I was working on a lovely, meaningful blog post. This is what came out today instead. So as for the other…wait for it. (See what I did there?)

With apologies to the Mouse/Cookie canon, and possibly also Lin-Manuel Miranda:

 

 

I stopped by the gastroenterologist yesterday for my follow-up appointment. About a month ago, he found about six polyps, one of which was pre-cancerous/cancerous/it wasn’t quite clear to me. It was the best kind of dangerous polyp to find; it was easily enough removed and had not yet spread in any way. He tells me I was just a millimeter or two away from having a “real” problem, and that I am a very lucky lady.

I am.

A few of my friends were quite kind about this while I was getting the news, telling me there was absolutely NO way *I* could be diagnosed with cancer right after the year Celia just had. I’m convinced that unfortunately, the world doesn’t work that way. It’s pretty random, and some people get a whole lot more than they can realistically handle. In effect, what I did was dodge a bullet. Had I been a bit more cavalier about scheduling my 10-year-checkup, I might not have been so fortunate. This is why we do screening exams. (And yes, for those of you playing along at home, why thank you. I AM awfully young to have screening colonoscopies. My digestive system is not, shall we say, a team player.) Because my colonoscopy at 37 was completely normal, I seriously considered waiting until 50 to go back. And that might have been too late. I’ve won myself a trip back to the rubber hose in 4 years rather than 10.

Needless to say (?) I decided that it was time to go ahead with that mammogram too. No point in tempting fate.

Also yesterday we had the perfectly normal experience of taking Celia to her regular pediatrician for a regular old sick visit. She’s had a cold for a couple of weeks and it finally seemed like it had hung around long enough for her to be checked out. She’s fine; she’s not that sick. If it had been 2 years ago I would have hesitated to take her. This is the funny part of remission. Part of you thinks, “Oh wow, do I call the oncology clinic and get their input?” while another part of you realizes they would be on the phone with you doing one of two things. Either they would say, “We’d better bring her in and do a series of tests” or they would say, “Woman, are you kidding me? She has a COLD.” Hard to adjust from the thinking that if she were to spike even a low fever, she would have to go to the ER.

Colds aside, she’s doing well on re-entry to teenage life.

In August I wrote a story for one of our town magazines about Celia’s cancer; she is the cover story in honor of Childhood Cancer Awareness Month. (I have about 10 extra copies thanks to my neighbors, so let me know if you would like one!) The point of the story that I hope I got across is that our neighbors and our town rallied around us in an amazing way. Our families and friends across the country did too, but unfortunately there is not yet a magazine dedicated to Balderston Family and Friends. In the waiting room yesterday I came across and article that was unfortunately named something like “Things to Make Mid-Life Years Better” and the one part that struck me was about setbacks. In the middle of this long paragraph about how we handle setbacks/crisis/bad events was the advice: OPM. Other people matter. “People who let other people help them tend to recover better than those who are fiercely independent.”

Nailed it. (We nailed it, I mean. We let you. We really let you.)

We got so much help, and I hope that you all still know how much that continues to means to us. We’re continuing to put together our team for Comer’s Race for the Kids on October 16th and hope you will join us: (http://race.uchicagokidshospital.org/faf/search/searchTeamPart.asp?ievent=1157270&team=6737979)

I told you I’d nag.

Ultimately that OPM experience is helping me cheerfully hit up all of these health screenings I ignored for the last year and a half. They’re not fun, and they have their scary moments. But I’m secure in knowing that I am not alone in this, as much as midlife kind of feels that way sometimes.

More soon. Go get your screenings!

 

 

Those of you who have followed me on Facebook for longer than a year may remember my popular Seminars. It turns out, despite my mad parenting skillz, my children have absolutely no practical abilities in basic concepts such as Changing The Toilet Paper Roll, Filling a Hamper, and Removing Empty Milk Cartons From The Refrigerator. Without any further ado, here are a sampling of the Seminars I will be offering after the latest weekend in paradise with my brood:

Dirty Clothes Vs. Clean Clothes: A Primer

In Fact, There Are Lots Of Reasons Not To Eat In Your Room. Slob.

Plunger 201: You Have Mastered The Basics, But Still Have A Lot To Learn

“That Wasn’t Me!” and Other Really Lame Ways To Divert Attention To Your Sibling

It’s Rush Hour. You May Not Drive. I Know You Need The Hours.

Homework: More Of A Good Idea Than You Even Know. I’m Looking At You, Mr/Ms 80%.

Are You Five Years Old? Just Because There Is A Check Endorsement Stamp Sitting On The Table, You Do Not Have To Press It. The Table Will, In Fact, Be Endorsed If You Do. It Would Also Help If You Would Throw Away The Napkin You Practiced On, And Wiped The Ink Off The Table. So Your Mother Doesn’t Lose Her Mind.

The Closet/Hamper/Trashcan Is Only 5 Feet Away.

Household Items Are Muggles: Lights And Fans Do Not Turn Themselves Off Magically

(Alt.) Shoved Under The Bed: Not A High Percentage Storage Move

 

Yes, friends, I am so happy that these are the problems I am worrying about this year. Perspective is a lovely thing. Happy Monday!

 

Steve and I went to a wedding on Sunday. I heard ahead of time that there would be a few tables from my gym, including a kids’ table and an adults’ table. I assumed I’d be at the kids’ table. Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?

The simple answer is, I wouldn’t be, because I am OLD. In fact, at our “dignified” adults’ table, Steve and I were the oldest by several years. And as I pondered the whole wedding phenomenon I realized that at 47, I am in fact solidly in that generation that is giving the wedding, rather than having the wedding. Never mind that I’ve been on the participation “team” for years, as a singer. Never mind that my own children, as teenagers, had better be many years from their own weddings…I’m solidly, undeniably, in the older generation now. You know, the ones that did the Electric Slide and Macarena unironically, slightly after the Earth cooled. Like, when they came out the first time…

This is also apparent when we are at home now. Both kids would rather be out with their friends than with us, and because they’re teens, that is free-form hanging out, rather than play dates and plans. We don’t always know exactly where they are and exactly when they’re coming home. In fact, approximately 98% of the time I want to be in bed before they even get home. It’s a far cry from last year, when James was still in middle school and Celia was so sick.

We are also running full tilt into college visits, planning, and making up for lost time. This has mostly meant that Celia is trying to do as much as she possibly can, while also visiting every college she can, and getting the best grades she can. It’s a beautiful thing to watch, but also frustrating. We want her to slow down; we want her to take off. (She REALLY wants us to take off…) It is such a blessing to see her be able to do all that she wasn’t able to do last year. In fact, one of my friends who is herself a breast cancer survivor, mentioned one day, “Isn’t it weird how there’s a part of life that just starts up again like nothing ever happened?” The best thing would be if she goes forward without having cancer define her. But in a very real way it defines all of us, every day. I mean, I get her impatience completely. She saw firsthand how fleeting life can be. She has made friends who have had numerous relapses. She’s acquired the occasional gallows humor, too: “Geez, mom, of course the doctors and nurses think I look great. The last time they saw me I looked like I was dying.” So maybe it’s not such a bad thing to spend your wasted youth knowing that there’s no time to waste your youth.

And I am attempting to continue to write without a driving purpose. It’s telling (to me anyway) that I first set up this blog 3 years ago in response to people saying, “Your Facebook posts are funny! You ought to write a blog.” And then, without having a direct purpose, I had trouble writing. Caring Bridge was great because it was a good convergence of my needing to process and your needing to know stuff. I needed a way to get over that little voice in my brain that said, “Oh come on…who CARES about your life?” Well, cancer certainly did that for me.

I’ll post up on CB that this is going, and then? I’ll do my best to just write, and I’ll assume that I am a writer when I don’t feel the need to be asked to write. Or maybe that will mean I’m actually grown UP.