Author: Patty Morini

An image finally came to me yesterday in accupuncture.  I originally was calling it “Dig Deep”.   A few days this last week I felt like I was sinking.  The  earth surrounding me is  not devouring, however.  It is a quiet place, where it’s safe to be with sadness and dark.  I am reaching with my hand and foot for the vital energy that will join with the healing and nourishment of the rich soil.  This particular rendition sort of  looks like I’m a naked pirate on a mission, now that I’ve put it on paper.   AAARRRRR !

Each time I’ve had an infusion so far, my body / my horse has worked to get itself back into balance.  I am grateful that it has strength to find this each time.  Anyone reading this (that means you) is part of the sky colors, holding my family and I in thoughts and prayers.  This is especially helpful when I and we feel like we cannot hold ourselves up.  I could not ask for more.  We have been shown evidence of your love every single day since we spread the word.

There is a part of this journey that is just mine.  A part no one else can do for me.  I have to dig deep some days to find what I must to cope.  Thank heavens these days have been rare.

Today’s walk with D was especially fun.  I feel like tearing up some carpet now.

Not sure why boys need to get quite so specific, especially with someone else’s stuff (see post below).  However, like pregnancy, breast cancer and treatment seem to shine a bright light on just about everything about my body, so what the heck.  At first diagnosis I was saying ‘never have my breasts caused such a sensation’.   Now whomever reads this knows I have an exhaust system.

The phyiscality of it all gets tiresome.  For someone who has gone through many, many years with a body that was not calling much attention to itself at all, I find the constant awareness of body a drag at times.  Being able to laugh it off, especially after a heavy Sunday, is a blessing, I must say.  Thanks B.

When pregnant, the attention was excited and so many people wanted to touch the orb.  Now under the influence of chemo, so many have been willing to just let me rest my head on their shoulders at a whim. (like on the bleachers at a soccer game) I get compliments from the brave on my choice of doo rag.  And then there are others who just think it is terrific that I’m even trying to be an active mom.  Validation is such a cool thing.  But darn the whole idea that medicine that is supposed to help me heal, is also ravaging through all of my body like a wildfire at times, so that I don’t even recognize normal things like hunger.

Stacking wood when one feels able is also a cool thing and can get the eye back on the prize and out of the discomfort of the moment.  Thank heavens for silly boys and piles of split wood.  Today is a better day.

K sent this comment via email that I wanted to share with permission:

P and all,

E,  I loved your blog entry and how you looked out over those hills and found some kind of meaning for the steep declines. I never thought that it would be your mother either that would have cancer. I never thought that I would shave any one’s head. I never knew that your mother drew so beautifully even when her strength was tested. Your mom does have one of the strongest physical and emotional constitutions of anyone I know. That will serve her well.   P, the image of your curls next to your cowboy boots is as touching as that little French girl cutting her hair to match her brother’s. I can only imagine the angst of the hair thing, the anticipation, the unknown, the metaphors, the acceptance, the sadness, the acceptance.   P, you wanted a ritual around the shaving and what you got were friends, brilliant sunshine, the cats meandering, basil everywhere and the ominous clipper box that was ready and open.  I wanted to cry for all that you are going through but your bouyancy and your boots overtook the sadness and we dragged out the headwraps.    Love to you all K

When I think about staying afloat in a rough sea, it seems daunting.  Treading water is exhausting, and the life saving float is crucial.  I have moments where the only weird thing about my life is that I’m not working (not that I mind), and that people just keep sending love letters and dropping delicious food off at our house (yummmm and thank you).  I have moments like today where I cry very easily, or just feel really sad and don’t like this, not one bit.  My choice to shave my head was an important one for me.  Empowering, yes, but not something I like.  My friends and E being witness and partners were exactly what I needed that day.

Friday was my first venture out, my head wrapped in a cloth that A picked out for me.  I wore my boots to the soccer game (girls team won 4-0).  My boots had me standing tall(er than usual) and my wrap kept my head warm, protected from the sun, and there was a privacy about it, I don’t know how to explain it better than that.  I had all delusions of grandeur about going to the football game, but I was cold and really beat by the end of the game, so I went home with E.  I put my most comfy clothes on and built a great fire in our big fireplace.

I went to the Fair yesterday, a bigger step into the world.  ‘A’ rubbed my head from time to time during the long drive.  It felt very nurturing, I think, for both of us.  Getting used to a loved one suddenly without hair must be weird.  I appreciate how A and E are evolving and coming to terms with this part of our trip.  I am careful not to appear without a cover as it is fairly drastic.  The fair was fun. I was completely anonymous.  One can do or be anything there, I found it freeing.  When I got home I had an incredible nap.  The kids ended up going to friend’s houses for the night so after friends came to help us consume some of the delicious offerings, B and I got to just be.  I am touching his long hair more,  grateful that he has chosen to keep it for our strength.  I uncovered my head for the night just because I was sick of having something on it all day.  I hated feeling relief and vunerability all at the same time, but I was home, my safest place.

This is day 5 cycle 2.  I have had a relatively mild reaction to chemo this time.  I have felt a tentative sort of relief, with some annoying GI discomfort.  I don’t like that I tire more easily.  I may appear buoyant and graceful, but I feel like I am trudging today.  I think stacking wood and napping will generate a balance of energy for me.  It fits that it is raining.  There are times when I cannot put to words what I’m feeling and that is where I’ve been since last night.  I want to be quiet.

Did I really get infusion #2 yesterday?

Thus far my body is aware, but the symptoms are very mild indeed, for which I’m grateful, truly.  B and I spend the day going to accupuncture, getting the neulasta shot to help production of white blood cells, eating wonderful chicken soup and taking a nap with our katz.  D and I walked the course in good stride.  I picked a huge tomato that is almost completely red.

Lasagne for dinner tonight, thanks J.  The meals you all are preparing are amazing and are opening up our family’s palatte nicely!

I am cautious about how good I feel.  I’m resting intentionally.  But sometimes when the horse wants to gallup it’s hard to hold her back!

Today is the end of cycle 1.   We have made it around this course once, in really good shape.  I must say that days 5-14 were very nice indeed.  I’ve got a ride and lots of company for tomorrow’s infusion.  I’ve got an idea what meds, ginger concoctions, massage and breathing might be helpful this time.  I don’t feel like I’m so much in the dark.  It doesn’t mean I won’t be uncomfortable.  I just have some idea what to expect.   We’ll see if this cycle is like the last one at all.  I do not feel dread as some have asked.  I’m very much in the moment and still full of G.O. energy.  I’m on the horse and she and I are acquainted.  GIDDYUP Girl.

“Rooted “ was inspired by my walks this morning.  The trees are getting ready for colder weather.  As they loose their leaves,  I will loose my hair.  Not that you need to know this, but my cycles are often on with the moon.  I mention it here because I feel strength in my connection with nature, and so it is with the trees as well.  If my calculations are accurate, I may be sprouting in the spring.  That works for me.

Thanks to all of you who made this first cycle so comfortable for us.  People continue to blow us away with thoughtfulness.  My big brother commented on the previous entry about the giving that touches me so.  Even just writing about THAT gets me started.  Jeepers.   I love kindness.

Off to yoga now, but I wanted to give you a couple updates:

KITCHEN UPDATE:  On Monday I was able to make a whole BUNCH of caponata, I got the peppers pressed with salt for pickled peppers (which were just processed today), made a great pot o sauce with sausages and meatballs AND a killer eggplant parm.  Am I in heaven?

BLOG UPDATE:  Obviously,  B is playing with the format, something he loves to do.  Please let us know what you think.  The spot that looks like a small paper tacked to the post at the top right is the comment link.  Please feel free to comment, we actually love it when you do.  It goes directly to our email, and it gives us a sense that someone is out there.

WALK FOR HOPE UPDATE:  Our goal was 15 team members, and as soon as I fugure out how to put B, A and E on the team, we’ll be up to, I think, 17 members!  We started with a $500 fundraising goal and kept upping it.  Our goal is now $2,000 and we have already collected $1570.  This is so COOL!