How do you wrap your head around the concept of cancer when you are five years old? I mean, really?
I woke up this morning and thought of Zoe. My lovely little Zoe. Oh she of the long brown hair and big brown eyes; the toothless-wondered being that she is right now.
She's five.
"Mommy, when are you going to get out of the hospital?"
Christmas was lovely to me. Just seeing her face. Watching her play with her cousins. Watching the ever present energy that has always been my daughter. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough for me. It held for me. Sweet and pure, and I really and truly felt the simplicity of meaning of Christmas Day that day.
She gave me a beaded wrap that she picked out on a shopping trip with my friend, D1. It's colorful and lovely and actually something I would have wanted to buy for myself. I have never seen such pride as I did when Zoe gave me that present. She was so excited, and I felt like the Queen.
But the Queen isn't bald and tired and she doesn't need naps (ok, so maybe she is, but you get the picture).
I feel so hands off with Zoe. Even though we hugged and snugged up on the couch and watched the Nutcracker, it felt so fleeting, so temporary. Because at the end of the day, I had to pack her in the car with all her new toys and send her "home."
"Mommy, when are you going to get out of the hospital?"
Given were phrases to placate. "Mommy is getting better. Mommy has to still take medicine to get better. It's a long time, but Mommy is getting better."
Five year olds can barely stand to wait for their chicken nuggets. How on earth is she supposed to understand indefinite wait when I don't even understand it?
"Basically they are going to kill Mommy over and over about six to eight times with this chemo-to-the-therapy, then they are going to completely radiate her in a microwave and start all over again with some new cells that may or may not want to stay in Mommy's bone-to-the marrow for good. In the mean time, Mommy will still be bald, but you just eat your spinach and learn how to read."
I remind myself that it's temporary. That when I look back, this will be just a blip in my life. A blip. People actually tell me all of this will be a fucking blip in my life.
But Zoe isn't a blip. She is my magic. And I know kids are resilient (because everyone and their momma keeps telling me that), and I know that later down the line she won't remember most of this, and that it's harder on me than it is on her... B to the L to the A to the H...
and I know this
and I know this
and I G*damn know this,
but it still doesn't make it any easier when I have to say goodbye to her. When four and five and six hugs aren't enough. I know she wants more. She wants me and needs me. And, my God, I need her more.
This child gathered up all the toys she got from Santa et all and put them all in a box so she could bring them for me to see. Zoe and her orphaned toys. Her little precious cargo: Barbies and Dora Princesses, plastic jewels, and coloring books.
Resilient? A blip? She will forget it?
Well I won't. I refuse. I can't.
She is the reason I can do this.
Today your assignment is to just hug your kids. Smoosh them even if they are "too big for hugs." When they piss you off, and are on your last nerve and you are hating the toy manufacturers, and you'd wish school would start soon so you could get some peace and quiet... just hug them. Before it's too late. Before you blow up at them or ignore them or just get plain tired of them. Appreciate and love those kids like.. guess what? like there is no tomorrow.
And if you don't have kids, be understanding of those who do today. It's hard to have kids and they do get on your nerves, but sometimes people just forget how wonderful they truly can be. Be understanding and not judgmental today and just pray that those people never have to find out just how much they are missing.
It's so much better writing with you.
Posted by debutaunt at December 29, 2005 05:15 AMtoday?
you have helped ME.
this morning, early tho it is, started out really crappy, with the soon-to-be-ex pulling some shit, and i was very short-tempered and terse with my little one, so thanks for this post. xo
Posted by: Islay Girl at December 29, 2005 09:34 AMHi there, KAL!
(I am going to call you KAL for Kick Ass Lady)
Listen, the fact that you WANT to see your baby girl is GOOD STUFF. You keep that fighting spirit. THAT is what is important right now.
You don't want to hear this part cause you already know it, I know but I HAVE to tell you. My mom had cancer when I was 6. I was shuffled around to sisters, cousins, aunts, neighbors. By the end, I didn't know WHO I was with or WHERE I would be living but here is the truth... I don't remember much of it. I DO remember my mom smiling when she got to see me on Mother's Day at the hosiptal. (They didn't let little kids in her hospital except on Christmas and Mother's Day in the 60's.) I remember buying her a rosary (even though we are not Catholic) in the hospital gift shop. I remember buying her a vase with plastic flowers that needed to be glued in and my mom got squirted in the eye with the glue! I remember watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer in the hospital waiting room while my dad visited my mom. I remember mom eating baby food and drinking 7 up with a straw.
And the next thing I remember were long cab and bus rides into Phila. for check ups. I remember orange soda and throwing up in the cab. :) I remember my mom making fun of me because I got my words backwards and said flutterby and bookpocket.
The point is: I don't remember the needles, the baldness, the sickness. I just remember each time she was glad to see me and I was happy to see her. She never lost her will to see me, no matter how sick she was. She made it through stage 4 cervical cancer in the 60's! They tried this new thing on her called chemotherapy. :-) And she made it because she said she was living for ME.
You go, KAL, keep that spirit. CRAVE to see your little girl. I'll keep reading and you keep fighting!
Hugs,
AuntieM
I am going to have to stop reading your blog. You're making me bi-polar. One day I'm cracking up, one day I'm bawling (like today). I too have snapped at my little one this morning and you have made me realize that I need to be more understanding. Everyday life sometimes blends to the point of habit. I'm glad I have a friend like you to break the cycle.
Posted by: Rachel at December 29, 2005 03:42 PMoh deb....i'm just in awe of your spirit, your ability to communicate these emotions, the love you and zoe have for each other
i've never had children and never will....i've never felt the bond you feel...but through your words i can live for a few moments knowing what it must be like
we're all here fighting with you, not a day goes by that i don't drop by and read...sometimes it's too hard to post, nothing to say *S* but i'm always here
must be the hardest thing to be kick ass when you just want to be soft and snuggly with the one you love
thank you for giving me such wondrous words every day
Posted by: Fiona at December 29, 2005 05:56 PMDeb, my kids are 29 and 19, and I'd squoosh them good if they were here right now. Your daughter will remember, but what she will remember are the special moments that you have together. And when she is old enough to understand, she will remember your courage and grace, and she will be stronger and more beautiful for your example. I think about you and pray for you often.
-Lisa
Kids do get it. Read below - it's from a website called www.butyoudontlooksick.com. A woman on the site explained the 'spoon theory' (http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/2004/11/the_spoon_theory.php#more) to her kids and they understood. I had my 10 year old nephew read it yesterday and he told me last night he was tired and had run out of spoons.
Your disease is invisible Deb - except for the bald head part - But we all need spoons. Besides, Zoe sounds as awesome as you - when you beat this - and you will - she'll get to say my mom beat cancer. How cool is that!
Linda
Spoons and Kids post:
aloegirl
Posted: Tue Oct 11, 2005 10:56 am Post subject: kids and spoons
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I found this site a few weeks ago, and I used the spoon story to explain to my kids how I am sick. It's not something I could hide from them, and to be honest, they were just relieved that I'm not dying. They are 7 and 10 years old.
Well, last Tuesday, I had felt great, and had a busy day. I had appoinments and meetings and I just did too much. That evening, during my staff meeting my body shut down. Every muscle in my body siezed up and I was in the worst pain of my life. My girlfriend had to drive me home. My husband came out to the car, and carried me to the bed. As we reached the top of the stairs, I heard my son (7) crying, and my daughter said to him "It's ok Elliott, mom just ran out of spoons, and she might not have any spoons tomorrow. But she's going to be fine".
Next day, I wake up, and the children and their friends had made me dozens of spoons. Spoon drawings, play dough spoons, pipecleaner spoons, they were everywhere. It was one of the most touching moments of my life. Thanks Spoon Lady.