patterndrafter

TMI

2009-08-06T03:49:00.000-07:00

Working an overnight 12 hour shift is hard. And by "hard," I mean "I don't know how I do it."

The best nights are spent getting some things accomplished with a healthy dose of knitting and watching Netflix movies on the computer. The worst nights are like this one. The computer is still involved, but it's surfing for information. It's reviewing medical publications and before and after photos and support group sites. The computer has my eyes stuck against his monitor as though my life depended on it...and, I guess in some ways it does. The research is intensive when one is planning to cut out their breasts and re stuff them with some synthetic component - something that most likely keeps them from feeling like they did, looking like they did, moving like they did, but most importantly from causing their host to hear "You have breast cancer." I can't fucking stop searching for too much information.

This process is interlaced delicately with a web of emotion and memory. I cry every time. I can feel the new patterns of synapses firings establishing themselves and preventing the next round of thought to diverge much from the last. Mom. Dead. Cancer. I watched the suffering - I'm sick of talking about it, I'm sick of thinking about it, I'm sick of knowing what I know and I bet everyone else thinks the same damn thing. Actually others have more patience than I give them credit for. Still - I've numbed their ability to hear me just as I have my own.

When I agreed to look into this prophylactic procedure, I thought I knew a bit about it. I mean, all that reading, reading, reading had to count for something, right? Well...kind of. It's more complicated than I thought and I have no idea how I'm going to handle this. No fucking clue. Drugs, I guess. Lots and lots of drugs.

Pills to help me calm down before I go to the consultation with the surgeons. Pills to relax me on some little plane that gets me to the hospital for the procedure. Pills to help me sleep the night before The Big Day. Pills to sedate me before they put me under. Then an IV. Anaesthetic, anti nausea, pain management. Drains. Bandages. Mounds of pain where my pleasure used to be. A few days in the hospital. Pills to fly home with minimal pain, without much stress. Pills to get me back into my bed. Pills that keep me from remembering when I last took them and who was just there and if I was a good hostess in my little apartment all cut apart and stitched up. Let yourself in. And please, please don't believe me for one second when I say I'm fine. Because I won't be fine. I'm going to hurt and I'm going to be scared and sad and lost and needing my hair washed for me. I'm going to have to need like I've never needed before and that is the worst information I've come across yet. It wasn't found at the American Cancer Society website or the brochure from the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance. It popped up from inside, attached to a warning note with a picture of mom on it, and a list of insecurities that ran strait off the page. Too much, I say. Too much inforfuckingmation.

Mom 3/16/1954-3/23/2009

2009-04-02T23:25:00.000-07:00

Letter to a 12 year old riding across country

2008-09-19T18:39:00.000-07:00

Dearest girl,
What an adventure you are on - as if being 12 wasn't adventure enough, right? But even adventures under duress can strengthen us. You come from strong stock, my love.

I don't want to assume I know how you feel, though I do imagine some things that have been universal on my own road trips - though most of my trips have been filled with the promise of someday being home again. Are you feeling grungy yet? Is your hair a greasy ball? Are you sick of your traveling companion-snapping at each other for small infringements of personal space? I'd bet the passing landscapes allow you to reflect and make you feel sad about those you have left. Did you get a chance to say goodbye? Are you sick of road food? Do you sense that this is all a little odd?

I wonder if you have realised that most people would consider your situation to be pretty extreme, and I wonder, should this have already occurred to you, if that would make you want to defend how things are or not. I know that defending one's reality is the best one can do sometimes just to get by. And whatever you need to do to get by, my love, that is what I hope you can do.

So. Here we are. Another piece of chaos in a life filled with the unexpected and the unimaginable and the unstable. When put that way - you really are not alone. We all are subject to these things in some way or another-at some time or another. I won't be surprised if you venture onto your own without delusion, my love. And this may make things easier then.

I hope you know first and foremost that I love you. That I will go to the ends of the earth for you and exhaust all my resources to maintain our connection. I want you to know that you are right - this is not fair. I want you to feel safe and know that it isn't necessary to take on the fears and habits of those you love - those who look after you. You have choices. Sometimes you may find you need help to see those choices and then to make those choices, but you will have them waiting patiently for you when you are ready. Sometimes I do not see my self worth, and many people struggle with this. When I struggle with it, I think of you, and I think of how much I want to be here just in case you need me. Or even just want me or would like me to be there for you. If you find yourself doubting your own self worth or feeling like you want to give up or give in or just not take very good care of yourself, please think of me. We could make a pact.
I won't pretend, as I've told you before (that time when you spent a week with me in SC in my little apartment when you were 9), that I can explain why things happen the way they do. Inevitably the timing is all f..ed up and things can be sad and things can be unfair. But I will say that I have never had a single moment when I wasn't so very very pleased to know you are on this planet with me. Some people say life is the biggest gift you can give - blahblahblah. Maybe, maybe not. But I will say this. I am not the type that makes some ugly xmas "thing" and then makes mention of it when I notice it has not been kept on display. I am not the type that will give money when someone is in desperate need, then judge them for ordering a pizza. I've given you this life to do with as you wish. I am so very, very sorry that you are not of age to make your own decisions and take ultimate advantage of this gift - but that is childhood and adolescence for you. I would prefer you to take care of yourself in the best ways you can, but it is your life. You keep it. And I will continue to feel so honored to even have a tiny part within it.
As you travel across all those states, and ultimately land in some unknown and unfamiliar place, just keep breathing. Pay close attention to your feet and your toes and your hands and your heart. These will help you when your head is going crazy. Stay in your perfect little body and remember we will get through this. We will get through this.

And you know how I know? Because you are incredibly LOVABLE. So charming and endearing and kind. People will see that. Even people who have grown up in little towns and aren't used to meeting new people. Even teenagers. You will make new friends - even if it takes a while to earn their trust. The light inside of you is so bright that nothing you could do or not do can dim it. Trust this. Believe this. And if you need help remembering, you call me.

More love than you could possibly imagine,
On all your travels as always,
Mumenshmantz

Ready for winter

2008-08-27T23:57:00.000-07:00

The more I verbalize my excitement for the cool and rainy days slowly replacing the heat and sun, the more I realize that I am not among friends. I cheerfully greet others under cloud cover, mentioning something about the lovely weather, and I'm met with non committal grunts. Grunts! It is beyond me! I understand that all people are different, and that each unique person comes with their own personal set of preferences. I think I know, anyway. But why don't more people enjoy this shift of season? Perhaps these folks have not considered the things they've been missing out on all summer long! Even the things reserved for the sunny weather are more enjoyable without the stifling heat! Bike rides and walks are much more pleasant when your eyeballs aren't sweating out of your face. Swimming and water skiing and fishing time can all be extended without the constant threat of over heating. There is nothing I can think of that isn't more enjoyable in 60 degree weather with a bit of a drizzle. In addition, there are a gazillion things I enjoy immensely that simply cannot be done during the summer.
1) Cuddling: I don't care how sweet you are on a fella - snuggling up in an apartment that is gasping for air at 10PM after a 95 degree day just doesn't work. Nope. Enter rain on the roof, or a snow quieted sunrise, and good luck letting go of each other! Get the blankies out and snugglesnugglesnuggle.
2)Wearing Wool: I knit all year round. Cotton and linen and hemp are all very nice - but wool is where it's at! What a joy to dawn a new fleece cap every day, or layer up and finish off with a nice heavy sweater of protein fiber. And to knit without sweating hands! Hooray!
3) Thawing: How can you enjoy warming the bones if they haven't a chance to chill themselves? A hot cup of soup from the crock pot, or a fresh cup of coffee just doesn't hit the spot on a hot day. The warmth of a friends house isn't as embracing as when you've just been granted shelter from the brisk outside air.
These are just a few things to help my fellow countryfolk remember what it is about cooler weather that makes us (at least me) happy. So bring on the rain! Bring on the snow! 10 below, I welcome you! I'll be the gal in the wool cap under the cozy blankets with my guy and a hot cup of coffee. sigh I can hardly wait...

Glass needles

2008-08-07T01:43:00.000-07:00

Perhaps it's the hour (2:43 am) or maybe it's the story behind them, but I fricken LOVE my glass knitting needles. I wasn't sure for a while there. I'm 20 rows into the back of a tank I'm improvising (the front is finished), and all of a sudden it hit me! I love them! The way they click like pleasant sounding wind chimes, the way I can see my stitches through them, the way they seem to have become infused with my knitting style - I feel like I could set them down and they would carry on. Ok - so it is the hour. But these needles are pretty sweet.

Don't Jinx It!

2008-07-23T22:49:00.000-07:00

This is totally secret, okay? Don't go blabbing around that I care or that I've mentioned anything at all. There's this guy. He's really intriguing. At first I was pretty stand offish about him - thinking he was my typical type: Mr. Unavailable. But he keeps coming around. He stays in touch. I'm still not sure about some of the things he says - various references with long term implications. I don't trust that shit. But I am starting to trust him.
Yesterday we drove with friends to Coeur D' Alene to visit some folks that live there. The day was totally hectic and I had lots to observe. His friends were different than the type of people I usually find myself surrounded by. Nice and well meaning, though not very "PC." The whole crew ventured out for lunch and a bit of shopping. I was so excited that everyone was more than willing to accommodate my request to check out the LYS I'd googled before leaving Missoula, even if they did end up staying outside most of the time. "My" guy, however, stayed in the store with me, suggesting yarns and appearing to truly enjoy the experience. I appreciated his height - he found some glass needles (like I've been wanting to try forever!) on top of a shelf in a basket. We picked out a pair and he bought them for me. He is so generous and thoughtful. He always opens doors and treats me sweetly. Later last night, the crew ended up playing two heated games of Trivial Pursuit. By the end, I was totally over it. Everyone else was very competitive, and I found myself growing weary of the animosity, friendly as it may have been. "My" guy was looking very tired (he's been working and traveling quite a bit lately), and I was happy he wanted to get a quiet hotel room for the night. It was a great relief to have some down time after such a long day. We had a chance to talk and "stuff," and I found myself opening up a little more. This morning we laid about and talked and laughed. As the day progressed, I felt closer and closer to him. The way I look at him seems to be changing a bit. I like him. A lot. I have this weird little feeling in my stomach (or is it chest?) when I think about him. It's like I'm allergic to him or something - but in a good way. I've been making jokes about my feelings for so long, that not joking about them makes me a wee bit nervous. So lets face it - I'm kind of scared. Because I know what this is - this feeling and this interaction. Usually I'm so afraid of it that I never let it get this far. Still here I am, and as scary as it may be - as dangerous and unpredictable as these relationship thingies get-I feel like I want to keep going with this. My hand looks promising, and I think I'll check. Hell, I might even raise the pot.

Public Flogging of Fat Myths!

2008-07-19T21:36:00.000-07:00

I was getting ready to go to a "function" this evening where I would be meeting some people I'd never met before. I was tired. I was down. The thought of being friendly and outgoing to a group of strangers did not appeal to me, but I had already submitted my RSVP, and felt somewhat obligated to participate. I thought perhaps I could make myself a drink, suck it up, and get out there...until I started getting dressed. As I sorted through my apparel collection, and found several pairs of pants that couldn't be buttoned, I noticed a small obnoxious voice surface at the back of my consciousness. What? What was that, o' love of my life? You kind and generous spirit without form? Turns out the little voice agreed that I should not participate in the evening's scheduled activities because (get this) I'm too fat to meet new people. The funny - and I do mean hilarious - thing about this was it's striking similarity to other thoughts I've had. Why this very afternoon I pondered going into a store I was passing where I knew there were fellow knitters inside. Then I realized some of them had not seen me in a while, and they might notice how much weight I'd gained. I walked right by the entrance.
Clearly my plan of trying to metamorphose my self talk from "OMG, I'm the fatest I've ever been" into "Well, this may be the thinnest I'll ever be again" has not worked as planned. Nor have several other attempts at making peace with this onslaught of poundage. I kind of understand that the Thyroid thing is to blame, yet I find myself telling anyone within ear shot that I ride my bike everywhere, and I eat reasonably healthy with average portions. And god forbid I should want some fries - oh boy. Tsk Tsk Tsk. I am constantly aware of what I order at restaurants and consistently preoccupied with noting all the new little bumps under my skin where the fat is hiding . I find myself to be losing self confidence even faster than I'm putting on the pounds. So what does one say to this? Well, clearly one must mock it. One must speak out and reveal the ridiculousness of the claims little voice has made! In this vein, I expose the following bull shit arguments and ask you all, dear readers, to join me in their public denouncement!

1) People look at you and think you're disgusting.
2) You've become "one of those fat people with too many tattoos" who, in a last ditch effort to make themselves attractive splattered ink all over the place - hoping to distract others from their size.
3) Big girls are not sexy. Once you're beyond "Curvy," time to turn out the lights. Any suitors should be viewed with suspicion as they probably are just indulging in their fetish. Oh - and it's granny panties from here on out.

Where am I?

2008-07-03T01:11:00.000-07:00

I've been told I should start blogging. How embarrassing! I've outed myself as yet another closet writer in the sea of wannabees. Anyway - I just got back from CA. I took some notes on my host family of five adults, one (my) pre teen birth daughter, and a two year old little girl:

This house is a war zone. Dirty. Wasted. Sacrificed to the go go go that is California. Walking barefoot is sure to blacken my feet upon initial contact, and I collect small flecks of hard, sticky food with each additional step. Every kitchen drawer swaggers lazily off a broken track with a bottom coated by slimy film-an ode to every former culinary experiment tested on the counter surface above. Towels are strewn about soggy and smelling of the mildew soon to be visible. I washed dishes. I mopped the floor. I did numerous loads of laundry, but soon, I too, succumbed to the insurmountable wasteland. I could only accept these truths:

1)There will be no toilet paper. There are several packages in the hall closet, but none in any of the bathrooms. The person who uses the last of it cannot be expected to replace it.

2)If you put it down, and you have not adequately hidden it, it will be gone when you return. And not because the two year old moved it. Should you be lucky enough to locate it, it will most likely be soiled, broken, sandy and/or unravelled by the time you find it.

3)Your plans to leave the house are futile. No individual is responsible for their keys or gasoline tank, thus anyone's car is subject to confiscation should it be "needed" due to someone else's misplacement of keys or lack of gasoline. Please be advised that all plans involving transportation are subject to vehicle availability.

4) Cats can hear you. If you are trying to set a trap for a Ferrel cat who has inflicted wounds on the host family's beloved house cats, forcing the owner to incur high vet costs, it is best to do so in the neighbors backyard. But if you do, be SURE to not watch the cat as it approaches said trap (even if observing from a well removed upstairs window), and to not speak too loudly (though all storm windows are shut tight) because the cat can HEAR you. It is also psychic and will not take the bait because you scared it off by watching! Hocus, pocus Discovery Channel...

5) We shall starve before we go Non-Organic! There is enough change lying about the house for a month of groceries. Food is left out to rot. Children are presented with full sized portions , most of which gets thrown away. Numerous times the "Lack of Funds" subject is raised, and I can't help but see every electric light on, every drive to the next town for a single item, the four dollar organic strawberry basket, the laptops, the cell phones, the top of the line everything...

6)The Matriarch is the Princess. The Lady of the house WILL NOT:
Clean. Ever. Come home if she doesn't want too. Adjust her plans. Accommodate guests. Touch her pets. Leave an allergy undiagnosed or unexplained. Take one for the team. Be considerate. Make a decision and stick with it. Give her undivided attention. Take responsibility. Prepare dinner for anyone but herself. Contemplate opinions contrary to her own. Take note of her own hypocrisy.

7) First come, First served. Anything you see, smell, touch or want must be had immediately. Should you require a clean bowl, a cup of coffee, a shower, CARPE DIEM! Once you have obtained what cannot be shared, busy yourself so as not to hear the whinery of the proverbial late bird. The only observed exception to this policy appears to be Rice Milk.

All in all it has been a fine trip. BD (birth daughter) and I managed to lay claim to a vehicle and run out to catch a movie. We had our knitting time and our cuddle time. She made me laugh when I least expected it and when I most needed it and several times in between. The fog visited in ernest one night, though I realized I'd made it much more beautiful in my mind (still, it beats the heck out of the MT summer heat). BD and her im-ing computer seem like they'll survive until I can manage to pull together enough funds for the next trip - hopefully she can come to me for that one. As of this writing, I am ready to pop some pills, hop a plane, and get home to the big eMpTy where my friends are, where the people are kind, where I live with my cat, where I feel most at home...

Potter Puppet Pals in

2007-08-22T17:37:00.001-07:00