reading Jessica's blog though.  It was one that she wrote a while ago.  One where I kind of had to smack her in the head about how she was acting, and if I remember correctly, the phrase that I used with her was "Put on your big girl panties and do it anyway."

Re-reading it felt like a two-by-four to the head tonight.

Because if I sit down and think about it, when I was being a pickle, God didn't just quit loving me.  He didn't say, "Well, Ashley, you're being kind of an asshole right now, so I'm going to check out."  Nope.  Sometimes I kind of (but not really) wish He had, so then I wouldn't feel so bad if I did it to someone.

Dear God, help me to love unconditionally.

The Next Step

Hallelujah!  I am finally done with chemotherapy!!!

Next up: radiation!  I'll be going in this Thursday to get mapped.  I'm not entirely sure what that consists of, other than my doctor said they'd be making a cast of my upper body so that I lay exactly the same each time, tattooing me with little dots, and possibly (if needed) creating something to lock my head in place each time too.

I must confess, I really didn't pay all that much attention to what was being said while my radiation doctor was talking.  He seemed to be a really sweet guy, but I was trying to figure out if he'd had a nose job.  I'm just about positive he is primarily African American in descent, but the bridge of his nose was WAY too narrow and straight for it to be natural.  Plus, the tip was thinner as well, which leads me to believe he's had surgery on it.  It does seem to show all that much in this picture, but in real life--trust me.  Looks like rhinoplasty.

I asked Isaac if he thought it was rude to ask doc if he'd had surgery.

He said "Yes.  Don't do that."

Fine.

I guess I'll never know for sure.  I could try one of those beat-around-the-bush conversations and be like, "so, I'm looking for a good facial surgeon... do you know any?"  But that'd probably be really awkward.  I'm guessing he'd pick up on what I was really asking.

I really have no reason to NEED to know either.  I'm just nosy.

Anyway, so yes.  Radiation stuff starts happening on Thursday.

I'll also be getting another MUGA scan on Tuesday.

I've been having odd sensations in my heart area, and I'm a tad concerned that the chemo drugs might have done something to it.  So I'm getting it checked out.

The first time I noticed it was probably right after my fifth session.  I was sitting on my parents couch and all of the sudden it felt like my heart was floating inside itself.  Like it was trying to swim, but it was drowning or something.  It's very hard to describe.  Since then my weird heart feelings haven't been as obvious or intense, but I still do get them.

It very easily could just be the cord from my port flapping around in my Superior Vena Cava (big vein that going straight into the heart).  And if that's the case--I'll be elated, because that means once this port comes out, my heart things will stop.  But if that's not the case, I guess I'd rather know sooner than later.

I'm also going to a counselor on Tuesday.  I actually feel much better now than I did last week, but this intense fluctuation of emotions... I'm not sure how to manage it or what to do with it.  So I'm going to talk to someone about it.

Also, Isaac and I are going to go through "The Five Love Languages" by Gary Chapman.  He doesn't like to read (because he already has to read so much for school) so I am going to read it to him.  We want to learn how to love each other better, because after this week, I came to realize that maybe I haven't been doing that great of a job at speaking to him in a language that is most natural to him.

Renovating

For the past five months, Isaac have been spending a majority of our time in what I dubbed "the hospital."  We had white carpet, white walls, white ceilings, and white hospital-like light.  It was making me crazy.  Actually, a lot of things were contributing to my mental issues, but I truly believe that this was one of them.

It just didn't feel like home.

Mama-Lynn came out for my last chemotherapy treatment (YAY to both!!!!) and I was feeling exponentially better than I had for any of the treatments before.  Thank you, thank you to all of you who prayed that this one would be easier.  I appreciate it so much, and it WAS!

Because I was feeling so fantastic, Mama-Lynn and I spent a good chunk of Thursday painting the longest wall in Isaac and I's apartment this lovely green color.  The problem was, it wasn't the shade of green a person (other than my dad) would want to live in.  It was a slightly muted version of John Deere Green.

I miss the tractors and such, but not enough to have our living room that color.

We hadn't anticipated this problem, so we'd purchased four gallons of color, planning to paint the entire living room this color.  Thank goodness I belong to a merciful God who knows we're trying to keep our expenses down and who is also aware that sometimes I'm an idiot.

Mama-Lynn and I went back to Lowe's and they refunded us all but one bucket (the one we had used) and even were kind enough to exchange the ones that we brought back for much lovelier shades.

That sweet, sweet, lady at the paint counter.  She worked a miracle for us.  We went in with John Deere Green and came out with "Covered Wagon," "Earthy Cane," and "Willow Tree."  Colors that were MUCH easier to work with--and they matched the rug I'd found on sale the week before!

The rug that started it all :)

We gave up Thursday night and Friday morning spend the ENTIRE day taping and painting.  We learned quite a few tricks--but hopefully neither of us will be needing to utilize them again in the very near future.  I'm still a little high off the fumes.

The goal was to turn our giant "hospital" room into a room that was kind of split into two, but not definitively.  We created a beautiful workspace for Isaac and got him a comfortable office chair and mounted a corkboard on the wall for him so he can stick all his notes and such into it (until now, things have just been getting pinned directly into the wall).  His workspace is also close to the kitchen table, which is lovely, because when he gets tired of his desk, he likes to switch it up and study at the table sometimes.

Already putting it to good use....

The most dramatic change was in the living room.  We now have an area rug that breaks up all the white-ness of the carpet, we invested in an entertainment center/electric fireplace that is a piece of "Iowa home" for me, and we re-arranged the furniture that we already had to create this cozy little nook.  Mana-Lynn and I spent probably a good two hours trying to assemble the silly thing... but in the end it was worth it because not only do we have this cool-looking fake fire, now we actually have a REAL entertainment stand, which means that my coffee table (what we'd been using) was now free to actually use as a coffee table!!

It was also fun to finally be able to pull out of storage all of the little candles and wall decorations I'd kept away, simply because before, they'd have looked awfully funny on our white walls.

Where I will probably spend a lot of my time from now on.

I feel like I live here now.  Like... I live here, with my husband, and it is our home.  Not a hotel room that we're renting for an extended period of time.

God bless the man who invented paint and fake fire.  They does wonders.

Last Chemo!

Wednesday will be my last chemotherapy session ever.  Lord-willingly, anyway.

I'm excited.  I haven't had as bad of an experience as some people, but it's still not an experience that I think I would have ever picked out for myself.  Or for my husband.  Or for our marriage.

Physically, it hasn't been all that hard.  Once the claw-hand went away and we figured out a pretty good regime of drugs, things got a lot easier.

Every two weeks, I went in, they hooked me up and filled my body with toxins.  Then I slept for three to four days, save for eating and relieving myself in the bathroom.  Sunday night was usually a little bit uncomfortable, Monday I feel more like myself, and by Tuesday I am normal again.  Then I'd have a good week before it all began again.

And thankfully this will be my last session.

Please, God.  Please, let it be my last session ever.

I've thought about what it would be like to be cured of the cancer and then to have it come back in a couple of years.  Oh, how hard it'd be to do this all again.  The physical.  The emotional.  The psychological.

The darn saline.

Really, the saline is the worst.  Even thinking of it....  well... I just ate, so I don't want to.

I'm curious to find out how radiation feels.  I'll be getting "mapped" next week on Thursday (I believe) which involves them giving me a tattoo.  A couple, actually, it sounds like.  Just little dots to help the machine line up consistently.

I always said if I ever get a tattoo it would be a tiger on my face.  Go big or go home.  Might as well make it memorable, right?  Yeah... what you're thinking right now... that's what my mom said too.  It's also why I don't have any tattoos.

I've still been having crazy thoughts about suicide and such.  You can pray for that.  They're not consistently there, but off and on I think them.

You can also pray for our young marriage.  It's struggling.  A lot.

A new marriage + med school + new location + cancer = lots of rough stuff.

We just need some help.  We're not doing well, but I suppose given the circumstances, it's not all that surprising.  Just pray, please.

Pray that I can figure out how to love my husband, even when all I want to do is close my eyes and never wake up.  Pray that I remember to hold my tongue, especially when it wants to spew out hurtful things because I am hurting.  Pray that on the days that I feel I can barely endure, that I remember to talk to God, because He loves me more than I will ever understand.  And pray that I remember to pray, because some days, it's just really hard.

I love Isaac.  I really do.  I just don't know that I've been doing very good at showing him.  I think part of it is the drugs messing with me.  And the other part of it is just me.  I'm human.  I fail.  Every day.

This is the part of life where I look up and remember my vows.  My promise to God.  My promise to my husband.  And I have to take all of my emotions and set them aside and focus on the fact that I need to love him more like God loves me.

Unconditionally.  Every day.  Drugged or not.  With or without cancer.  Rain or shine, whether it is reciprocated or not.  Putting my all into it, because I promised to do it, for richer or for poorer.  In sickness and in health.  Through the good and the bad.

It's just that right now is harder than it will be other times.

Radiation

The verdict is in regarding whether I'm going to do radiation or not.  

I struggled with this for a little bit, the reason being because I have read about the potential consequences of radiation long term.  Increased chances for breast cancer and lung cancer.  Possibility of mutations in my DNA, which consequently, could possibly be passed on to my kids.  Increased risk of heart disease.  Hypothyroidism.

I've kind of been wondering whether that's worth it.  I feel like I have to pick between two evils.  No radiation, and "they" say that the cancer has a much higher chance of coming back.  Radiation, and I'm intentionally increasing my chance of a different cancer or other health problem down the line.  It's kind of difficult to decide.

And I believe in an all-powerful, healing God.  So if He wants me to be healed without radiation, I will be healed.  And if, for some reason, the cancer is supposed to come back, it will whether I've had radiation or not.

But then there's this joke that I've heard.  It goes something like this.

A man is drowning in the ocean and prays to God to save him.  A boat passes by and offers to help him, but the man declines, waiting for God to do His thing.  A second boat comes by and offers to help him, but again, the man refuses, still anticipating rescue from God.

He drowns and dies.  When he gets to heaven, he asks God, "God, why didn't you save me?"  God looks at him and says, "What are you talking about?  I sent you two boats!"

I guess my struggle is in recognizing whether radiation is a boat or not.

Since there's no clear sign, einey-miney-miney-mo will have to do.  Just kidding.  Kind of.

For now, I suppose I'll pick radiation.  Hopefully I don't regret that by my fortieth birthday.

Normal

Do you ever have days where you "decide" something?

I do.  Probably 5-7 of them per week.  But then something will happen and I will change my mind about what I "decided" because I learned something new.  Or because I'm human.

A couple of weeks ago when I wrote the blog about being depressed I had decided that I was plumb crazy.  Completely off my rocker.  Today, while driving back to my Iowa home, I decided that no, I am not plumb crazy, I'm completely normal.

It's normal to be completely happy one moment and cry the next.
It's normal to have conversations with yourself in your head.
It's normal to wonder if you're crazy.

Today I also decided that this is probably the result of living in a place that is so far from perfect.

I have two confessions that I have to make, both of them having to do with my realization of how crazy things in this world are.

Confession #1: I watched Jersey Shore this week. (I promise, I am NOT a regular viewer... this was maybe the first or second entire episode I've seen.)
Confession #2: I bought and listened to Christina Aguilera's album, "Bionic."

Now, I'll admit, I did watch almost the entire episode of Jersey Shore.  It was heartbreaking, sad, angering, and mind-blowing all at the same time.  When I wasn't busy fussing at the characters through the TV screen, I was relaying to Isaac how amazed I was at the disconnect in the logic and actions of the people on the show.

People demanding that others not tell them the truth because "it hurts their feelings."

A young woman refusing to see the correlation between her public nudity and her boyfriend leaving as consequence for her actions; instead, she blames him for not loving her "as she is."

Men taking advantage of intoxicated women who won't remember what happened in the morning.

Another young woman sobbing about the disgrace she'll bring on her parents if she's pregnant, meanwhile appearing to see no connection between that same disgrace and the broadcast of her drunkenness and casual sexual relationships to the world via TV.

The list goes on and on.  I don't even think I could make a comprehensive list of all that was wrong on that show... it just came, one thing after another, no end in sight.

I didn't even listen to all of Christina's album.  I've been a die-hard fan of her beautiful voice for years and in my younger days, sang-along to some of her raunchy songs in my rebellion.

Today I had to fast-forward through at least eleven of the eighteen songs on the CD.  The lyrics were bad enough that my ears cringed and tried to close themselves.  They were just downright abrasive.  There were probably three songs that were good enough to keep.  I'll download them to my computer later and then razor the disc and toss it.

And this is "normal."

Maybe I'm not as normal as I thought...

If that's what it is, I don't think I want to be.  It's raining enough crazy juice outside I find myself wondering if I really want to have kids.

Jersey Shore only started a year or two ago.  What in the world is going to be on TV when my little ones are my age?  And how do you explain to them the break between reality and what they see on the screen?

Even Madonna won't let her kids watch TV--that's saying something.

Toothache

Lately I've been having awful pains in my molars.  It feels like I have a cavity (or several) but I know that can't be the case because I've been brushing my teeth regularly and even using ACE mouth wash more than I had previously.

This morning it was bothering me really bad so I asked Isaac if it were possible that this was a side effect of the chemo.  And of course, yes it is.  Once again, since my teeth are fast-replicating cells, I'm bound to some level of pain.

It feels like all the molars in my mouth are loose.  But they're not.  Believe me--I tried yanking on them.

On a different note, I can't wait to get started on the photoshoot come Tuesday!  Hopefully the end product will be something fabulous enough to get me hired in a salon out here.  We can hope.

P90X

Numbers, schmumbers.... right?  Wrong.

Especially when everyone and their dog tells you going into chemo that you'll "probably lose some weight", "try to keep the food down", "your appetite will decrease..." etc.

Just like how they say your hair will all fall out.

I guess I'm just a backwards case of Hodgkin's because I've piled on over 15 lbs during chemo and still have probably around half of my hair.

I'm not complaining about my hair, this is more the story that I'll be sharing with you of how I am going to try to lose those 15 lbs that latched onto me like a fat kid onto free strawberry-glaze waffles.

I had chemo again a couple days ago--Wednesday-to be specific, and have been sleeping ever since.  I woke up this morning feeling pretty good.  Pretty fat, but pretty good.  So I decided, what the heck?  Why wait to work on these pesky pounds?  I have to wait for everything else throughout this darn chemo process.  I'm not going to wait to work on my mid-section.

If only it were as simple as that.

I popped in the P90X DVD and started off with the first workouts.  Pushups, after pushups, after pushups...  And this dang thing is an HOUR long!  Of course, he's got this cute little Russian chick in the video.  You know her.... the one, who, as he goes around the room asking who will do how many reps, she outdoes everyone by one.  Yep.  I've been that chick, so I think, okay... I'm still doing chemo... I can probably do about 75% of what she's doing.

WRONG.

Twenty minutes into the program and I'm laying face down on the floor, my butt straight up, gasping for air, and silently cursing Mr. Peppy-Man on my screen.  I was seeing stars, holding down my dinner from last night.... ugh... it was all there...

"....c'mon you can do one more... look at me!  I set my goal at fifteen, but I'm going to PUSH through it and do twenty instead..."

So I manned-up for the next twenty minutes and was surviving alright, until he explained that everything we'd just done--we're going to do it again.  Kill me.

Meanwhile, miss cool chick is still pounding it out, looking nice and sweaty and I swear I can SEE the pounds just sliding from her skin.  Meanwhile I'm sprawled out all over the floor as my husband walks in the door, turning his head quickly so I can't see him smiling.

I saw it.

To sum it up.  I am NOT in as good of physical shape as I was when I left Ames five months ago.  I'm unfortunately not even about half.

When I'd finished my workout, I went and soaked in the ice cold tub, garbage can beside me (just in case), and my dear husband mixed me up a protein shake to drink in the tub while I shed some tears, mourning my current psychical state.

The best words he could have said came out of his mouth while I was feeling defeated and trying to hold the puke back.... "babe, I still think you're sexy."

The tears came a little bit quicker then.  There's something about looking and feeling your absolute worst and having your spouse look at you and say, "Hey, it's okay... I still love you just how you are."

So the gist of the post is this: losing weight is hard, P90X is my poison of choice, and I WILL be twenty pounds lighter by Thanksgiving.  Or at the very worse, by Christmas.  And I'll have my handsome strong husband to prod me along at some times, and other times, drop me a protein shake while I'm bawling in the bathtub.  Oh, how I love him!

Looking Up

My mental shift from the last blog until this one has taken (once again) a very different turn.  I got to go back to Iowa for a week, hang out with my in-laws for a few hours, meet with my design guru and start developing a plan for the photoshoot, visit as many friends as I felt I could handle, go to the hair show with the girls (minus Emily because she's PREGNANT!), nap by the fireplace at mom and dad's on Sunday, and then had a pretty rainy drive back home to Michigan.

Let me say, the hair show was a BLAST this year!  I went to seminars by Schwarzkopf, Surface, Redken, Mizani, a Moonlighting Taxes workshop, the list goes on and on.  This was the first year that I've gone, searching for things to learn, rather than just being there because I had to for school hours.  I LOVED IT!!!

My first new love was from Schwarzkopf.  They have a new line out called Essensity, which is a much more ecologically friendly line.  The scientists at Schwarzkopf went through their color and took out as many of the harmful elements as they could (parabens, sulfates, ammonia, formaldehyde derivatives, and alcohol) to get a color that is MUCH less harmful to your health and the world but still delivers top notch color.  Because this line is much more eco-friendly than probably any of the other color lines out there (that I've heard of ) it is a little bit more expensive, but if it works as well as they say it does, the small price increase won't even deter green-conscious clients.

In addition, Surface is a relatively new brand--three years young--that is also in the forefront of eco-friendly products.  They don't carry any colors, but are an all-natural, organic, vegan, styling line that have already been receiving a lot of attention from Hollywood.  The man in charge of Surface, Wayne Grund, used to be working with another doctor on their baby, Grund.  Apparently Wayne had a change of heart about the Grund line when he started to realize how many harmful toxins are in the styling products that we use today, and since to date, his entire family is in the industry, he wanted to crate something that was non-toxic.  He wanted it to be something that respected your personal health and respected mother earth.  I messed around with it a little bit and am severely interested in purchasing some, but probably will have to wait until the next hair show when I actually have hair and can justify it.  One other thing I found cool about Surface is that they donate 10% of their profits to World Vision--I've personally funded kids through world vision before and so I was SO excited to hear this!!  It's the icing on the cake!

Now to Redken.  Those of you who know me know that I hate Redken for these few simple facts.  The color is crap and always pulls extremely warm, the reds don't hold worth a dang, and their whole system seems to be set up as a money-making machine that just eats up both your client's hair and their wallet.  Don't get me wrong, you can still walk out with beautiful hair, but in order to keep it that way, you'll be paying for regular, in-salon treatments, at home treatments, pre-and post-blowdrying serums, hairspray, etc... and it just adds up pretty quick.  However, I will give them this though. They have the technical stuff down in this business and they keep things fashionably current.  As in, if you go in for a haircut, they will pull up a chart that shows them EXACTLY how they did your haircut last time.  This is something that is relatively uncommon with many hairstylists.  That's why many of us instead will ask what type of "feel" you like.  We can work off feelings, but exact replications are extremely difficult.  Period.  I'm going to be working on that.... once I figure out where to buy those head charts.

Now to my current excitement.  The very talented Andrea Dahlberg, from Andrea Dahlberg Photography, has volunteered her services (for a fee, of course) to help me crate a dynamic, stand-out leave behind for when I start going on salon interviews in the (hopefully) near future.  For those of you who don't know what that is, a leave behind is kind of like a mini-portfolio that you leave behind with an interviewer that lets them keep a taste of what you can do, without having to leave your ACTUAL portfolio behind.

I. am. stoked!!!!!

We'll be creating a three-picture portfolio, as well as including on the back of the board my name, information, and what I specialize in.  The goal is to keep it beautiful, simple, but to the point.

In addition, this next time that I'm back I'll be getting to help with harvest!!! :) :)  Aka... running the combine when needed, but probably more so, running the auger cart.  I used to not like it so much when I lived closer to home and HAD to do it...  Now that I'm almost 700 miles away, I'm excited to come back and help my dad out in that way!

Lastly, for those of you who read the last blog... don't worry.  I've not done anything stupid, nor do I plan too.  Crazy thoughts will probably still come and go, but I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, trusting God Almighty that there is a reason for it all.

After all, we only have two hopes in this world.  Satan, or Jehovah-Yahweh.  There is no middle ground in this world, and there never will be.  We are either for Satan, or against him.  I choose to be against him, to call on the Lord to help me take my crazy thoughts captive and allow Him to comfort me and heal me during those moments where the devil has wormed his way into my thoughts.

I can't imagine trying to do it on my own.

I love you all and can't wait til the next time I see your beautiful faces!!

So, Yeah.

Hello, Iowa!  I'm coming back!  (Yes, again.)

I have a good reason this time, too.  Not that I need to create a reason to go to my Iowa home.  When all else fails, I can use cancer as the reason.  Just another upside to it, I guess.

However.  This time, I am coming back for A HAIR SHOW!!!  Wahoo!!

Having not been able to consistently do hair for the past five months has made me a little bit nervous that I'm losing my touch, but I'm doing everything (aka, looking at lots of pictures and asking myself how I would get that result) in my power not to become a dummy.  Thankfully I've been allowed to do a couple of Isaac's peers and it's been keeping me on my toes.

I spent three hours today driving to get my hands on Keune color.  Ridiculous.

Oh, and for those of you out there who care, Salon Centric does NOT carry all of the same brands from state to state.  For instance, in Iowa, they carry Schwarzkopf, which is comparable to Keune.  Well guess what?  In Michigan, there is only ONE store in the ENTIRE STATE that carries it.

And it's an hour and a half away with traffic.

Ten minutes away from the place that carries Keune.

Shoot me.

I bought a variety of colors today so that the next time I need color, I don't have to drive halfway back to Iowa to get it.

Anyway, the gist of this post is that I'm super excited to:
  a) come back to Iowa again, as I'm desperately lonely out here
  b) go to a hair show

By the way, if you're wondering what you might be able to pray for, pray for me and depression.  Once upon a time, I had a conversation with my best friend, who I emphatically told that "I don't believe in depression," only to find out that he had struggled with it for years seconds later.

And, once again, I find myself wanting to go back in time and insert my foot in my mouth during that conversation.  I think it's real, and I think I'm dealing with it.

There's something wrong when you're driving down the highway, contemplating whether you want to go home to endure another day or try to get hit by a semi.  It's just not "normal."  Or maybe it is and I've just never experienced it until now.  Either way, I need to figure out what to do with it.  It's not a consistent thing, but it does come and go rather frequently the longer I'm out here.

And obviously, since I've never dealt with this before, I'm just mentioning it rather casually because I'm not sure what to do with it.  Don't mistake that for sarcasm.

And yes, a lot of you close to me will be surprised to read this, because I haven't mentioned it at all, save to one person.

Again, I'm just not sure what to do with it.  Do I mention it?  Do I not?  No clue.  I'm a little nervous to post this, just because I'm not sure what the response will be from certain people who I care about.

The blog is supposed to help me be transparent, to share my thoughts that I either can't, or don't want to verbalize.  So there it is.

In the meantime, I'm just hanging out.