That was me, a year ago from last night. I was in New York
City- my favorite place in the entire world. That was before my diagnosis and
the after effects of realizing that death may be closer than I expected. Wow, I am always amazed at how big my nostrils are.
I entered a raffle for Oprah’s Life Class and received two
tickets to see Oprah and Tony Robbins live at Radio City Music Hall. Yes, the
place where I should have spent my early 20’s dancing if I hadn’t been
short-changed in the height category ,thus keeping me from forever becoming a
Rockette. ( I am still wondering if I have a valid discrimination case. Anyone
know a good lawyer? ) My husband and I
both like Tony Robbins and, of course, who DOESN’T like Oprah? I had to be very careful to keep Mr. LSM away
from Ms. Winfrey, though. She is the one woman he would leave me for in a
heartbeat, even more than Janet Jackson. His
words. He values money over looks.
Guess he wasn’t very focused when he chose me. ;)
It was a very short, but very wonderful trip. I was given
two free flights from a former student of mine and good family friend, who now
works for Southwest. Also, one of my childhood best friends has a condo in the
city. She happened to be out of town, so we got to stay there. This trip was
the second thing I had done since having my son in 2008, that was totally and
selfishly all about me. The first was me
taking my big pregnant self to a Maxwell concert. Otherwise, everything else I
had done in the last 4 years was always about someone else or for someone or
something else.
When I had my son I went from working long hours at
a high school, constant interaction with students, parents, teachers to working
from home, all alone with only a baby to talk to and a tired husband who came
home to a very needy wife. I am sure there were days when he wished he could
physically remove his ears. Becoming a mom was a huge change for me, especially
when I had spent the last 10 years taking care of myself. I am sure all moms can identify. Of
course, it is totally worth the sacrifice,
but I found myself missing some of the spunkiness of the me “BK”- Before Kids. The real me. The me who loves adventure
and new places and things. The me who would travel to NYC at least once a year
just to sit in Central Park for hours watching the leaves fall or the snow fall.
The me, who spent every waking moment dreaming of all the exciting things I
still have left to do and accomplish in this life. I found
her that night, on the cab ride from the airport to my friend’s apartment and
then walking around Fairway Market where I took that picture of me wearing the
most amazing smile.
When I returned home 3 days later, I was grateful to see my
little ones and immediately went right back to me in the role of mom and wife
and everything was back to the “new normal.” Only that normal was soon to
disappear as well. Two months later I was diagnosed with malignant melanoma,
and for about a month, I was a numb shell of my former self, so very far away
from who I really am.
I had my surgery and
spent the next month being the most grateful person on this earth. I was so
thankful and relieved and ready to change the world and change myself. I was
going to give back and stop wasting time and do big, no HUGE things. But there wasn’t enough time for that. I still
had to take care of my kids (which I adore). There was no recent lottery win,
so I still had to work a full time job.
So now, I wasn’t just a busy mom who had little time to take care of
herself, I was a busy, amazingly lucky/blessed mom who was given a second shot
of life but would be doing very little to pay back that amazing gift and live
life to its fullest.
That’s when crazy set in. I began to question every choice I
have ever made. I was certain that this was just a short lived chance at life
and pretty much, I was near the end. I
wanted to be selfish. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to live life and do what I wanted to do because
after all, life is short. That’s what everyone always says, but you don’t
believe it until someone tells you that you have an incurable disease. Suddenly life
really is short, short as hell. Everything and everyone in my life had gone
back to normal, like nothing had ever happened, like nothing had changed. There
I was living right beside them, in the same home, in the same town, but I was
anything but normal. I would forever be changed and no one could see it. The
scar on my neck was healing nicely and quickly, but everything inside of me was
still raw and fresh and wounded.
Fortunately, the love I have for my husband and my children,
kept crazy from lasting too long, but now I am just living in a funk. I am
scared to do things I used to do. I can’t run outside. I can’t walk out
among the trees to feel closer to God, because the sun is out there, just beyond
the trees. Every day that I get caught
up in the craziness of life, I feel guilty for not taking care of myself- for
not eating as good as I should, for not exercising, because Lord knows, if anyone
should be exercising it’s someone who has the chance of cancer recurrence. I
feel bad for not writing in my blog as much, because most days I am either too
busy or too down. I feel like a failure for not reaching my goals- goals of
getting in shape, starting my own business, spreading awareness to young people
by doing presentations at local schools, spending quality time with my husband
and kids, taking care of my mom. So many goals, and each day I can just muster
the time and strength the get most of my work done, feed my family and my dog, like
a few statuses and pictures on Facebook, envy others for feeling like they are
still just a tad bit immortal, and think about what may happen if I don’t take
care of myself.
It's been a very long time since I have felt normal. Not "normal" by society's standards, I have never EVER been, but normal for me.
I know this funk won’t last forever. At least, I really hope
it won’t. I definitely don't want this to turn into my "normal." Melanoma warriors often talk about our scars. When we do, it's usually the ones we get from
our surgeries and our biopsies. It’s really amazing how quickly those physical
scars heal and begin to blend into the new you. But no one really talks about
the other scars, the ones that tear us up inside and still feel fresh months and,
I imagine, years after. We can’t urge one another to rub some vitamin E oil on
those.
Thank you for reading. Until next time, practice safe sun.
