I’m in the midst of my annual array of wellness visits. You know, the semi-annual dental hygienist appointment, my mammogram, a check in with the endocrinologist, a general physical. I appreciate these practitioners and medical experts in my life for the peace of mind they provide that I am healthy.
I’ve grown accustomed to the fact that the physician’s assistant, who I’ve seen for the past three years, can’t be a day over thirty and has no firsthand knowledge of what I can expect from menopause. That’s fine, I can read about that topic on my own. The two-part experience of having my breast compressed and then covered with goop and wanded over, is an embarrassing indignity I can live with for the sake of early detection and my dental visit has been made far more comfortable with some topical stuff on my sensitive teeth. All good.
No, the issue I have with each of these visits is with a simple consistent question on the intake form: Emergency Contact. I don’t really have one. Now, please, I have lots of contacts in my phone. There are plenty of people I can call for various things – to meet for a drink, to take a run, to give one of the boys a ride home from a game. But, there isn’t a single person who is close enough to me, physically and emotionally, to call if something really bad happens.
I don’t have a parent. Or a spouse. My only sibling lives 2+ hours away and my teenaged children wouldn’t be appropriate recipients of a dreadful call about me, their mom. So, who to call? I can’t put myself down, right?
I guess the 411 on my own 911 is this – I’d better not get hurt, sick or in an accident. The thought of having no one to call is almost enough to make me sick.
See? Being independent and single isn’t always rainbows and unicorns, after all.
I can’t believe another month has flown by! Here’s some of what I’ve been up to over at the timesunion.com.
First, there was the politics of pasta.
Then, I fell in love!
Alas, my ship sailed.
I put some pieces together.
And recognized that I couldn’t always do it myself.
But, I can drive a standard shift. Lefthanded, too.
Which is a good thing because sometimes, I want to get away from my picky-eating children.
It wasn’t my knickers that got bunched up – it was my breasts which got squeezed!
Soccer season wrapped up leaving lessons on the field that should last a lifetime.
We got more treats than tricks.
Filed under Albany, beauty, Boys, cancer, Cooking, Events, family, holidays, house, Moms@Work, politics
What are you doing October 5th? Nothing? Well, I’ve got a couple of ideas for you to consider. First – there’s the Komen Race for the Cure. This annual event is a fundraiser for breast cancer research and, although I haven’t participated, I’ve always heard the vibe is incredibly positive and empowering. Maybe get some friends together and do the run or the walk?
I would have loved to have accepted the invitation I received this year to join a team, but I already had made a commitment to volunteering to help out at Wolff’s Biergarten’s 4th annual Oktoberfest downtown. And, you know what? So can you! Email email@example.com for your chance to lend a hand (the one which isn’t holding a stein) at one of the best parties of the year. There will be music, food, dachshund races and a selection of beers which would make my Opa weep.
Last year’s weather left a little something to be desired, but Matt promised that if I wear an authentic, low-cut dirndl the sun will shine! (Actually, he never said that at all. It is a conversation which occurred completely in my own head.). Whatever – put a sweater on, if necessary and get yourself there. It’s going to be wunderbar!
It’s been a weird weekend…I kind of hit the wall on a number of levels, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, hit the wall with numerous body parts. Truth be told, I probably used my head the most. I had so many options available to me; concerts, and old friends, and art and strawberries, yet I kind of shrugged it all off. Unlike many decisions in life, I didn’t get that immediate tingling sensation that confirms many of my choices. I’m thinking maybe I’m a bit numb. Summer vacation can’t come soon enough.
Despite feeling less than great (I’m about to pop my 3rd Aleve in 2 days!) I’ve maintained my commitment to running 20 miles this week and it has been a struggle. The music hasn’t been quite right, and even if it were perfect, my right glute is screaming louder than any song playing. Not tremendously fun or satisfying.
On my run Friday, I passed two elder(ly?) women walking. They were on the opposite side of the street and I was wearing contacts, which don’t do all they should to improve my vision. I was taken aback by one of the women – she looked like my mother. I think. The last time I spoke to my mother in person was when she attempted a “scar-off” to prove that her heart surgery was way worse than my cancer surgery could have ever been. Ok, you win and what have we proven? That you have a heart and I can cut malignant things from my life and prosper? Fine.
Well, it is a little disconcerting to not be certain whether a person is, or is not, your parent. You’d think this would be a familiar sensation for me, growing up as I did wondering if every single man with a brogue was my father, but it was still weird. I had a familiar train of thought ride through my head. What will it be like when she’s gone? Will I stop seeing her everywhere the way I stopped imagining every Irishman to be my father once I knew he was gone?
I’m getting ready to be a stay at home mom for 10 weeks and I plan to slow down, enjoy my boys and try really hard to make sure that they always know who their parents are, two people who love them dearly.
Filed under aging, Boys, cancer, Exercise, family, medical, moms, musings, relationships, running, stress, Summer
You’d think that after attending the last three of these events I’d know precisely what to expect – attractive men and women clad in various shades of pink having a good time for a good cause. I always see someone I haven’t seen in years
, the beverages usually lean more to vodka than cava and the night would be incomplete without a smooch from Tom Moore
. Yet, despite the predictability of this annual event, there’s always room for a surprise – like last night’s, and I hope this term isn’t offensive, drag queens
. How fun! And I have never seen as many swingers in one room as I did last night. I mean, that’s what you would call the folks taking liberties with the rope swing at Matt Baumgartner’s house, right?
A great host, a beautiful crowd and good cause = a fun night. Thanks for always being a gracious host, Matt. You really know how to throw a party! More pics here.
I ran today for a loved one. Actually, for the loved one of a loved one, which I guess is loved-one-once-removed, but these particular loved ones aren’t going anywhere. They will not be removed.
The run today was a benefit for the Albany Rowing Center
, ARC. This club promotes and supports rowing and I have some familiarity with it as a once-upon-a-time recreational rower and a spectator to those who were bitten by the rowing bug. A million years ago, I was a rowing widow and I got to know some of those hardy rowing types. (If I ever witnessed my-then husband checking out girls it was in admiration of their potential to row. True story.) One of the men I met through ARC died yesterday from cancer
. And today I ran.
Although I only knew Rex Babin
casually on a personal level, his professional work said a lot about who he was. Smart, daring, and strong. He came, on my request, to a school I worked in many years ago, to speak to the students about his work. It was a pretty far drive, about 40 miles round trip, which is a lot to ask, but he was agreeable and did a wonderful job sharing his perspective and talent with a bunch of teenagers in Greene County. I think I sent him a thank you letter.
And back to the run this morning. I ran a path that would have been familiar to Rex Babin
from his ARC days, surrounded by determined people stretching their muscles. There was a pink ribbon pinned to my UnderArmor for protection and inspiration. My head was filled with thoughts of cancer and soft tissue and bones and being a warrior. I improved my personal record today on this ice breaker, heartbreaker course.
And then I came home and ate these waffles, with my boys. FU, cancer.
You know that PET scan I had the other day
? Well, as with many things in life, there is good news and potentially
not so good news. The area of my neck where tiny malignant things seem to like to grow is clear. No signs of any additional issues, which means at this point I can avoid having my neck cut into for the fourth time in less than 10 years. However…
I’ve learned over the years, that when a physician’s office calls with test results and they don’t leave a message, there may be a problem. Seeing that missed call on Friday and not seeing a corresponding voicemail, caused me to pause. And pick up the phone and call the ENT’s office. Looks like there was some uptake in my breast area and I need to get a mammogram, despite just having had 2 in May. So, today I will call my primary doctor’s office and ask for a referral and schedule an appointment to have my breasts squished between those metal plates for the third time in less than 6 months.
As far as PET scans go, I’m 2 for 2. But, I know that if there’s anything there it is early and I am confident that all will be fine. And – how perfect that it is October, Breast Cancer Awareness Month. If you know me in real life (as if I’m an enigma virtually!) you know that I’m not one for trends, but this situation couldn’t come at a better time of the year. For me and you ladies out there. Do your breast self exams and get that annual mammogram! Early detection is key.
As for me, I’m going to wear pink every frigging day. If I’m not outrunning cancer mentally by literally taking a run wearing my hot pink ear buds, I’ll be wearing a pink scarf or sweater, or socks or perhaps a favorite piece of hot pink under-attire. Pink? Oh, it will be there. And we’ll hope that’s ALL that is there.
Check out this recent SEEN gallery from the TU. Survivors are everywhere.
Filed under cancer, musings