Sunday, June 22, 2014
Saturday, June 21, 2014
Where did I put that darned tumor anyway?
Oh yeah, somewhere in Baltimore. In a petri dish, or where ever they put things that need to be medically examined and biopsied. What I do know is, that I am in Reston and my brain tumor is NOT!
I am not sure exactly how I feel. Or if I am supposed to feel a particular way.
My greatest fear, I think, was of the possible impairments that could have come with this tumor, and with surgery on my brain. It's kind of a big deal. I was told that the tumor was completely removed and was benign. Two good things to hear.
I am going to be on seizure medications for a while because brains are not happy when they have hands messing around in their space. Not sure if there will be side effects or not. Probably too soon to say.
One of the medications, that was intended to protect my gut from the irritating medications, instead, had an opposite effect. Fortunately I think I know my body well enough to figure that out and take care of it before getting too depleted from diarrhea.
I want to sleep. But I don't want to miss anything. Like my kids when they were little I guess. Oh, what mother doesn't long for her little ones to nap, only to fight with them because they are so present and want to be in every moment. And why does it take so many years, after the napping battles have passed, to realize the futility of the battle.
So, I am 60. Still. For most of another year. I feel so ready to be done with diseases. Forever. And ever. I guess that isn't an option. But one can hope.
Courtney put a picture of my head. scar on my caring bridge page. I am going to put it here too. This picture was taken shortly after my surgery I would say. I have washed my head a few times since then, but it still looks strange having a train track's worth of staples in my head. Funny though, they don't feel like anything.
My arms and one foot are all bruised up. Lots of needles, IVs, blood tests and blood gasses. I had a catheter too, but only vaguely remember that (thank goodness).
One thing I knew going into this was how loved I was. I am. I know I am. Courtney and Carol and Nick all had to see me suffering, unable to speak and in pain. I know that they were really frightened and would have done anything possible to care for me. And they did. They held my hand when I squeezed so hard I know it had to hurt them. They helped me in intimate ways that only family can. Hospital personnel do their jobs and comfort and clean you, but not with the love that your trusted family does.
How do I say this so that it makes sense? I feel that, in many ways, I have chosen a life that is not always easy. Being a wife. Being a mother. Being a sister who really knows the depth of the love that only the two of us can know. These are things that take time and energy. But, they are the best gifts I could have ever given myself as well. How many people are so lucky to know that they can have complete trust in the people closest to them? Wow.
My head may be down one tumor, but my heart is filled up a million sizes more than before.
I am not sure exactly how I feel. Or if I am supposed to feel a particular way.
My greatest fear, I think, was of the possible impairments that could have come with this tumor, and with surgery on my brain. It's kind of a big deal. I was told that the tumor was completely removed and was benign. Two good things to hear.
I am going to be on seizure medications for a while because brains are not happy when they have hands messing around in their space. Not sure if there will be side effects or not. Probably too soon to say.
One of the medications, that was intended to protect my gut from the irritating medications, instead, had an opposite effect. Fortunately I think I know my body well enough to figure that out and take care of it before getting too depleted from diarrhea.
I want to sleep. But I don't want to miss anything. Like my kids when they were little I guess. Oh, what mother doesn't long for her little ones to nap, only to fight with them because they are so present and want to be in every moment. And why does it take so many years, after the napping battles have passed, to realize the futility of the battle.
So, I am 60. Still. For most of another year. I feel so ready to be done with diseases. Forever. And ever. I guess that isn't an option. But one can hope.
Courtney put a picture of my head. scar on my caring bridge page. I am going to put it here too. This picture was taken shortly after my surgery I would say. I have washed my head a few times since then, but it still looks strange having a train track's worth of staples in my head. Funny though, they don't feel like anything.
 |
| I think that the option of colorful beads should have been offered! |
My arms and one foot are all bruised up. Lots of needles, IVs, blood tests and blood gasses. I had a catheter too, but only vaguely remember that (thank goodness).
One thing I knew going into this was how loved I was. I am. I know I am. Courtney and Carol and Nick all had to see me suffering, unable to speak and in pain. I know that they were really frightened and would have done anything possible to care for me. And they did. They held my hand when I squeezed so hard I know it had to hurt them. They helped me in intimate ways that only family can. Hospital personnel do their jobs and comfort and clean you, but not with the love that your trusted family does.
How do I say this so that it makes sense? I feel that, in many ways, I have chosen a life that is not always easy. Being a wife. Being a mother. Being a sister who really knows the depth of the love that only the two of us can know. These are things that take time and energy. But, they are the best gifts I could have ever given myself as well. How many people are so lucky to know that they can have complete trust in the people closest to them? Wow.
My head may be down one tumor, but my heart is filled up a million sizes more than before.
Thursday, June 12, 2014
So many emotions
I am getting close to the end of being someone with a tumor. That's fine. I am looking forward to that. But, as I have said before, I am scared. Scared of the surgery and the pain. Scared of being disappointment that my recovery will be slow. Scared that I will be changed somehow.
I am tired of being tired. I feel really lucky to have so many people in my life who really care and worry about me. And I feel badly that I have put them through this. Especially my family. I know, it was not my idea to get a brain tumor. I am afraid of how it will effect everyone if things don't go as planned.
In 1988 my mom went in for surgery to unblock her carotid artery. I got a phone call from my step father saying that my mom had gone through surgery just fine and she was in the recovery room. Within a few minutes, I got another call- something had gone wrong and my mother had suffered from a massive stroke.
I was so mad, scared, upset- I don't know what all. I couldn't do anything for her. I couldn't make her better. I had small children, so I couldn't stay at her bedside 24/ 7 and care for her. I'm not sure I would have known how to care for her.
My mom lived for another 16 years. She was somewhat rehabilitated, and was able to be independent and drive for a while. But she never totally recovered. She lost the use of her right side of her body. She had to use a cane. She was disabled. She was 62 . My mom went from being a fiercely independent, feisty, young 62 year old, to being an invalid overnight.
She was cheated. We were cheated. Her grandchildren were cheated.
My mom was never one to keep her feelings and thoughts to herself. She had little tact and fewer filters. We all knew we were loved by her. But we feared her and what she might say. She was a little, crippled lady with a cane. There was no way she could "hurt" anyone- unless you got close enough to get hit by her cane (that never happened by the way). But she was scary and we tip toed around her.
My poor mom. She had been badly abused by my dad, All three of her children (yes I was one) gave her a lot of grief and worry. Worse than any of my kids ever did with me. When you feel powerless and the only power you have is through your words, you can hurt others deeply through your own pain. I know I did that to my own kids. My mom did that to us.
But we loved her too. Deeply. I was often afraid to "talk back" as an adult and tell her what I feeling. I was afraid of being attacked. But at the same time, I knew how wonderful and generous my mom could be. She gave unsolicited gifts to friends and family when she knew they were in need. She really did care.
After my brother died, a big piece of my mother died too. All of us really. A chunk was pulled out of our hearts. Forever. Dale. My big brother was 9 years younger than I am now.
After my mom was moved into assisted living, I started to really understand what I have often told others; those who are hardest to love are the ones who need it the most. That was my mom.
We (meaning my sister) got my mom on some medication that helped take the edge off of her anxiety. She was so much nicer to be with. And fun. And she was happier in herself too. It's so sad that it didn't happen before she became totally dependent on others for her daily care.
What brought all of this on? Life. Brain tumors. Worry. Anxiety. Love. Missing my mom.
I am tired of being tired. I feel really lucky to have so many people in my life who really care and worry about me. And I feel badly that I have put them through this. Especially my family. I know, it was not my idea to get a brain tumor. I am afraid of how it will effect everyone if things don't go as planned.
In 1988 my mom went in for surgery to unblock her carotid artery. I got a phone call from my step father saying that my mom had gone through surgery just fine and she was in the recovery room. Within a few minutes, I got another call- something had gone wrong and my mother had suffered from a massive stroke.
I was so mad, scared, upset- I don't know what all. I couldn't do anything for her. I couldn't make her better. I had small children, so I couldn't stay at her bedside 24/ 7 and care for her. I'm not sure I would have known how to care for her.
My mom lived for another 16 years. She was somewhat rehabilitated, and was able to be independent and drive for a while. But she never totally recovered. She lost the use of her right side of her body. She had to use a cane. She was disabled. She was 62 . My mom went from being a fiercely independent, feisty, young 62 year old, to being an invalid overnight.
She was cheated. We were cheated. Her grandchildren were cheated.
 |
| Christmas 1999. Our last Christmas with Dale. |
My mom was never one to keep her feelings and thoughts to herself. She had little tact and fewer filters. We all knew we were loved by her. But we feared her and what she might say. She was a little, crippled lady with a cane. There was no way she could "hurt" anyone- unless you got close enough to get hit by her cane (that never happened by the way). But she was scary and we tip toed around her.
My poor mom. She had been badly abused by my dad, All three of her children (yes I was one) gave her a lot of grief and worry. Worse than any of my kids ever did with me. When you feel powerless and the only power you have is through your words, you can hurt others deeply through your own pain. I know I did that to my own kids. My mom did that to us.
But we loved her too. Deeply. I was often afraid to "talk back" as an adult and tell her what I feeling. I was afraid of being attacked. But at the same time, I knew how wonderful and generous my mom could be. She gave unsolicited gifts to friends and family when she knew they were in need. She really did care.
After my brother died, a big piece of my mother died too. All of us really. A chunk was pulled out of our hearts. Forever. Dale. My big brother was 9 years younger than I am now.
After my mom was moved into assisted living, I started to really understand what I have often told others; those who are hardest to love are the ones who need it the most. That was my mom.
We (meaning my sister) got my mom on some medication that helped take the edge off of her anxiety. She was so much nicer to be with. And fun. And she was happier in herself too. It's so sad that it didn't happen before she became totally dependent on others for her daily care.
 |
| My mom with her first great grandchild 2002 |
What brought all of this on? Life. Brain tumors. Worry. Anxiety. Love. Missing my mom.
Wednesday, June 11, 2014
Family
These are my grandparents, on my father's side. Nicolai and Karen Thompsen
1910. On their wedding day.
Both of my grandparents emigrated to America from Norway. They met in the US. My grandmother did not speak English until her children started school. I never met my grandfather, and I don't know if he spoke any English at all.
Whenever I asked my father anything about his father, he would get mad and refuse to talk about his father.
My grandparents were married in 1910. They had five sons, my dad being the middle child. In 1939, my grandfather decided that it was time to go back home, to Norway. My grandmother refused to go. As she told me, she said "I have five American sons, I am not leaving". This was in the middle of war time, not a good time to go to Europe at all. They never saw each other again.
My grandfather was born Nicolay Tobiasen in Farsund, Noway in 1888. He died in Farsund, on the family farm, Kjørrefjord. His name had been changed to Thompsen in America, (my maiden name), but on the grave stone it says Kjørrefjord.
The reason I am interested in my grandparents, particularly my grandfather is that he had a "brain infection". I am not sure exactly what that meant, or how it was diagnosed. I do know that he had brain surgery at Rikshospitalet in Oslo. I know that he got an infection from that surgery and he died in 1945 at the age os 57.
I wish I knew him. I wish I understood what happened to cause the rift in the family that kept my father from talking about him. But, right now, with my impending brain surgery, I wish I knew what his diagnosis was and how it was arrived at. I don't imagine I will ever know.
Weren't that a nice looking couple! So many stories I will never know.
Sunday, June 8, 2014
"Home"
 |
| Christmas 1985 |
We lived in Tromsø, Norway from 1984-1986. It was by far one of the most beautiful places on earth. And I spent most of our two years there looking forward to being nostalgic about it.
Courtney was 6 and Morgan was 3 when we got there. Our third child, Darcy, was born about 3 weeks after we arrived in Tromsø. His birth was not the wonderful experience I had envisioned, but was very traumatic. I had pretty bad postpartum depression, in addition to the stress one always feels when moving to a new home in a new country. I did learn the language before going there, which was a big help. Most Norwegians speak English, but in this small town 217 miles above the Arctic Circle, Norwegian was needed and used every day.
The days are 24 hours long in the summer-the Land of the Midnight Sun- but by August, when Darcy was born, the days were getting shorter. By mid November, the sun left and did not come back until mid January. The mørk tid, "dark time" was really hard that fist winter. In fact, the picture above, that we used for our 1985 Christmas card was taken in October. We had to take it when there was still daylight!
We took a trip back to the States in the summer of 1985. Today, quite by accident, I found a note I had written to my mother and step father after that trip.
******************************************************
"August 8, 1985
Dear Mother and Chet,
Well, we all survived the trip "home". The kids are all great travelers. There were just us 5 and one man in the whole upper deck of the plane- so the stewardess gave us a lot of attention. She took Darcy for a walk while we ate. Courtney and Morgan got to see the cockpit! Courtney was very impressed! Morgan and Darcy slept a lot, Nick & I a little and Courtney not at all.
I was depressed all the way home, but once I walked into the house I felt like "big deal what was I worried about ?" I don't love being in Tromsø, but home is home!
The kids are so happy and relaxed! We all have jet lag, but that won't last. Morgan starts in barnepark the 19th.
Nick leaves tomorrow for 10 days to work at a trade fair. Then back for a couple of days then he leaves again for 2 weeks. Oh well!
Hope to hear from you soon!
Love, Nancy, Nick, Courtney, Morgan & Darcy"
************************************************
So, home is home.
*************************************************
Progress
I finished my "brain" hat the other day. So I decided to take some "selfies" of myself wearing it. The first picture was taken with flash and quickly discarded.
Not sure how many of them I will post here. I love looking at the background at my sewing room!
Not sure how many of them I will post here. I love looking at the background at my sewing room!
 |
| Back view |
Saturday, June 7, 2014
"100 Years"
These are the lyrics to a song that was on the radio a lot around the time my mom died, in 2004. I like the way this sort of summarizes a person's life and how fast it all goes without us noticing:
I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
I'm 22 for a moment
And she feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars
15, there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got a hundred years to live
I'm 33 for a moment
I'm still the man but you see I'm of age
A kid on the way, babe
A family on my mind
I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life
15, there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose yourself
Within a morning star
15, I'm all right with you
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got a hundred years to live
Half the time goes by
Suddenly you're wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on
I'm 99 for a moment
I'm dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are
15, there's still time for you
22, I feel her too
33, you're on your way
Every day's a new day
15, there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey, 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got a hundred years to live
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)