Game Face

I've got my Game Face on today.

The one everyone expects to see.

Smiling. Happy. Thrilled to be alive.

But my low back has been hurting for three days, and it's been sneaking into my hips.

So inside, I'm scared. Actually, I'm fucking terrified. That my breast cancer is back.

Because I've been told by my health care team that if Triple Negative Breast Cancer were to come back, it would show up in my hips. My medical oncologist said that if I have pain in my hips and take Tylenol and/or Advil and it goes away, it's nothing to worry about. But, if I take Tylenol and/or Advil, and it doesn't go away then I need to see him.

The pain started on Thursday about 5:30 pm, after sitting for at least an hour playing UNO with my older son. He's the child who is disabled. But he was handing me my ass in UNO. Like usual. How many fucking Wilds and +4 Wilds did I deal him? Jesus.

Get up and move. Start dinner. Randy was at Hapkido with Mini Musashi, and I didn't expect them home until at least 6:30. You've been sitting too long. It was the first beautiful and warm day for us here on the Olympic Peninsula...maybe being outside picking up dog shit and taking pics of the boys was a little too much action. Maybe I pulled my back a bit because I didn't engage my core. Jesus, Rachel.

Thank you Clue

Wait! Didn't the Clue App just send me a notice that my period is gonna start? Fuckinchrist. Wasn't chemo supposed to make that fucking piece of me stop? Because I really am done having my period. Because it's not regular and goddamnit...perimenopause and chemo induced menopause is bullshit.

Total. Fucking. Bullshit.

And, no, I can't use hormonal birth control because BREAST CANCER.

On the other hand, it's kinda nice to still get my period. I get to be a girl. But I'm the only girl in my house. Our dog doesn't truly count. She had her reproductive organs removed, god love her, and so, I'm the only human female in my house and most of the time it's a big piece of bullshit.

Leave me alone. I am waiting for my period to show up. Because apparently I'm THAT FUCKING FERTILE at the age of 45-1/2.

So go be boys. Go outside and yell at the trees. Scare all the wildlife away. I don't care that it's raining. You're not made out of sugar. You will not melt.

And I threw a swimming birthday party today. Because the little one turns 9 on Monday.

Nine.

And there's so much on his plate. He doesn't remember my cancer. My surgery. My chemo. My radiation. He was about six weeks shy of turning six years old when I was diagnosed in March 2015. Kindergarten.

He remembers his dad's cancer. The surgery, radiation and chemo. He remembers the tube coming out of Daddy's arm. And the other one that went into his stomach so he could "eat"...sustain life. Fucking A the things we do....what we put our body's through...to live.... Thank you science.

Mr. Nearly Nine knows all too well about his brother's seizures, and our medication choices.

About his autism.

His disabilities. 

He sees his brother's daily struggles.

He tries to parent his brother. A lot.

Don't worry, child, someday it will, in all likelihood, fall to you. You'll get your chance, youngling. But for now, you need to work on quieting your voice and your mind, step back, and let me and Dad do our jobs. Thank you, very much.

Maybe getting in the water will help my low back feel better....?

Advil? Check.

Tylenol? Check.

Marijuana? Check.

But not at the party when you're the hostess. Because that shit ain't cool.

Topical marijuana balm on low back and hips? Check.

Yoga isn't helping. I could barely move on my mat last night, and I didn't practice this morning. I did give myself permission to sleep in though; 7:25 am is late for me. The alarm usually goes off at 5.

Walking isn't helping. I ache like I never have. And I am terrified. I have no appetite, and have been forcing myself to eat nutrient dense food every few hours.

Maybe I've got too much on my plate. Maybe I've said yes to too many things? Helping is what I do; it's my Super Power.

So this past week, when I was contacted by three different moms who had questions about giving their kids medical marijuana, and I've got 4-1/2 years of experience, I step up to the best of my ability in that moment and help in the best way I can. Texting is good. Facebook messaging is good. Email is great. Talking on the phone is hard for me...I usually only reserve that for medical appointments I'm making for myself or my children.

He's looking at his brother...

Or for talking to my parents, because they will never get on the Tech Train; too trendy. So I meet them where they are...on the talking part of my phone. And that's hard. Especially when my dad, who called twice on Wednesday, to see if we received the card for Mr. Nearly Nine's birthday...and Wednesday is my family's busiest day of the week...stressful...but god love him, he goes off on one of his famous tangents, and all I could really do was breathe through it...Jesus, Dad. In my family, going off on a tangent, which leads to another tangent and you start subject hopping and don't really take a breath or provide the other person in the conversation to speak, that's actually a verb: Tangeting. Verb. That's what's happening.

So I put on my Game Face. And I threw a fantastic party. Again. Alternatively, I really have a lot of practice at throwing parties.

...who is not capable of controlling himself when it comes to blowing out candles.

And yes swimming felt great. And yes, the diving helped alleviate the pain. And yes it was fun having the kids watch me underwater when I dove down and touched the bottom. And yes, I know my hips are going to hurt like a motherfucker tomorrow.

Because it's not like I'm seventeen and doing this shit. I'm 45-and-a-goddamn-half and I'm a breast cancer survivor and a mom of a kid with myriad disabilities and a cancer care giver and goddam do I have cancer of the quadratus lumborum? Or a kidney infection that I don't have any other symptoms for? Or kidney cancer? Because I could also have cancer of the foot because I stubbed my toe the other day...?

Can't my period just fucking start? Seriously. I'd totally take my period over any type of cancer any day, please Jesus.

And thank you, Mother Nature, for considering my request.

Namaste'