My brain is bubble gum. Original flavor.

Earlier tonight Mojo told me that my brain was just made of a gazillionty pieces of ABC bubble gum.

She says, "you know, the kind that tastes like bubble gum?"

"As opposed to what? The kind that doesn't taste like bubble gum?"

"OMG Mom, duh, the kind that doesn't taste like bubble gum is all gross like cotton candy or watermelon." (now go back and read that sentence as if an 8 year old valley girl was saying it to you with her hand on her hip and a little sass in her tone) She said with her nose all puckered up like something smelled bad.

So, that's my brain. ABC gum. Lots of it. That explains a lot. Really, if that were true the last few years would be totally explainable and maybe even normal. Except the cancer part, that's not very normal. But the rest could be. You know me well enough and you know exactly what I'm talking about. If you happen to also be on my late night, not entirely coherent, text circuit... well, you are just lucky. It's a treat. And, you know exactly how much fun it is to crawl inside this head and jump around in it, like a bounce house. There's a lot of hot air, some weird mesh fabric to keep things in and other things out, some duct tape patching up a few holes, and a few turrets because those houses are always shaped like sad little castles.

Today was a day worth forgetting until about 4:30pm. In fact, I really don't remember much of what happened today except for an "I love you" text that I totally needed when it came in because there could have been no better time to be reminded of that than that very moment. And, oh, my most favorite developer of all time ever quit today. But, around 4:30, after I had given some blood for more testing, eaten a digestive biscuit (my oncologist keeps HobNobs in his desk) and then vomited that precious biscuit in to my very own tiny little bucket, my doctor handed me a 44oz Diet Coke with pebble ice. And, then, he told me that I wasn't crazy because he knew crazy and it was in the form of a Polly Pocket sized, spray tanned orange, platinum blonde extension wearing, woman who had visited him an hour before with a stack of literature that she'd printed off of some online resource. In that stack she believed that she could prove that all of her symptoms would lead him to believe that she had leukemia.

After a full exam and some very quick tests he was able to tell her that she had some odd things in her blood stream and asked her if she had implants. Apparently in a very short amount of time he was able to narrow her symptoms down to toxic shock and was able to locate a leak in one of her giant implants.

Based on his play by play, this was her reaction:

"That's not possible, I went to the very best plastic surgeon in Las Vegas for these. I probably should have someone with more experience with this tell me exactly what this is."

And, this was his:

"I can assure you that there are few doctors in the state that have seen as many leaky implants as I have.   You have a leak. It is compromising your blood. If you don't take care of this now it will get worse and lead to any number of problems."

Her answer:

"Can't you just patch it?"

Yes, she won the booby prize for the day. I got the giant Diet Coke and confirmation that my brain is made of bubble gum.

Leaky fake boobs kind of gross me out. Thankfully I had a bucket handy.

W

My kids are stupid awesome.

On Sunday morning I piled my kids in to the car and drove up the mountain to Sundance for a little breakfast and some quiet time away from what is THE WORST WEEK in the history of weeks. Maybe you've had worse weeks. Maybe. I doubt it. But, try me.

Mine went something like this. Death. Cancer. Chemo. Surgery. Stitches. Radiation. Chemo. Wal Mart. Death. Dancing. Crying. Insomnia.


The details are fascinating. I promise. But, I'm still not sure how I want to remember the mess. So, I'll just tell you that in all of the drama of the week, while I felt helpless and a little bit out of control, my kids were pretty remarkable. And, in all of her grief, the little one with fresh stitches lifted me and comforted me and told me "sometimes some of us just get all the hard stuff because other people will freak the heck out." She's a wise one. 

The last couple of years have mostly.... sucked. My kids learned quickly how to handle things my parents had a hard time dealing with. Cancer is scary. Mom's with cancer are super scary. Big changes at home are unsettling and can cause kids years of worry. They understand fear and grief. They have endured plenty of both. And they surprise me everyday with how much they do to overcome both... every single day. My champion dancer, and my middle blondie with freckles for days and humor for miles, and my boy who learned to cope early by putting everything in to his drawings. My kids are stupid awesome.


Today I miss my tiny dog who died last Saturday. I didn't realize how much I loved him and how much space he really filled in our home. It is quiet now. My kids are so noisy, but it is still quiet without him there. Last summer I went through six solid weeks of chemotherapy. It was my first summer home full time.... ever. It should have been so fun. But, I was sick.

Fenway - The day we brought him home.

We spent many hours piled in my big bed watching movies last summer. That tiny dog never left me. He knew. It was like he needed to be there to hear that I was OK. On nights I wasn't OK, he would bark and wake up the whole house if I woke up and needed something. He knew. As I near hard days like those again, I miss his comfort. Instead, I have a 35 lb kid with a huge head climbing up next to me in the dark and snuggling his giant head in to my neck. He talks in his sleep and begs for drinks in the middle of the night. Right around 2am he'll scream "I need to pee". It's a treat.


For the first time in my life I felt the creeping  depression start to find its way in. It is not a natural feeling for me and it worried me. So, naturally, I just doubled up on my "happy" pills. Kidding. I just got my running shoes out and got back on the road and it helped a lot. 

I am sad that my children have to go through so much and that I can't hide the hard things in the world from them. On the flip side, I want them to know the hard stuff early and learn how to handle it well now so that they can spend their energy on better things and overcome the shitty shit life might deal them with ease. I'm also making sure they always have a good pair of runners for the days that things blow.


-W

 

The time that my sweet non-drinking girlfriends mistakenly ordered beer at my daughter's birthday party

Last Friday I took five little girls to Pizzeria 712 for a birthday party. I also invited a few friends along. That proved to be the best decision of the year because two of my super sweet friends who do not drink beverages of the alcoholic persuasion ordered beer... accidentally.

The drinks came. The drinks were sipped. The mouths puckered. The eyes squinted at the label that said "70% beer" and I peed a little as I watched them both drain their bottles in to the plants behind them so that the waiter didn't think they were completely stupid.

 

 Just in case you were wondering, the beauty with the smoking red hot lips here on the right had a baby a mere three weeks ago and looks like a million bucks.

I love that I have girlfriends and sisters who show up on the days I need them most. I didn't know it until about an hour before that party, but I needed those women around that day. It was the morning that I found out that my cancer had spread to my colon. The day I had a meltdown at work. The day I finally broke for just a few minutes since my first diagnosis. The day I admitted I was scared. The day I decided that specific brand of beer was icky.

It was my daughter's birthday party. But, I was the one who really needed the party! I am incredibly lucky to have sisters that I love and that I love to spend time with. And friends make me laugh and let me cry and that show up and make the party. 

P.S. The eleven year old girls also love it when Aunt Mel comes because she has hot legs and guys like to flirt with her. Apparently that was the highlight of the party for the tweeners. Hear that Mel... hot legs!

No Candyasses in this circle.