I walked into the local Weight Watchers with my mother and sister in tow. Along with the Life. Love. Cancer. website, having my mother and sister join me was part of my birthday present. I know that all sorts of nasty things lurk in our medical history and I knew too that I couldn’t do it by myself, so what better way to kill two birds with one stone? Oh how my stomach rolled as we waited our turn to register. I knew what the scale would say and I knew what a hellish road this would be.

We registered and waited for the meeting to be over so we could attend the Getting Started portion of the sign-up. The leader was nice enough but I knew right then and there that she wasn’t someone I could listen to. The woman had joined Weight Watchers to lose 25lbs over thirty years ago! There was no way in the world she could relate to someone like me who had over a hundred pounds to lose! Still, I listened and I took it all in.

In addition to the meetings I am also tracking my progress on-line. So far the message boards are awesome! I think they will make a huge difference.

As far as progoress…

I think I am okay. My birthday was on 03/19, the same day I registered, but I officially started on 03/20. That same Friday I found myself feeling dreadful. As my luck would have it, I ended up with yet another sinus infection AND another bout of pneumonia. So more trips to the physician, more antibiotics and more days under the radar. All I wanted to do was sleep!

Still, I managed to drink my water. I ate and recorded. Then I was ill and starving and I wasn’t at all sure how to account for throwing up in my journal. I mean, I didn’t eat anything else because I didn’t want to blow my points but seriously, I was starving! Saturday and Sunday led to all day sleeping for me. I woke after 8pm and ate a full meal on both occasions and since I was too lazy to really tally up the points I just put down the max number for the days and marked twenty more off my weekly extras.

I can’t believe that I’ve kept up with the water. I don’t like it and I know there are other options but this seems a good habit to get into. I’m hoping that it will pay off in the end when I attend my first weigh-in on Thursday.

What else…

Oh yes. This whole being thirty-two thing is quite grand! I find that I am so excited by the fact that I am a whole bona fide thirty-two that not much can get me down. Seriously, I have twice reached my expected date of expiration and I have a feeling once I get this eating and exercising thing down pat I will find remission close at hand. I have far too much to live for, too many things to do before I die.

The Other Mother and I are doing well. I wish we could chat more, but with both of us leading full lives, it’s challenging. I’ve opened up to her a bit more and I have found it to be quite a good thing. She’s not using it against me, but rather she is understanding. I must say she has great taste in birthday gifts! I am so glad that we have reached this place. It is my hope that as time goes by our alliance is only strengthened.

The Knight and I are who we are. We have talked a lot lately and sorted out some things. I don’t think any marriage is without trials and tribulations. For now I am cutting both of us a little more slack because, truth be told, we’re run ragged. It’s hard to be anything other than exhausted when you’re run ragged.

I like the person that I’m becoming. Oh it’s still me. I’m not likely to change at the core of who I am but the core never was the problem. So with a few pounds shed and a load lighter in spirit, I’m living life out loud with no fear.

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Awake only long enough to take my next dose of medicine, I paused to check the news. It is with many tears and a heavy heart that I read about the passing of Jade Goody. As I still revel in reaching my thirty-second birthday, my joy is quieted in light of the passing of such a courageous woman.

Please rest in peace, Jade Goody.

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So it’s the day before my birthday. A birthday they swore I would never see. Tomorrow I will be able to rejoice and celebrate the fact that I was one of the lucky ones who defied the odds. Oh, I know that I’m not out of the woods yet. If I would forget, the neatly lined prescription bottles on my desk would remind me that I have a long way to go. Still, to be here, to be alive when they said I wouldn’t be…it’s just amazing.

As part of my new plan for living out loud, tomorrow is the day that I will officially begin Weight Watchers. I’ve dusted off my treadmill(a gift from Mama who was no longer using it), found my Nikes, and asked The Knight for a great pedometer. My refrigerator is full of frozen vegetables, low-fat milk and yogurt and the all important water bottle. Though I have tried to Weight Watchers before, it’s different this time. Back then it was just about losing weight. This time around it’s about changing my lifestyle and my relationship with food. (And I found the coolest journal to use while I am doing this. Catalina told me that writing things down really helped her in her weight loss journey, so I am taking my friends advice and giving it a go!)

Since I am making 2009 the year that I become a better version of myself, I am also attending Sex 2.0 in Washington, DC in May. With great speakers and great bloggers in attendance I can’t imagine a better way to mix and meet and find out how I can do more by way of activism. I feel that after four years of blogging it’s time to do more with my site than offer a peek into my own life and give readers reviews. While I admit that some of the things will be easier to do in a larger city, I’m hoping to find ways to help and spread the word here in Pittsburgh and I can’t think of a better way to get started than by spending time with people like Audacia Ray and Elizabeth Wood. I look forward to seeing everyone there, so be sure to register. {If you can’t attend but you’d like to show your support you can do so here.}

If you’re making 2009 your own year of self-discovery through weight loss, activism or even through writing (I’m determined that this is the year I see my writing published), drop me a line. I’d love to hear more about your plans and your goals. Maybe we can offer one another support along the way.

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Please join me in celebrating a wonderful new home for Life. Love. Cancer! After months of thinking about it and wondering which direction to go with it, Life. Love. Cancer. will now have its own dot com.

We’re still working on it, tweaking and perfecting bits and pieces but so far, it’s a go. Not only will the articles have a place to live that is safe for work (and sharing among friends and family!) we will also be carving out a place for all things related. From news about the latest cancer research and technologies to relationship advice, Life. Love. Cancer. will cover it all.(For those who have asked for a place to share your thoughts on childhood abuse, we’ve included that too! As survivors, a place to gather and celebrate will be a wonderful addition.)

Thanks to everyone who made it possible. All the late night chats, last minute design tips, and pep talks really have paid off. Please be sure to join us and let us know what you think**.

**If you’re interested in contributing to Life. Love. Cancer please email us at [email protected]

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I suppose I have been lazy enough this week, so I’ll take the time to do a post and let you know how things have been going. If there are lots of typos and errors with my grammar, just blame the meds and don’t give me too much of a hard time, please.

Monday was the first day of the second phase of the clinical trial. I didn’t expect it to go smoothly because nothing ever does, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought it might be. This time around they won’t be giving me anti-seizure medication. It’s part of their control plan and they want to be sure that the chemo is actually doing the trick. If you ever want to feel like a guinea pig, take part in a clinical trial. At the end of the day you will know your place in the world, I promise!

So Monday they gave me two bags of intravenous chemo. It was to be my loading dose of meds but I will also go back in six weeks for two more bags. In the interim I am on three other chemo drugs by mouth. I take one drug for one week then two others for six more weeks. I have a schedule set up on my Nintendo DS to keep me on track, because there is no way that I would be able to keep it all straight on my own simply because my brain isn;t what it used to be.

The oncologist is the same bitch that I had before that insisted on treating me differently because I was (as she put it) “so grotesquely overweight.” I filed a complaint and she was brought in front of the hospital board and fined for her behavior. Needless to say, she is not happy with me and she let me know it. I have lost eleven pounds since my last appointment and her response to it was (and I quote) “Given how overweight you are, eleven pounds is really nothing but I will make a note of it on your chart.” So, I filed yet another complaint. I *know* that I’m fat. The whole world knows that I’m fat. If she has an issue with it, then she needs to deal with it and *not* hold it against me while I am participating in the trial. It’s unprofessional behavior, period.

Since it is a controlled clinical trial they do not give any other meds to patients outside of the ones that they have already requested/disclosed. So it is up to each patient to discuss pain medication and anti-nausea meds with their primary care physician. Since I am not covered for anything cancer related under our insurance I had to see someone other than my primarcy care physician who only covers insurance related things. It was an all day trip by car to see my old primary care physician but in the end it was worth it. He gladly did an exam, looked at the information in my records, then sent me on my way with pain *and* nausea relief. Yay for my doctor!!!

{Let me take a minute to tell you how awesome Mama has been. She did all the driving on Tuesday so that The Knight could work. She helped me fill out the papers I needed to fill out and made sure I was okay during the car ride. She took the day off to help me so that this time around I could have something to help me deal with chemo a little better than before. She is so unbelievably awesome!}

As for The Knight and I…

That’s a post for another time; a time when the wounds haven’t been rubbed raw and time has numbed me just a little more. God knows we’re trying, struggling with ourselves and with one another, to get through this with our love in tact. I don’t know that it will work, but at least we can say we tried, right?

:::sigh:::

But for the grace of God go I

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Right now I sit here wrapped in a tattered old towel, still dripping from a lukewarm shower. My fingers tremble and my tummy is rolling. I know that this is really nothing new, this visiting the oncologist. It’s old hat. Still, it isn’t and I am so very nervous…and excited…and terrified.

Today begins Phase II of the clinical trial and nothing else matters. Not my marriage. Not our finances. Not the fact that my 32nd birthday is right around the corner. I am focused simply on the here and now, on the possibilities and promises this next phase hold for me and my life.

My bag is packed for the day ahead. My pink laptop. My pink Zune. My pink Nintendo DS. A blank notebook to jot down thoughts and questions. Everything I need to keep the boredom at bay until my turn comes.

I need to be present. I need to let all the rest slip away and stay focused on remission. One step, then another and another until I get to where I want to be. Oh yes, being alive now, when they swore I wouldn’t be is a huge thing, but it is not enough. Only remission is enough.

So this moment, this day is for me. For my health; for my well-being; for the rest of my life.

May today be as full of hope and promise for each and every one of you.

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If you’ve read here for any length of time there is no doubt that you are aware of the fact that I’m married. You also know that it was a long time coming, the ring and the proposal, then the actual marriage. I spent years hoping and praying that one day The Knight would finally marry me.

Knowing that I have probably written about our relationship with little more than passing honesty, I have decided to set the record straight. Please know that it has taken me a long time to get to this point. I never in my life could have imagined that something that was seemingly perfect would end up being the hardest thing ever to be a part of on a day to day basis.

There are moments when his tenderness takes my breath away. His smile and his gentle words envelope me and warm me like the sweet summer sun. His arms encircle me and I can’t help but feel safe, as if our relationship will never be anything other than a marriage made in Heaven. In those moments it is so easy to see why I feel as if I’m about to take flight.

Then it happens like it always does and we fight like the worst enemies. Small skirmishes develop into full world wars and the gloves are off. Accusations fly about perceived unfairness in the way we treat the children, about how I have come between him and his sons. I can’t help but cry as I look at him with new eyes. How can this be the same man who swears I am the very definition of perfection? How can he scream about how he can’t stand me, how he would love to slash his wrists just to escape me when only moments before he was swearing I was the best thing that had ever happened to him?

When the dust settles and the smoke clears my heart is battered and bruised. Thought of suicide tumble around inside my brain and self-hatred settles in like a long lost friend. It used to be that it would go away after a day, maybe two. Now, it’s a constant companion- the only one I have it seems. I cry and I write, desperate to figure out which one of us is right and which one of us is wrong. I question every action, every word that has passed between us and I call into question my own feelings and emotions.

I always thought that love, true love, was supposed to lift you up. I believed that the love of the right man could set you free and help you to see yourself in a new and positive light. I used to think that five dollar words and compliments from the man of your dreams would work their magic and you would go on to live happily ever after.

Then I fell in love, head over heels, foolishly and wholly in love.

Now I know that the love of a man isn’t all its cracked up to be. It’s pain and heart break. It’s self-doubt and self-hatred all wrapped up in a gorgeous blue-eyed package. It’s a mindfuck of the very worst sort that leaves you in a sobbing pile on the blood drenched bathroom tile because cutting is the only way to know that you’re still alive.

I know marriage is hard. I know that there are ups and downs; highs and lows. I know that life and stress and world events can upset the delicate balance. But why does he have to be so angry all the time? If he’s not happy and he wants out, why doesn’t he just go? Surely being left is better and would hurt less than living a lie day after day while it slowly tears me apart from the inside out. I can’t be the only one who realizes and accepts this as the truth, can I?

I have no ides where to go or what to do. He has stayed with me despite the whole cancer thing. He’s taken care of me the best way he knows how, provided food and shelter and help with the most basic of things. I can’t help but feel as if I owe him to some extent. Just not at the expense of myself and my well-being. I don’t believe that I am in the wrong by drawing a line at mental and emotional abuse when I can see the effect it’s having on me and the people I love (the children).

So there you have it.

I’m sorry that I have painted a less than accurate picture of the way things are. I guess I was hoping for things to improve. Maybe I believed that whisful thinking would be more than enough. Either way, now you all know the true state of our union. {I intentionally left the whole sex and D/s things to put into a post of their own because they need a place with plenty of space.}

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Somewhere in the house there are other people; people with voices and thoughts and feelings but I can’t be bothered with them. Not now. Not today.

The headache is raging out of control. I wish for relief and find little in a small white pill placed on my tongue and swallowed down with Mountain Dew. Maybe if I could silence the voice, the internal commentary that runs on endlessly. Maybe then I could relax and free myself from hellish pain. No migraine ever hurt as bad as this.

This week it seems that I’ve barely been hanging on or hanging in. Sick kids, The Knight working from home and on almost constant teleconferences (yes, he extended his work from home time and it is a mixed blessing) and my father having surgery. Add the news that my aunt is terminal, my grandmother is worse, and the monthly heating bill was astronomical and one can see why I might be a wee bit stressed.

Only in the middle of the night does it seem I may find relief. The day’s over and the house falls silent. Only the sound of the T passing outside the door can be heard. I snuggle beneath the comforter and lose myself in his arms, content for a moment to be as close as two people can be.

The pain medicine begins to work just as his mouth finds mine. His fingertips stroke my skin, inviting a response. My mouth opens and soon my thighs follow. For a moment I am hopeful, thinking that maybe tonight is the night that it will happen the way I wish it would; without prompting or begging and without a fight.

He moves and positions us both, his hips against my bottom. His cock is hard and I know that once more he is ready while I am only just getting started. I sigh as he enters me, as he barely notices the fact that I’m not wet. I close my eyes and focus on the image in my mind, think of a time and place where sex was good and fulfilling.

He finishes with a low sigh and a squeeze of my buttocks. He presses his lips to the small of my back and whispers his love. With a smile and a “Love you, too” I slide out of bed as he slides back into his boxers.

In the bathroom, in the dark I find what I want and what I need. I empty myself, cleanse myself of his come, and I silently begin to cry. Finally I can breathe; at long last my world- my mind -is quiet.

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I’m very disheartened right now. I’m trying hard not to whine and moan and rant about how unfair life is. I am not going to handle it that way. I’m determined.

I received a call about a half an hour ago from the oncologist. It looks as if  the second phase of the clinical trial has been postponed for at least two weeks. So, here we are, once more in a holding pattern with the treatments. The same thing happened last time, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, I can’t help but be somewhat disappointed.

And scared.

What if the time without the medication has afforded the cancer an opportunity to spread? And what about the seizures that have returned? How am I supposed to handle those for two more weeks without anti-seizure meds? We’re handling them for now but there are too many unknowns to be comfortable with it.

:::deep breath:::

This is only a minor bump in the road. A small hiccup. Two weeks isn’t very long and I’m sure that things will be fine. I just need to continue to control my thoughts and my reactions to the change of plans.

And so it goes…

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If you’ve read here for any length of time you probably know way too much about my ex-husband and his new wife. No doubt I have exposed you to far too many one-sided and slanted retellings of events, conversations and mishaps. If that is the case, please accept my apologies for being so…childish…petulant…immature.

Somewhere in all of the she said, I said or he said, we said bullshit there was a major breakdown. As a parent I lost sight of the two most precious things in the world, the real reasons for laying differences and petty behaviors aside. I focused on the fact that there was someone else in their life that wasn’t me. I obsessed and stressed; I ranted and raved but not once did I ever stop to think about what it might be like for my little girls.

Being diagnosed with cancer didn’t open my eyes to the reality as far as our whole situation went. It opened my eyes to the importance of love and security on some level I suppose, but not on the level that it made me change my behaviors as a parent. Writing this now is more than difficult, because I never wanted to be that kind of former spouse, that kind of parent. Acknowledging that I ended up that way is hard and humiliating as can be.

Finding out that the chemotherapy used in the clinical trial had worked was like a gift from God. A personal gift and open invitation to start living my life the way it should have been lived all along. No more excuses, no more bullshit, just honest living and loving, the way I should have been doing all along.

At about the same time my daughters step-mother blogged about some of the things that were on her mind. The things were less than flattering and as I read them it was devastating that someone in this world felt that way about me. I thought I was an okay person. Not a person without faults or a person who couldn’t improve but a decent person none the less. After reading what she wrote, I was a breath away from wishing for death.

As I usually do when something is on my mind, I curled into a ball and cried like a baby. Part of me wanted to scream and throw things, exclaim at the top of my lungs that she wasn’t right about me. I wanted to knock on doors and shout that I wasn’t the evil, self-absorbed bitch that she thought I was. But I couldn’t very well do that without admitting that while every story does indeed have two sides, every side does have its facts. Hers was no exception.

So I whined and I cried. I snapped at my husband. I cried and ate cookies. Then I emailed her with facts instead of excuses. I didn’t care what Joe Blow might think of me as much as I cared what SHE thought of me. But why did it matter so much all of a sudden?

The truth be told, it wasn’t all of a sudden. It was always there, the need to find some middle ground, a safe space to share with one another the things that mothers (biological, step or otherwise) need to share. We didn’t have it and I think I can safely say that we both felt the absence keenly.

For me, as a step-mother, I know the position that she is in to an extent. While she lives with my girls day in and day out, I live with The Knights sons day in and day out. While she may have the girls all the time and I have the guys all the time, the fact remains that we’re raising another woman’s biological children. As so many blended families can attest to, this is no easy thing to do, even if the other woman is your closest friend. Can you imagine trying to do it when the other person is fighting you every step of the way?

I didn’t want them to like her more than me. I didn’t want them to want to be with her more than they wanted to be with me. I certainly didn’t want them to love her. I wanted all of them to be only for me! (This has been the same for sharing them with The Knight as well and only recently has it been addressed and an effort made to NOT be that way.)

I realize now that having those desires and that mindset only served to put the girls in the middle of what basically amounted to an emotional and metal war zone. I can’t go back and undo what has been done. They are beyond the age of kissing and cuddling the hurts away so only love and honesty will do. I can’t change what came before, but I can change what happens from here on out.

Through all of this it seems that The Other Mother (I think that will be her name on here…I will have to ask her what she thinks) and I have found our way to a place where the white flag waves. So with each tentative step and each stifled impulse to dive right in, I suddenly find myself breathing a little easier. (And as crazy as it sounds, I find myself wanting to get to know her, like someone I’ve just met for the first time; I find myself wanting to open up and call her friend!) All I know is that it feels really damn good to have muddled through the muck and the mire to find that blessed middle ground.

{Now I have to wonder if it’s more courageous to leave the posts from the past or get rid of them? They fill me with shame and I don’t want the people who read here to think that my words are all that there is to the woman who is The Other Mother to my girls. Opinions welcome!}

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