For Crying Out Loud

Heidi and I try to spend about one day together per month. It is our sanity insurance. Usually what happens is that in nice weather I drive to Lakewood and in yuckier weather, she comes this way. Not fair, but very accomadating of her. Since the weather is still pretty good, though going downhill, I went yesterday to Lakewood. The food is better out there and so is the shopping. There are at least 3 or 4 yarn shops we visit, and they are pretty good ones. We even discovered a new one on our last crawl. I bought some yarn to make something for Mara, but we both decided that it wasn't quite the right color, so Heidi and I were returning it.

We walked into the store and, since I was making the return, I started to talk to the shop owner. Heidi opened her mouth to say something, but the shop owner cut her off, saying, "Sisters?" Before Heidi could say anything, I just said, "Yup." At which the shop owner said, all pleased with herself, "How could I tell?" Heidi just snapped her jaw shut, knowing that if she spoke she would give the whole thing away. She and I had such a laugh about it afterwards. And this is not the first time we have been mistaken for sisters. One of the other times (it actually happens quite often) was in Florence. That one surprised us. Heidi was talking in Italian to the shop keeper and he still thought we were sisters. I thought I looked more American than that.

I have even thought of an explaination for our having different accents. The story is that our parents divorced when we were quite young Actually, Heidi's parents did divorce when we were quite young. Then, the story goes, Heidi stayed in Italy with her father (true) and I was raised in America by my mother (also true).
Anyway, Heidi and love it and get a big kick out of it.

Okay, enough of that. I thought you might like to see what is happening in the neighborhood.

I think I told you all that Bill's house sold in the beginning of summer. The rumor was that his house would be torn down and two house would be built in its place. This is what things looked like two weeks ago. And this. And this, too. As you can see, quite exciting! Then, two weeks later, things looked more like this. Watch this space for more pictures of the progress.

And signs of fall.

Aren't these just the weirdest looking things you have seen? We half expect aliens to emerge from them some dawn.

Can the snow be far behind?

But we still have some color and beauty to look forward to.

Posted by Maman at 6:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

A turtle once listened to some ducks telling of all the wonders of the world they saw as they flew here and there. The more he listened, the more he wanted to travel all over the world too.

Two ducks offered to help him. “I you will take hold of this stick with your mouth, we will each hold an end and we will carry you through the air so you can see the whole countryside. But you must promise not to talk. You must promise to keep your mouth shut.”

The turtle was happy to promise. He grabbed hold of the stick and away sailed the two ducks and the turtle. They sailed up higher than the trees. They sailed up into the clouds. Just then a crow flew by. “What a foolish sight,” he called. “What is a turtle doing flying through the clouds?”

“I will have you know,” said the turtle. But he never finished his explanation for the minute he opened his mouth to say these foolish words, he fell to the ground.

I think I may have mentioned that I visit and comment on another blog. I feel like the turtle risking falling from the sky when I say this, but I was rather chuffed to read this. You have to scroll all the way to the end to see what I am talking about.

But then, who really wants to be either known or praised for writing comments on a depressing cancer blog? People from all over the world writing heart-wrenching commentary on either their own or their loved one's battle with this disease. I think the toughest one for me to read was this one. Not so much the entry, as the comments. (And, Mara, you are so busted! I just went and reread the comments and I see they were 'added to'! )

Actually, Mara, what I want to say is, "Thank you. I almost missed it. I'm glad I didn't."

You know, I think that about sums up my feelings toward life itself.

Posted by Maman at 7:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

I haven't been posting so much on my blog, and now I need to talk about it. No need to worry; it isn't bad. It just is.

Mendon and I have talked a little about this. We both feel a little reluctance to post the things we think might create a firestorm. So he has carved a place in MySpace and I have been posting here. I found that I was writing some things in the comments that I didn't feel comfortable posting here. But the more I thought about it, the more I feel that it is not fair to put it 'out there' and not out here.

The last thing I posted was something I had written in the comments and then posted here as well. I have now resolved to be more open in my feelings here. I hope everyone can accept what I write in the spirit it is offered. I don't mean to upset anyone, just to allow you to know where I am in my process. I also don't want anything to come as a surprise later because I didn't share. I think this is an aspect of what I meant when I said, 'Let's not keep those end-of-life issues for the end of life.'

A few weeks ago I visited Heidi. I was feeling very down and as though I was just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was thinking it was inevitable and unavoidable to have a recurrance and to die of my pancreatic cancer. Needless to say, I was feeling a bit anxious.

That night I went to bed. I had no trouble falling asleep, but I woke up around 1 am and couldn't get back to sleep. I lay there, tossing and turning and fretting. Finally, I turned to prayer to soothe myself and turn off/tune out/drown out the noise in my head. I silently said, "Lord, you have to help me with this one." This is not a new prayer for me, more of a recurring theme.

All of a sudden, I was washed over with an indescribable wave of inner peace and calm. I had the sense of being held in His hands, much as though I was an Ann Geddes baby. The thought (I don't quite know what else to call it, but this isn't the right word. Maybe, Knowledge?) that appeared in my head/heart was that everything would be alright. I was going to be cared for and not left to do this journey on my own, that He would be with me.

It was clear to me that the outcome might still be a recurrance and ultimately death, but that it would all be okay. I rolled over and fell right back to sleep. Since then I have felt calmer and less anxious. I still think about things and still sort of worry about a recurrance, but not with that sense of impending doom. More the feeling of anticipating an exam that I know will be hard, but that I can do.

Posted by Maman at 12:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I hate to be a wet blanket, but I have to ask What is Hope? What is Reality? Where do they intersect?

I know my doctor finds me hope-less (not a hopeless case, but not having as much hope as he thinks I should have.) I have pancreatic cancer. To quote an article I read in the Sunday magazine right after my surgery, '. . . which is nearly always fatal.' My chances of surviving to 5 years is one in 33. I have to contemplate the possibility that I won't make it that far. To do otherwise is to deny reality. If I bought one of 33 lottery tickets and started to spend my windfall before the drawing, everyone would say I was irresponsible. If I was on an airplane and the pilot came on and said that we had a 3% chance of landing -- at all, no one would question it if my thoughts turned to death. But if I mention the possibility of dying of this cancer, I get the reaction that I am being dark, depressed and pessimistic. I think all I really am looking for is an acknowledgement that things don't look so good right now.

I wake up everyday happy and amazed to be alive. I cherish each dawn and enjoy each sunset. I am taking the time to improve my relationships with my family and friends. I am glad to have the heads-up. I am not depressed, but I would be engaging in magical thinking if I didn't recognize that there is better than a good chance I won't be here in a year or two.

Posted by Maman at 5:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)