I suppose an update would only be polite.
Short version:
Mom still has cancer, is doing mostly okay right now, hopefully new treatments will get through the FDA before she needs them. (While they're at it, if they want to hurry up on some of the new stuff for psoriasis and psoriatic arthritis, I wouldn't complain. Just saying.)
Graduated with a degree in Cinema & Digital Arts from Point Park University. After everything else I've done, it felt weirdly anti-climatic - my mom was diagnosed with cancer summer between Junior and Senior year, also, so mostly I was just hoping I'd be able to finish Senior year. Doing the whole graduation thing and getting a diploma was kind of a relief as much as anything else since it meant one less set of things to stress about. (Maybe I'd feel more excited if I actually frame my diploma and hang it up somewhere? Does that help?)
Currently pondering getting involved in some volunteer stuff since I have random amounts of spare time here and there around helping my mom with things (she is stubborn and is still working full time, f*** her cancer) but not quite sure yet which volunteer organization I want to get involved with, or if I want to go through one of those sites where you can just sort of fill in here and there depending on who needs extra bodies for any specific event.
So that's about it. If you have any suggestions for groups to volunteer with, lemme know. I don't really care what I do as long as it is interesting and in some way educational for me - though my view of what counts as educational is pretty broad, since I think you can learn from a lot of experiences if you just keep your mind open to it.
Saturday, April 21, 2012
Friday, August 6, 2010
The c-word
My relationship with my parents is a little weird. I am legally an adult - heck, I lived in England for ten years, got married (he died), went to college (uni) over there for a while, and with my late husband managed to help bring about what are (hopefully) significant changes to the way the NHS views severely disabled people living in the community. (That's what his specialist said after he died, anyway - maybe she was just being nice.) Anyway, point is, I am not a 'kid'. I could pack my stuff up and move somewhere else tomorrow and figure it out just fine. But I live at home because home is a 5-10 minute drive from campus and effectively rent-free and I really don't want to have any more student loans when I graduate than I absolutely have to.
My mom seems to have some difficulty with the whole 'not a kid' concept now that I'm back home, though. (To be fair, she probably did when I lived in England, too, but when I was 3000+ miles away, how much could she really do about it?) As a result, this whole cancer thing is proving strange. On the one hand - she knows my husband was severely disabled and that I grew up with a nurse for a mom, a nurse for an aunt, and a dad who worked mostly in IT for hospitals. Medical stuff is not exactly new and exciting for me. On the other - I'm her BABY and she clearly doesn't want to 'worry' me with things. So at the end of the day I get bits of pieces of information about what's actually going on with diagnosis and tests and treatment, and then while I'm chatting with her, the subject will come up (because right now it's not just the elephant in the room, it's the giant bright pink and orange polka dotted elephant dancing in a tutu) and I'll find myself talking to her about her fears and if what she's doing makes sense, and various other topics associated with the emotional and mental impact of said elephant, but without knowing if I have the most recent, up to date facts.
My dad, on the other hand, seems to have a child rearing approach that goes something along the lines of "once you hit 18, you're an adult, I've done what I can for your emotional and mental development, now I will boot you out of the nest." (The metaphorical nest, that is - as long as I do my share of looking after the dogs, and help with finances when I can, occupying a room in the family home is a non-issue.) This means he is quite happy to give me all the gritty details and share with me the latest he's read online about treatment options and prognosis.
I am sure now anyone reading is going "what's the problem? Find out the details from your dad so you can talk to your mom!" Except - I kind of wonder about the ethics of that approach. Obviously my mom is not telling me for a reason. Do I respect her wishes and not ask? A lot of the things she needs to talk about probably don't really require knowing the gritty details, it's just what I would prefer. Maybe feeling like she's able to protect me somewhat actually helps her feel like she's in control of at least one aspect of her life right now. Seems like feeling in control might be pretty important when your body is apparently attempting to kill you.
I don't really know.
My mom seems to have some difficulty with the whole 'not a kid' concept now that I'm back home, though. (To be fair, she probably did when I lived in England, too, but when I was 3000+ miles away, how much could she really do about it?) As a result, this whole cancer thing is proving strange. On the one hand - she knows my husband was severely disabled and that I grew up with a nurse for a mom, a nurse for an aunt, and a dad who worked mostly in IT for hospitals. Medical stuff is not exactly new and exciting for me. On the other - I'm her BABY and she clearly doesn't want to 'worry' me with things. So at the end of the day I get bits of pieces of information about what's actually going on with diagnosis and tests and treatment, and then while I'm chatting with her, the subject will come up (because right now it's not just the elephant in the room, it's the giant bright pink and orange polka dotted elephant dancing in a tutu) and I'll find myself talking to her about her fears and if what she's doing makes sense, and various other topics associated with the emotional and mental impact of said elephant, but without knowing if I have the most recent, up to date facts.
My dad, on the other hand, seems to have a child rearing approach that goes something along the lines of "once you hit 18, you're an adult, I've done what I can for your emotional and mental development, now I will boot you out of the nest." (The metaphorical nest, that is - as long as I do my share of looking after the dogs, and help with finances when I can, occupying a room in the family home is a non-issue.) This means he is quite happy to give me all the gritty details and share with me the latest he's read online about treatment options and prognosis.
I am sure now anyone reading is going "what's the problem? Find out the details from your dad so you can talk to your mom!" Except - I kind of wonder about the ethics of that approach. Obviously my mom is not telling me for a reason. Do I respect her wishes and not ask? A lot of the things she needs to talk about probably don't really require knowing the gritty details, it's just what I would prefer. Maybe feeling like she's able to protect me somewhat actually helps her feel like she's in control of at least one aspect of her life right now. Seems like feeling in control might be pretty important when your body is apparently attempting to kill you.
I don't really know.
Welcome
So, this is the first post. This may well be the only post. We'll see how it goes.
Why a blog? Two reasons.
1. I'm just about to start my senior year of college and the reality that I will be graduating and thus have to go and make my way in the Real World and Find A Job and all those "fun" things has just smacked me between the eyes. It is fairly terrifying. Therefore, I figure I can post about it here from time to time so anyone who stumbles across the blog can laugh at my misery. I'm giving and generous like that.
2. My mom has just been diagnosed with a type of bone cancer, and she's getting really frustrated at the entire process and keeps telling me one of us should do a blog. So I might blog about that, too. (Don't worry, most of it will probably be me complaining about how stupid the medical system in the US is, so you'll be able to laugh at that, too. When in doubt, be entertained, this is my theory.)
Why "PirateFoxy"?
The blog address is entirely because I am lazy and couldn't think of anything and hey, my dog is named Pirate and my mom's dog is named Foxy. Plus, I keep hoping that one of my talented artist friends will draw a cute little cartoon Pirate Foxy.
Why a blog? Two reasons.
1. I'm just about to start my senior year of college and the reality that I will be graduating and thus have to go and make my way in the Real World and Find A Job and all those "fun" things has just smacked me between the eyes. It is fairly terrifying. Therefore, I figure I can post about it here from time to time so anyone who stumbles across the blog can laugh at my misery. I'm giving and generous like that.
2. My mom has just been diagnosed with a type of bone cancer, and she's getting really frustrated at the entire process and keeps telling me one of us should do a blog. So I might blog about that, too. (Don't worry, most of it will probably be me complaining about how stupid the medical system in the US is, so you'll be able to laugh at that, too. When in doubt, be entertained, this is my theory.)
Why "PirateFoxy"?
The blog address is entirely because I am lazy and couldn't think of anything and hey, my dog is named Pirate and my mom's dog is named Foxy. Plus, I keep hoping that one of my talented artist friends will draw a cute little cartoon Pirate Foxy.
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