Ode to Joy: Halfway to the Finish Line

One of my greatest joys in life is my group of college friends. They are an amazing, loyal, gifted, smart, and hilarious bunch of women. And over the 20 years since our graduation from Vanderbilt, we have been in the thick of it, busy experiencing life and all that comes with it.  Many of them came to Nashville this past weekend, celebrating our reunion and the common thread of discussion seemed to be how many changes we’ve experienced in two decades: some of us have become more devout, some less; some of us are more liberal now, some more conservative. We have experienced tragedy, disappointment, loss, death, addiction, cancer, divorce. But really we have experienced more than our share of happiness and joy over the past 20 years. The eight women sitting in my living room drinking wine on Friday afternoon are are the exceptional mothers to 25 children. (Sorry Sally and Susan were not in town yet when this was taken!)

 One thing I love about these women I’m lucky enough to have as friends is that they take nothing for granted. They know they are the lucky ones and they are the most upbeat and uplifting people you can imagine. I love their exceptional ability to see past shortcomings and weaknesses, through to strengths and gifts. They love me thoroughly and completely for who I am, and not for the life I lead, or what I have accomplished or not accomplished. Our friendship is a priority and we never leave a get-together without a making plan for the next. We’ve spent hours talking about everything and nothing, the frivolous and the serious, and we don’t hold back. I have never left a weekend visit without laughing so hard I cried. We are indeed a mutual admiration society, and it is a gift I did not fully appreciate until now. 

One of these precious friends, Michelle, has been through this fight with breast cancer and she was also here this weekend, bearing gifts, scarves, advice and love. I will never be able to explain to her how much her support, information (just enough not to scare me to death) and love has carried me through. She is “that person” for me and I hope I can be “that person” to someone else.

And while I’m on the subject of life’s great joys, our family enjoyed a moment of pure amazement this weekend: Brown had a flag football game, in which he caught the ball and ran the length of the field for not just one, but two touchdowns! In previous games, he’d never even touched the ball. It was a great day; his grandparents from England were cheering on the sidelines. The temperature was absolutely freezing but I am pretty sure Brown never noticed. He has been walking on sunshine ever since - I am thrilled to see his confidence soar. 

So, my hair is falling out (not so joyful) and today I have the second of four chemo treatments. I am ready for rock bottom. But, as Michelle has said, it’s only up from here on out!  I’m glad I’ll be half way to the finish line by tonight.   

As as always, thank you to all of you who continue to feed us, pray for us, ferry my children around town and keep me in your thoughts. 

Love

BK

Plus ça change...

I have been trying to come up with what to post at this point in what we fondly now call “the situation” in my life. So many of you have encouraged me to just write about what is on my mind and what I am going through, so that’s precisely what I’m going to do: 

I am learning when you have the big C, you’re pretty much indulged on every level. I have my very own coterie of servants who treat me like a queen: “What do you want to eat? Don’t you look pretty! Don’t worry about calling me back,” goes the litany of reprieve I’ve been granted for the short term. The normal rules of decorum don’t apply at the moment and the only expectation, as far as my friends go, seems to be that I heal. (I’m sure I’m supposed to view this temporary bye as an opportunity, but cancer is no “opportunity.” Opportunistic, perhaps. But that’s a rant I’ll save for another day.) And for all the moments when I feel like I’m going to lose it - and believe me, there have been plenty - I’m doubly grateful that I am allowed space to process each part of this experience without the pressure of everyday obligations.

There is one notable exception, or three, rather, to this rule: my children. Their needs don’t take a back burner position in our household during this this cancer interruption. And while so much about me is changing (note photo of my new do), how I feel matters very little as long as their needs are met. Brown remains whiny as his older brother and younger sister seem to hold more sway on which movies they watch. Susanna is no less adamant about not wearing a bow in her hair and which shirt she wears just because I have cancer. And chemo has not motivated them to feel any more inclined to eat their green beans, or complain less when I insist that they do. I don’t mean they are insensitive to an underlying tension in the house, just that they seem able to ignore it and get over it, as long as it is not about them. Something else to be thankful for! (Jamie does not fall into this category, and I did write a big post about him but he would just “die” if I wrote about him, so I’ve spared my pre-teen the embarrassment of being included this post. I put it in the file to perhaps include in my book someday. Ha ha.) Some things are changing around here,  but many remain, in all the most important ways, the same.  They seem to be allowing some degree of normalcy to remain intact in the midst of the scary stuff.

Here is the treatment update: I had my first chemotherapy last Wednesday, Sept 30th. I will have my second October 21st, my third November 11th and my LAST December 2nd. It went just fine and I felt absolutely horrible for two days. Imagine the worst flu possible. Bad, but manageable for two days, exhausted for one, and ten times better on the sixth. I feel like an old person who needs to lie down for a rest after 30 minutes of activity. Who knew Facebook Scrabble could be so exhausting? But otherwise, I feel good. Had my hair cut short as you can see and liking its manageability and am getting used to the length. I wore my hair almost this short for 17 years (from age 22 to 39) but still getting used to it. 

And, speaking of which, hair is important. Let’s be honest. Losing the breasts God gave you (and giving up a healthy one voluntarily) is tough, but I will probably argue that the prospect of losing your hair is in some ways much tougher. So, more on this later when it really happens.  Please pray for my eyelashes. (I am only being a little facetious) I love them, and it is hard to admit to loving part of your body if you are a woman. I hope they stay with me. Or at the least, I hope they grow back if they fall out. 

In other news, the British invasion of my dear in-laws is next week. We are looking forward to Senior Chap and Granny’s arrival, and I know Richard cannot wait to show them the store. They have not seen the children in 14 months and they are excited! So if you stop by The Wine Chap (and please do), listen for some additional English accents. Cyril has been threatening to work a few hours, so we may take him up on it!

I do not need to tell you that October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Have you seen enough pink yet? The Susan G Komen Race for the Cure is this Saturday, October 10th in Brentwood. Support your favorite team at the Komen Nashville website. (listed in my sidebar) I have supported the HoneyBears of course. Please feel free to leave a comment here about other teams running or walking. Ladies, commit to getting your annual mammogram. Nuf said.

Love,

BK