Feeling much better

Today was a complete turn around from the weekend. Lots of good today.

I drove by myself, went grocery shopping and bought a new pair of shoes. I have not been driving since my brain surgery two months ago. Mostly my mom drives me around, and although she never complains I feel bad asking her to take me everywhere. So it was nice just to jump in the car and go. (When at Mayo last week, my husband let me drive home to "test" my skills...obviously they were fine).

I woke up with energy today. Maybe it was because I slept all night without interruption, but whatever it was, I was well rested. I was not lethargic and didn't even need a nap today.

I had to go into my husband's hospital today to give him something when he was in surgery. While there, I met some of the nurses who work with him. They were so nice and spoke very highly of my husband, so that was nice to hear.

I talked on the phone to my sister. I actually hadn't done this in quite awhile. Just haven't been feeling well, and didn't want to be the messenger of my all my bad medical news. She lives in New Jersey, so I don't get to see her that often. However, she is coming out here in a couple weeks.

A neighbor dropped off the best chicken noodle soup I have ever had.

Last week Max was asking me his phone number. Then he was trying to memorize it. He finally asked me to just write it down for him on a piece of paper. He then told me that he needed it because he wanted Rosie, a girl in his class, to come to his house. Today, Rosie, actually called him, and now we have "playdate" set up for next week. Despite how much they look a like, my little Max kid is SO different from his brother, who has no interest in girls at all....and I'm perfectly fine with that!!!!!!!

I got an e-mail message from the author of Diary of a Wimpy Kid, and he's going to send Cameron a signed copy of the journal. Cameron's been writing in his copy constantly, so I know he is going to love a new signed copy as well.

God has been working in so many people's lives through my struggles. Our pastor talked about when you surrender to Christ, you surrender it ALL. You don't get to pick and choose what you want to surrender. You give your LIFE to God. And that's something that I'm trying to not understand, because it is all beyond my human understanding, but rather something I'm really trying to accept and live for. To please God, whatever that means.


Proverbs 3:5 Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

Luke 14:27-28 Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple. For which one of you, when he wants to build a tower, does not first sit down and calculate the cost to see if he has enough to complete it?"

Pass on Macy's

Today I went swimsuit shopping. Now this has always been a DREADED chore each year as A. I'm never as thin as I want to be, and since having 3 kids, the incredibly adorable bikinis are out of the question, B. Because I have been so flat chested, finding one that has the illusion that I'm filling it out has always been an extreme challenge, and C. Cellulite on the butt and thighs is hard to cover up without some granny suit...and I am no granny! Now of course I have this mastectomy to deal with.

I've TRIED to find a suit that doesn't look like it should be on some 60 year old woman. But they just don't make cute ones for mastectomy patients. Lands End appears to have some decent ones specially made for mastectomy issues, but those looked better in the catalog than on me.

So today I just packed up my "swim forms" (otherwise known as fake boobs for swimming) in my backpack and headed to the local department store. I thought that just maybe I could find something that at least appeared decent on me and that had enough material on top to allow my swim forms to be covered up and look somewhat natural. After an hour and a half of wandering the swimwear area and entering the dreaded dressing room, I was able to make a few purchases that just may work out for the summer.

Unfortunately, only one of the three suits had a lining in the breast area that actually had a little slit in it, allowing me to awkwardly (but successfully), create boobs into the swimsuit. The other two did not, but I knew that Bloomingdales would create "pockets" for swimforms, for free, if you purchase the swimsuit (or other lingerie) at their store. But because of some time constraints that I was under, I couldn't make it to the only mall in the area that has a Bloomingdales, and had to settle for Macy's instead. I was right next to the lingerie department, so I figured that I'd ask if they offered the same service.

I should preface this by saying that I was already embarrassed to even ask about this. But I decided to just go for it, because if the answer was "yes," I'd have less awkward "beach issue" to deal with when going on vacation to the Jersey Shore this year. I simply told the lady in the lingerie department about the service the Bloomingdales offered, and did they happen to offer the same? Actually, my exact question was, "Do you offer the service of creating pockets in lingerie or swimwear for people who have had mastectomies?"

Well, first of all, the lady was not a native of this country, so her English was a little off, and she just didn't understand what I was talking. At first she told me that Yes, they offered a package if I wanted it. I realized that she had no idea what I was saying, so I asked again, and she assured me, that yes, I can have a package...I can get gift wrapping.

At this point, I knew my attempts at communicating what I needed were going to be futile, unless I pulled up my shirt to physically demonstrate what my issue was! By now another saleslady had joined in on the conversation. She was a native speaker, but very young, and didn't seem to realize what we were talking about either. She said that they did to alterations in the store, and that she thought the lady who did them had just picked up some items last week. But she didn't really understand what I needed. I repeated myself again, but I could feel myself turning red, as I was incredibly embarrassed, and just didn't feel like dealing with it anymore.

I think the 2nd very young saleslady finally knew what I might be talking about, as she asked if I meant the shapeware to slip into the swimsuit. Yes! I told her, that was exactly what I was referring to.

Her response....I'd have to go to the alterations area in the MEN'S Department...to find out if they even offered such a service. Now can you imagine, if 2 ladies in the LINGERIE department have no clue as to what I'm talking about, how would anyone in the Men's department be able to help me? As if I'd even ask a man!!!!! How insensitive of them!

I should have just dumped the suits and left, but because I have this trip coming up, and I didn't know if there'd be any good ones left after this weekend, I went ahead and purchased the suits. I REALLY didn't want to give Macy's my business. But I do know where I will NOT be shopping in the future.

Here's one of the suits I ended up buying. I'm not sure what I'm jealous of more, this model's body....or her hair!

Garage Sale

My husband: Cari, we have a garage full of shit.

Me: Yeah, I know. But you'd be surprised how much shit people will buy...for the right price.

Because in case you didn't know (and I'm quoting one of our customers today who bought a Patsy Cline cassette tape), "The ladies like to slow dance to Patsy Cline in the kitchen. "

During the 2nd half of tomorrow, we'll have our "anything you can fit in the grocery bag for $5" sale. Hopefully we'll get rid of all this dung then.

Summer shoes

I went sandal shopping for our trip to Florida.

When I came home with them, Max was not happy. He couldn't understand why he only got one pair of sandals, but Ella got three. I tried to explain to him that of course Ella needed three pairs...she's a girl!...brown ones for her earth-toned outfits, white ones for the rest of her outfits, and these adorable multicolor ones...well, just because they were adorable. He didn't quite think that my explanation was sufficient. In case his first pair causes blisters (from past experience), I actually ended up buying him a 2nd pair, ones that flash, like his sister's. And yet, he had to point out that Ella still had three and he only had two.

Cameron on the other hand was elated when I told him that I bought him sandals. His response, and I am quoting him here, "YES! Now I can bite my toenails with my shoes on!"

A dumb idea

Dear Grocery Store Owners,

You know those little kid-sized shopping carts that you store right next to the adult ones, as soon as you walk into the store? Why, oh why do you have them?

Parents don't like them. They cause nothing but trouble, as toddlers try to manuver the carts through the aisles as fast as they can, ramming into anything and everything, praying the whole time that the damn thing doesn't tip over when turning corners.

Other shoppers defintely don't like them, as they now must avoid these little monsters who have no "driving" skills whatsoever, trying to save their own carts, and their own ankles.

Store workers and managers can't possibly like them. It can't look good when kids are in the produce section, rubbing their germ-filled hands all over the exposed fruits and veggies. They can't possibly like it when the little munchkins drop half of what they decide to put in their cart, causing all sorts of messes. Plus, parents get frustrated much quicker, deciding to ditch the shopping experience all together, spending less money in their store.

The only person who benefits from these minature carts are the kids. And last time I checked, they weren't the ones forking over their hard-earned cash.

So please, ditch the mini-carts, and install some special cart-cages for those rambunctious kids of mine. It would be a much pleasant shopping experience all around.

Sincerely,
A frazzled mom of 3 kids

An endless search for the cause

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer back at the end of August, I never thought to myself “why me.” Actually, my initial reaction was “why not me.” I’ve led a pretty nice life. I grew up middle class. We weren’t rich…we shopped on a budget and didn’t have designer clothes, but we never went hungry and my parents always worked hard enough so that we could vacation every year. My parents never divorced, and my college was paid for. I never had any major illness..no broken bones. I didn’t have anyone in my family die until I was out of college, and no one extremely close until my grandma died a few years ago. I had no trouble getting or staying pregnant. I live in a really nice house with a wonderful husband and very healthy children. I hate to admit it, but sometimes I’d wonder when my “time” would come. When I’d have my cross to bear. When my bubble would burst. So as I write this, I don’t ask, “Why me?”

But I do ask, “Why?”

Why do I have this breast cancer?

Or maybe the real question is, “What?”

What caused this cancer?

That’s what I really want to know. Because whatever caused it, I want to change. I don’t want to ever have to go through this again. I don’t want my husband or kids to ever have to deal with me like this again.

I want to know if it was the water I’m drinking, or some contaminated food I ate. Was it the charcoal I used? Was it something I drank, or something I breathed in? Was it something medical? Something natural? Something spiritual? Some cleaning solution I used?…oh wait a minute…I’m pretty sure we can rule that out.

If I knew what caused this, then I would change. I would stop doing whatever brought on this cancer. I would stop right now.

But no one knows. There are studies that show something or other may cause cancer. But nothing is ever conclusive. And for every study that states one thing, there seems to be another that refutes or questions the findings.

I actually stress out when I go shopping now because I find myself constantly thinking…Could these very red strawberries, that look so good, but are obviously well preserved with chemicals, have been the culprit? Or what about this meat? Maybe this milk? I could go on and on and on and on.

But instead I think I’ll relax and have a glass of wine….unless of course it’s the wine that did it.

The Blues

Yesterday I had to do some shopping…at the Mall of America. If you don’t live in Minnesota, the thought of going to the mall sounds exciting. If you live here, you often dread it. It’s just so big. And walking, and walking, and walking is not what I’m really in the mood for lately.

But my mother-in-law is getting married at the end of next week, and we’re flying to Detroit for the wedding, so I needed to get a dress.

These were my requirements.

It needed to be dressy enough for a wedding.
It needed to cover my mastectomy scar.
It needed to cover my porto-cath that sticks out about half an inch.
And it needed to be either light blue, cream or navy blue. (the wedding colors)

Well, I could handle the first three requirements, but the fourth one was quite tricky. Apparently blue is not the color for winter…a lot of magenta, but not much blue.

I finally found a dress at Express, but it’s more of a teal, than a navy. But after hitting every corner department store at the mall, trying on almost every navy dress that looked presentable, I just didn’t have the energy to search anymore.

So a version of blue it will have to be…sorry Ma.

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On a totally different note…

Today when I was getting out of the shower, Cameron came into the bathroom and out of habit said, “Mom, when you’re done drying your hair, will you come downstairs and get me breakfast?”

I gave him a puzzled look with my bald head directly in his view.

“Ooops,” he grinned sheepishly. “I forgot that you got your head shaved.”

It was quite funny.

A "fun" shopping trip

Today my friend Andrea (pictured above) and I went shopping today for post-mastectomy stuff…if you know what I’m saying. Or should I say, post-mastectomy stuffing!

I’m so thankful to my friend for doing this with me. I knew it was something that I needed to do, but I have been very nervous about it and putting it off and putting it off. Without my even mentioning it to her, Andrea approached me and asked if I wanted her to go shopping with me. She even took the time to find some places online and set up an appointment for me. Honestly, somehow she knew that this is exactly what I needed someone to do for me.

I’m especially grateful because Andrea’s mom died of breast cancer when Andrea was 17, and sometimes I wonder if this brings back some very sad memories for her. But she’s been so especially helpful to me and I thank her for that.

We went to a store called, A Fitting Place, in Hastings. This was just the place that I needed to go. It was very cute, with a bunch of different rooms for various stages of the post-mastectomy/chemo process. One room was for wigs, another had swimsuits and sun hats, the front room had jewelry and inspirational knick knacks, and the back room, where I hung out, had all the necessary post-op wear.

The lady who owns the place had a sister who died from breast cancer, which inspired her to open this store. Her extensive knowledge of what I would need, the quaint décor, the Christian music playing the background, and my good friend tagging along with me, actually made this to be a very pleasant experience. I got what I needed, and now maybe when this surgery is all done, I won’t be hiding like a hermit after all.

Cellulite Haiku

Bathing suit shopping
at Mall of America
too depressed to write

Today I went to the Mall of America with my 16 year old niece who is visiting from New Jersey.

I’ve developed the following conclusion:

If I walk into a store, and there is a table that looks to me like it’s displaying underwear, but in actually it’s displaying shorts…then I need to just turn right around and find another store to shop in.

I felt VERY old (and fat) today.