Pretty Women

The first time I saw this, it overwhelmed me.  It was long before I was diagnosed, before I had to re-evaluate my own self-image as I have had to over the last 14 months.  But the message that Katie Makkai shared at the National Poetry Slam in 2002 was one that literally brought me to tears.

(And this was in the days before my hormones got all screwed up and I started weeping at unexpected moments and at any and all vids or commercials that include servicemen coming home to adoring children.  Jeez - that stuff gets me every time.)

I don't have daughters.  I had always hoped that my brother would have nieces for me - little versions of me with a bit of Russian thrown in from their mom.  It only seemed fair, as my eldest was the spitting image of my brother as a boy - and my youngest certainly had moments that reminded me of my brother as well.  But no - he had to go and have a boy as well.  Hmph.

Katie's message isn't just for the young women who are starting to find out who they are - and what they are pretty amazing at.  It is for all of us.  I hadn't thought about it in years, but a week or so ago, a friend from Austin posted a picture from Katie's performance with a good portion of the conclusion on it, and I remembered.  I remembered the gut reaction I had to it - so I had to go find it and watch it again.

Since then, it has come to mind in odd moments.  Such as this evening - when, as I was in the bathroom, I once again caught a glimpse of my latest self - head covered with a few wispy hairs, eyes with just a few eyelashes left and dark circles that look like some one slugged me three days ago.  I caught myself wrinkling my nose at my reflection thinking "well ain't that purdy" and heard an echo of the video above.

Will I be pretty?  Will I be pretty?  Will I be pretty?!!

Well hell.  I thought I had gotten past all that.

The thing is, it's hard to let go of vanity.  It's no wonder it's listed as one of the deadly sins - once it gets a hold of you, it doesn't want to let go.  I would love nothing better than to not glance in a mirror and start picking apart how I look now.  To not give in to that ritual of self-loathing that anorexic Victoria's Secret models with D-cup jugs have bequeathed to those us not blessed that way naturally (or monetarily). 

Some day I might have granddaughters.  I hope like hell at some point - if I'm not around to do it - that someone points them at Katie's performance above.  I wish for them a society that reveres women that have talent, intelligence and a willingness to work hard instead of those with nothing but a sex tape in their past and a willingness to do anything to be "famous" in their present.  I hope that my sons - and their wives - don't focus on them being merely pretty, but instead encourage them to be "pretty intelligent, pretty creative, pretty amazing."

But never. Merely. Pretty.

(All the credit in the world goes to the amazing Katie Makkai, who inspired this entire post and I don't know at all, but I consider an inspiration for myself - and I hope for you as well.  She is, quite simply, one of my heroes.)

Sports, Band and Trees - Oh My

Let me begin by just stating - I am a sports fan. Even more - I am a hockey fan. I completely understand how a person can get caught up in a game and lose perspective.

But you would think parents would be able to behave better.

Last night, E had his 2nd basketball game. We played at home. We played a team from a prep school nearby, and we were obviously playing their A team. E, since he did not play last year, is on the B team for Hicksville Middle School. The team they were playing was very good. They came out to rousing start and quickly managed to lead by over 20 points. Their kids made fancy jump shots from all over. They had fancy passing patterns and executed them flawlessly. And the parents were very enthusiastic in their support of their kids. I have no objections to that. Truly I don't.

I do have objections to those parents taking up the home section of the stands. We have a very nice visitor's section. I fail to see why the parents couldn't do all their whoopin' and hollerin' from that section, instead of insisting upon sitting in our section and being obnoxious.

Not only that, but if you're going to sit in the home team's section of the stands, and make a spectacle of yourselves when your team is winning, do not get annoyed when our little ole B team manages to come back in the 4th and WIN the game, ok? I mean really - if you can whoop and holler, so can we. And we're hicks - so we're *expected* to act that way. You people are the ones who send your hot shot kids to a fancy prep school - show some class already!

This concludes my fan rant.

In other news, the mom-in-law is doing great. She is scheduled to have a PET scan, and we are cautiously optimistic that the scan will come back clear. For the one or two folks that read my silly ole blog, please continue to keep her in your prayers.

E's football season ended with him scoring a few extra points, and the team winning district overall. The high school team made the playoffs, and won the Bi-District title, but then lost last week. It was still an awesome year for them. The band qualified for the area competition, but failed to make the state competition. We are still very proud of how well they did this year as well.

J is having a rougher year as a middle schooler. He just doesn't see the point of not only doing his homework, but turning it in. Consequently, he has been grounded until those grades come up. *sigh* It would be one thing if he just didn't get the material - but he aces his tests. He just doesn't like homework. He's also been branded "weird" by the oh-so-knowledgeable 6th grade girl club. J has always been an individual, with a highly active imagination. Apparently that's not appreciated by middle schoolers out here. If anyone has any advice on how to comfort a sensitive, kind 12 yr old boy who thinks "any girl would be crazy to like me," I'd sure appreciate it.

The days are getting cooler out in the boonies, and the nights even colder. My beautiful ceramic tile in the kitchen is pretty darn cold in the mornings, so I picked up some slippers at Target during the big ole Black Friday sale. My boys (all 3 of them) are pretty amused to see me padding around the house rockin my new cheetah print slippers and red fleece with snowmen robe. Pfft. *I* like 'em. And they're warm. So there.

The tree is up, although I forgot to put the garland on before I put all the ornaments on. It's still pretty. I've been hanging fake pine garlands all over the place where I can - oddly enough, lengths that were perfect for my old house seem kinda short in this one. I'm making do. I may give in and buy a couple of new ones. But until then, I'm just having fun finding new places for all my Christmas stuff. I've started my Christmas shopping, and I'm *hoping* that I'll be done before the middle of December. Yeah - I know, but we all gotta have dreams, right?

We have planted more trees on our land, and just ordered a ton more from the Soil & Water conservation people. Someday we'll have a windbreak. Until then, the porch will be deserted until spring arrives. I'll miss watching the sunsets.

Here's hoping everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving.

Hate. Fear. Strength. Faith.

I hate Cancer.

I hate that the treatment for it is almost as bad as the disease. I hate that my sweet little mom-in-law has to spend weeks in the hospital with sores in her mouth and throat while waiting for her stem cells to graft and start producing nice little white cells so she won't be in so much pain. I hate that my husband has to sit in a hospital room for hours on end, seeing his mother in pain and feeling helpless to help her. I hate that he has to worry when after 10 days she still hasn't started producing white cells - and that this latest course of treatment might not work. I hate that after losing his favorite uncle, he now has to worry about losing her. I hate that my kids have to be without their dad most of each week because he needs to be with his mama.

But most of all, I hate the fear that creeps over me every time I even think of the possibility of losing the mom-in-law. Not necessarily how the loss will affect me directly. I do love her, and I would miss her terribly. But I am terrified what it will do to M. He tries to be so strong, but a man can only take so much. And he is on the very end of his rope lately. I'm afraid what will happen if he happens to slip off. And I hate being afraid.

You see - I'm the tough one. The one who can handle anything. Really - ask my friends. I'm the "normal" person in the group - the one with the great marriage, the so-called normal kids, the job she enjoys - the one who never has a crisis. When my grandparents died within 45 days of each other, I handled it. When my youngest broke his arm and had to have surgery, I handled it. When he had meningitis, I handled it. I'm a strong person, and I handle things. It's what I do.

So when I start fearing things, it pisses me off. *I* don't get scared! But I am. I worry that my strength isn't enough to hold my husband together if the worst happens. I've seen him fall apart before. I'm afraid he might again. I wonder if I'm still strong enough to handle it this time.

Of course, I don't have to handle it by myself. I know that. I know I should let go, and Let God. Sometimes that's easier said than done. It was easy to do when it had to do with our mongo house project. It was easy to do when I sent my kids off to school. For some reason, when it comes to my husband's sanity and peace of mind, it's much harder to do. I'm not sure why. I consider myself a woman of faith.

Lately though, I feel more like a woman of fear. And I HATE that.

The Big C

It's odd how when a doctor tells you a loved one is in remission, in this day & age, you just take that to mean that everything is going to be ok. That's how we felt back in December. That everything was going to be ok.

Um. Not so much. Last month, during my mom-in-law's 6 month check up, they found 3 new masses. She was admitted to the hospital yesterday to begin a new course of chemo, then they will extract t-cells to re-implant after a 2nd heavy dose of chemotherapy. She is only 60 years old.

She never smoked, although her first husband smoked. She never drank much, although I've seen her have a wine cooler or two at a bbq. She never did recreational drugs, although she has been on various other medications her entire adult life for various emotional issues. In short, she didn't engage in any of the normal risk factors that have been shown to lead to cancer.

Yet she is fighting a particular nasty type of non-Hodgkin's lymphoma anyway. And it irks me.

She's a nice lady. I really do like my mom-in-law for the most part. She lives 4 hours away, but she took me in and treated me like family from the first time my husband took me to meet his family. She's had a rough life at times, and doesn't deserve to be in a fight like this. For her very life. But she is.

And I'm at a loss because I can't just walk away from my job and go take care of her. That's my first reaction. I want to be there in Amarillo. I want to be able to bring her whatever they'll allow her to drink, and hold that goofy little plastic pan they give you to hurl in, and just listen to her talk (because, good Lord love, that woman does love to talk!).

But today is my son's birthday. He turned 14. His party is Thursday - he has waited all year to go see the new Harry Potter movie with his friends, and I can't take that from him. But I am seriously considering taking off work early on Wednesday and driving to Amarillo, even if it's just for a few hours. I don't like her being there alone. Her "friend" can't be there everyday, as he has to work. Her mother is in a nursing home, and I'm not really sure if she really knows how ill her daughter is. Her brothers - well, let's just say they are not there for her. All she really has is us.

I don't know what her prognosis is. The doctors were very vague with my husband and his mother, other than to tell her this t-cell thing has a 35% chance of working.

35%. That's a 65% chance it won't. Having the cancer come back so quickly after her 1st round of treatment is bad. I'm afraid - for her, for my husband. That my kids won't get to know her anymore.

Cancer sucketh. Much.

Add to that - my husband's great-uncle, who is also the godfather of my children, has leukemia. He & his wife, after months of fighting it, have finally called hospice. They took him home. And I don't know how much longer he has. He is another member of M's family that I love dearly. I am so blessed to have married a man with a family who was willing to accept and love me from the minute I met them. I know not everyone has that. The bad side of that is knowing that you might lose them soon - it's an ache I fight every day.

I read the blogs of several young women - women who are just starting their lives, with small children, women whose faith in God astounds me on a daily basis. Heather. Kelli. Amy. I marvel at how they hang onto God's strength - how they use their illness as a way to minister to everyone around them. I wonder if I would have that strength if it were me. Or would I rail against fate, screaming "Why me? ! Why me?!"

I wish I had a point. I wish I had some profound finish. All I have is heartache and dread. And a request. A request that anyone who reads this consider adding my mom-in-law and my great-uncle-in-law to their prayers. Pray for healing, pray for peace, pray for strength. And pray that I'll find some way to be a help to my husband and his family in the days and months (God willing) ahead.

Because right now I feel pretty helpless.