Graduations, scans & hope

It's been an emotional week for both Z. and I, the last week of Lower School. Next year she starts 5th grade (Middle School) with 7 less kids (many of them friends who she's been in school with since pre-K or K) and without the beloved just graduated 8th graders. She and some of her friends have been infatuated with the small 8th grade class (11 kids, usually the classes are twice that size, still small but not quite so tiny), particularly the 4 girls whom she has dubbed "The Angels". We were invited to graduation this year so brought her, just to give her a bit of closure if possible.

While she was at her last day (morning) of school (and then thanks to a friend's mom playing all afternoon with a bunch of her friends) I was at the Wellness Community's annual Celebration of Hope conference. There were about 500 people there, mostly cancer survivors, but also caregivers and some professionals (drs., nurses, etc.). It is always a poignant event, just being in a room with so many other cancer survivors is empowering. There you aren't the "different" one, that's one of the things I really like about the Wellness Community in general. There's a level of relaxing that I feel walking through their doors that I don't feel anywhere else.

So I've been having a lot of anxiety about my scan coming up this Wednesday. Going to this conference helped in some way. It's good to remind myself that there are so many others going through the exact same thing. That it's really hard for them too, but that we all manage to get through it. That we can joke about it, that we can give each other hope and support to get through it.

I've been trying my best to give Z. support through all of her emotions this week. She says she feels like she is going to "puke" most of the time. I know the feeling. I try to validate her feelings while offering some hope that she will get through this (balancing that line is hard, it's too easy to sound dismissive or condescending, something I know all too well when people have tried to console me). Tonight is her bday sleepover party, she has 4 girlfriends spending the night (such a difference from last year when she had two boys sleep over!) and my hope is that it will be both a good distraction, and also that being with her friends will give her a chance to talk about her feelings (they do talk about this stuff).

Meanwhile A. has been his tireless self, keeping us going. I have been feeling tired and sometimes have a hard time getting myself going. Like this morning, he got up early and mowed the lawn while I slept till 8am and then after doing my usual morning routine found myself in the kitchen completely stumped as to what to make for breakfast. I wanted breakfast (and need to eat it both to keep my blood sugar levels more even and to take the various supplements and medication I take in the morning) but I just couldn't get myself going. It seemed like a much bigger problem than it was. After a while of puttering, starting a load of laundry, starting up the computer, reading some email, etc. I just made something. As I was making it A. comes in from outside and fills up 2 water bottles with ice and water and then whisks Z. off to softball. I feel like such a schlub, granted my hip and back are hurting this morning, but I feel so low energy compared to him. I feel guilty sometimes, that he is doing more than his share (not because of softball and lawn mowing, but all the things he does in addition to his job). I probably have never been equal to him in energy level, even before cancer, but it's more noticeable now. I am very thankful for all that he does, but I can't help feeling some guilt.

Last night at the 8th grade graduation as I listened to the 8th graders give their speeches (each one gives a short speech, they are really wonderful to hear) I was thinking ahead to when Z. has her graduation and what she might say. Then I had a moment of panic as I thought that I had better be there to hear it. I let the panic go and realized that's a goal. I have had goals all along since my first cancer diagnosis when she was only a year old. My first goal was to live long enough for her to remember who I was, about 5 years old I figured. Then the goals got longer, high school and beyond. With the recurrence they have gotten shorter again. It's not that I am not reaching for those farthest goals, but they seem too big and hard to attain from this vantage point. Looking 4 years ahead is big and hard enough right now. In fact right now I just want to get though this next scan.