The Fear Factor

About three weeks ago, the hubby found out that his cancer is most likely not gone. He first found out that he had cancer at age 30, about 4 years ago. Not easy for a thirty year old, in the prime of his life. Let alone anyone hearing they have cancer. He had a surgery, and radiation. Then, last year 2010, we found out it was not gone completely. We also found out Sunshine was on her way. He finally had a surgery again January 2011 to remove more tissue and lymph nodes. They chose not to do any further radiation as the doctors felt they had it all. Yeah, well. That didn’t happen. His latest scan, that he has done yearly, shows that he again has some “possibly” infected lymph nodes. Sigh. Three and a half years of living with this cloud over his head. Almost 4 years. He now has a daughter that is so much a part of him, and my greatest fear is that he won’t be here to see her grow up.


Now, not to be surprising, with the dark cloud looming over him the hubby has a lot of anxiety and some depression setting in. Of course, he is choosing to ignore it, but has admitted to me that he has some anxiety and depression. This leads to his quality of life not being as good as it could be. Without the strength and ability to emotionally and mentally fight the cancer, he may also not have the physical ability to fight it off as well.


We both revel in the joy that is Sunshine. We try to ignore what may happen, while we are unable to do anything about it. All we have are “what-if’s” and no answers, no ability to make plans and alter the outcome differently. We are stuck with waiting until tests come back, and the options presented for the next course of action. We live for the happy moments, and the joyful moments that Sunshine gives to us. Where it is just her that we can focus on, and the fear factor does not take hold.


So with Turkey day, I was hoping the hubby wouldn’t tell his mother about the upcoming biopsy. Selfish of me, really, but what happens is that his mom won’t call him over and over asking why we haven’t done this, why it’s taking so long, why aren’t they doing more? No. I will be the one she calls because she believes that I need to mother her son as well. The thing is that she would do all this for him, plan his appointments, push the doctor to make faster decisions and so on. I however, believe her son capable of making these choices on his own. He is a grown man, this is his health. I will support him, and will help him when he needs me to do so. Otherwise, it is his health. His mother doesn’t see it that way, so I get the phone calls asking why we haven’t pursued such and such. I didn’t want him to tell his mom yet because we know nothing. We don’t know if it is the same cancer, or if it has morphed into something else as it has moved to his lymph nodes. We don’t know anything. So why worry, why let fear take hold until we can do something about it?


My idea of coping with this is to just let it go, forget about it until we have more information and can make a decision about what to do next. I want to enjoy life, not focus on the cloud overhead. We know its there. We know it will have to be dealt with, but why sweat the rain and clouds when they are not here yet? Why not still go an enjoy the fine overcast day ahead? We will appreciate it for its dryness, and deal with the rain later.


It sucks living in fear. It sucks being reminded that we should be worried, but I just can’t bring myself to acknowledge out loud that the storm is still here. We are just sitting in the eye of the hurricane it seems. The calm before the storm. Just wish he didn’t have to tell her because now I won’t be allowed to forget. Her way of coping is talking about it, calling me over and over, trying to control and manage it in her own way. I will be reminded again of what is out of my control, and what we are facing again. I will be forced to acknowledge my worst fears, when I’d rather live happily in ignorant bliss, or perhaps blissfully resolute in cherishing what we have right now.


Is this naive of me? Perhaps, but I believe it’s a better way to live.

Weirdest. Dream. Ever

Dream Symbols Website

Dream Symbols Website

So, I have to credit this post to Chantanee.  My favorite Thai restaurant that we went to yesterday, in which I ate Garlic Crispy Chicken (a.k.a. King’s Favorite Chicken)  and I was sick for the rest of night for some reason, and then proceeded to have the weirdest, fubard dreams, ever. Note: The last time we went to Chantanee, I was pregnant and had the same dish. Came home not feeling so well again. Have realized the pregnancy has done something to my ability to handle garlic. ‘No garlic for you!’

My dream, oddly, went something like this. I was in the hospital (Surprisingly looked a lot like Grey’s Anatomy “Seattle Grace Hospital.” Which is funny cause it doesn’t exist people). I was about to go in for an emergency c-section. (Again, odd because I didn’t look the least bit preggers).  In my dream, I knew I was having a boy, but no one else knew because it was too early to know the sex. Somehow I had my own super intuition thing going on, and was communicating with my fetus! (Why the F! would I be having a c-section then? In my dream I have this awesome narrating discussion with myself wondering about what was occurring).

I was on a cold hard table, and the doctor was placing this purple stuff all over my belly, and making a dotted line where she was going to cut on my lower abdomen.  (Again, totally weird because the doctor looked a lot like my daughter’s pediatrician).  I started to have a panic attack, this is not strange, but quite normal for me really.  I wanted someone there to hold my hand.  I tried calling my husband, who was somewhere in the hospital with our daughter (who looked to be about 3-4 years of age. She is only 5 months old).

So, I put on a hospital gown and headed outside where I could get cell reception. Because obviously, I am about to have a c-section, I have complete use of my legs as they have not numbed me, and while I did call my hubby inside the hospital, him not picking up meant there was no cell service inside.  Whatever.

I called my mother, and poof. She was there. Next thing I know, I am on the cold hard table again, and my tummy is wide open and I can see everything they are doing.  Out comes this little tiny baby boy, and then the shit really hits the fan.  (Warning: some might think I was on drugs from what occurred next. Honestly, I am not sure I didn’t take something last night. Lorazepam does that sort of thing).

My daughter, poof, appears.  She looks like a cross between the little girl who played Matilda, and the scenes of Annie Banks when she was a little girl, from the movie Father of the Bride.  She seems to be all glowy and says, “Mom, I have to save James. I will let you know when it is safe.”  She grabs hold of baby James (which is what we decided we would name our son if we had one) and poof… disappears.

That is when my mother and I are attacked by super villains with super powers.  You know the dude who plays Gambit in the movie Wolverine?  He has gone bad and is trying to take away my daughter and son because for some reason they have super powers.  (How this information just came to me all out of the blue, no idea.  But the dream had a lot of “poofing” so I figure that information was part of that).

Next thing I know, I am running through fields out in the wilderness. A lot like Lord of the Rings, really. I see my husband across the field, and then poof, he looks a lot like Leo from Charmed, and I looked a lot like Piper.  Then, what happens next?  All these blue smurfs emerge from the forest and yell “No, no, no.”  I am now one of those smurfs. In fact, I am Papa Smurf.  (WTF?!)  I shout, “Drop Leo.  They are dark lighters.”  All of a sudden, my hubby, Leo disappears, then reappears about 100 yards back, in the sky and he is expelled out of a black hole type vortex.

Me, as Papa Smurf, says, “Oh no!  He has lost his wings.” And I secretly knew, as all the other smurfs new, that the dark lighters would get him.  But what appears are not dark lighters in the shape of humans, but in the shape of wargs from Lord of the Rings.  (Yeah. Told you this was weird).  To my right, I see Storm, Wolverine, Beast, Wonder Woman, and Superman all fighting bad guys on a pier next to water. (Don’t have any idea where the water came from, let alone super heroes). Next thing I knew I had closed my eyes because I didn’t want to see what happened next.

When I opened my eyes again, still dreaming, I see my daughter and my son, who is now about the age of 2, standing close to each other.  There is this bad guy, who looks like a cross between a Death Eater from Harry Potter, and the bad dude from Extraordinary Gentleman. He is grasping his head like he is in some kind of inner turmoil, or maybe an alien taking over his brain sort of thing.

Next I know I am looking from the eyes of my son, who is communicating without speaking to his sister.  This is what we are saying to each other.  Sunshine: “We should help him.  We could fix all of this if we help.”  Little Brother: “We can’t.  We will change the course of the future.  We can’t alter time.”  Sunshine: “But we could change the future for the better.  We could help him find peace.” Little Brother: “We can’t. We could. But its better if he finds out on his own, Discovers the truth on his own.”

They grasp hands, my daughter who is 4.5 years older than she is right now, with her yet unborn/not-conceived sibling. There is a brilliant, glorious flash and they are gone.

And I wake up.


Now tell me that’s not some super, weird ass, stuff?!! Where did my mind come up with this crap?  Well, I am saying this now: If ever anyone reads this and decides to make a movie from it without consulting me… I am claiming my rights! I will sue you for it all, baby! Who can combine DC Comics, Marvel Comics, Smurfs, Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter/Extraordinary Gentleman, with Grey’s Anatomy?!  Cause this is my brain on drugs, er… medications and garlic. And I am f ‘ing brilliant. Even in my sleep!

The Dentist, Drugs, and a ….dingo?

It was a cloudy day today. I anxiously twisted my hands together and waited for my mother to show up to escort me to. The DENTIST.  (insert da-da-dum)

My trauma with the dentist started at a very young age.  Picture this:  First time at dentist.  Family on welfare.  Asshole Dentist. Five year old. First cavities. Family on welfare.  Asshole Dentist.  Fill cavities without giving child Novocaine or pain medication. Five year old.  Screaming.

Picture this: 33-year-old. Still screaming (although self-contained and screaming inside mostly). Sick to stomach, and now with a 4 month old greedily grabbing at the orb to get milk.  AFTER, I have already taken my anti-anxiety medication.  Sigh…..

So. What I have noticed is that I want to be a good role model for Sunshine, and for her to see her mommy all worked up about going to the dentist… Not so good. Can’t wait until I have to go with her to the dentist. Lord.  I will have to get my husband to take her as I won’t be able to drive.

Here is the deal. I must have a crown put in, plus a cavity to be filled. Bad enamel runs in my family, and well… it is just a period of time before I’d have to have this done.  I, however, put off seeing the dentist quite a bit. It isn’t actually the issue of being there, at the dentist. At least not any more.  It is the build up of the day before and actually going to the appointment where my anxiety gets so high, I might pass out.

I loaded myself up with so much medication that I am not able to drive, and I begin to see things that are not there.

Today I sat in the chair, and listened to Sunshine chat away with my mother in the front room. I believe the staff in the office wished to keep her and make her their mascot. She did such a great job, and I found I was more attuned to her and how she was doing, then whatever drilling they were doing.  It was funny, though. I started telling them what I thought each drill sounded like in my head.  One drill, sounded like the cars at Nascar races…. VRROOOOMMMM!  It made my brain in my head rattle back and forth. I swear! Can someone get a TBI from overuse of drills in the mouth?  Something to ponder.

What I often do when at the dentist, is start humming songs.  Today, I started humming B-I-N-G-O song, but for some reason, call it drug induced hilarity, I was singing DINGO instead.  The nurses were cracking up, I was cracking up… and I could hear my daughter laughing in the other room.

Did I actually see a Dingo?  No.  I might as well have for all the funniness that was going on.  Who knew how funny one could get while going to the dentist.  Now. If only someone could help me with this pain in my mouth for the next 2 weeks, THAT would be impressive.