Staying hydrated

 One of my students from last year barreled into me for a hug, hitting her head against my port.  It hurt.  So much.  For about an hour.

I didn't cry. (Even though I wanted to.)

I went to my "chemo class" appointment.  They handed me a whole sheaf of papers and it was over an hour hearing all about everything.

At one point I said, "This sounds like a lot of fun..."

The nurse said, "We want to tell you about everything, but hopefully you won't need all this information.  It is just in case."

Here's hoping.  She showed me the treatment room with the chairs and IV and all.  It was super overwhelming.

I didn't cry. (Even though I wanted to.)

I talked to Marianne and then went on a walk with Kim.  She is very kind about my pace and my shortening of our route.  She is also just very kind in general.  She is the primary president and I told her how I was feeling about being primary chorister.  I said, "I want to do my best.  I want to be a person who you can count on."  I learned at chemo class that the worst of the nausea will be on Sunday since I'm having chemo on Thursday and Friday.

She said, "Heavenly Father knows you have cancer.  This is His plan.    He is in charge and we will make it work."

That time I did cry a little as the truth of her words sunk in.

I am blessed to have such good people in my life.

Cheer up, or else

I was scanning the headlines while I dried my hair this morning.  I don't really have it in me to read the news.  It is too depressing. 

This headline stopped me though.

First, I'm grateful that I can be cranky online or anywhere and there are no internet censors to silence me.

But also, I don't want to be a hater or a cynic.

Even if it's just being a hater or cynic about my life.

Sometimes I feel like Bill Murray's character in Groundhog Day, during the part when he's miserable. The part when he says this for his weather forecast:

You want a prediction about the weather, you're asking the wrong Phil. I'll give you a winter prediction: It's gonna be cold, it's gonna be grey, and it's gonna last you for the rest of your life.

My days are hard.  I feel sick all the time.  I come home exhausted and I don't really do anything in the evenings enjoyable or otherwise, except gear up for the next day by resting.

Then I do it again.

Ever since I had my surgery and port placement, I've added pain to the mix.  Oh, and Adam's been gone.  A lot.

He left again last night.

So where am I going with all of this?  Am I going to cheer up, or else?

I am going to try.

Because the or else isn't that Chinese internet censors are going to come after me.  The or else is I'll be even more miserable.

I have cancer and I don't feel well, but that doesn't mean I have to be miserable or make everyone else miserable.

I bought some books from Amazon yesterday.  I have a TBR stack, but they were not inspiring me.  It was Prime Big Deal Days, so I bought myself some books that I am excited to read.  I'm not helpless.  I can cheer myself up.  Even for one day at a time.

Today I'm looking forward to coming home from work and reading.  That is enough for today.
 

Consistency is exhausting

 On the first day of school, my class voted on the reward they wanted to receive when they spelled the word responsible.  We are going to spell all the RIDER values (responsible, inclusive, determined, engaged and respectful).  Rider is the name of our mascot.

They voted on popsicles.  It seemed like a great reward mid-August.

It has been so hard fought!  They earn letters for making speedy and civilized transitions and I have given subs leeway to either add or subtract letters.  I have erased a few letters at times when they are being crazy.

On Friday, they finally earned their reward.  Some of them had been worried, "It will be too cold by the time we earn these popsicles!"

But they finally did it!

At the store on Saturday, I nearly forgot to buy popsicles.  It would have been tragic if I'd forgotten!

Then all weekend, every time I'd get ice out of the freezer (so, often), I would tell whoever was nearby, "I can't forget to take these popsicles to school!"

Sunday evening, Adam put the red and blue Marks and Spencer bag he brought home treats from London in on the seat of Joan.  He said, "This will remind you not to forget the popsicles."

I went out to my car yesterday morning and sure enough, I had forgotten the popsicles, but Adam's brilliant way to remind me had worked.

I got the popsicles and put them in the freezer in the teachers' lounge.

They were SO excited.  After lunch, I had the popsicles ready.  We distributed them and my thinking was that I would return the extras to the freezer and be back really fast and then read aloud to them.  Everyone would be busy with their popsicles and it would be a quiet and calm read aloud.

My thinking was wrong.

When I rounded the corner to my classroom (I had purposefully left the door open so I could hear the hooligans), I could hear an uproar.

I walked inside and they told me that one of the boys (of course he did) said something inappropriate to another student.  

I unceremoniously took his popsicle and threw it in the trash.

He cried and sulked and ripped papers and slid his desk across the room and went to the reading corner and sat not the floor and got a book and pretended to read it.  (He can't read is how I know he was pretending--also reading, even pretending to, doesn't really make me as mad as he thought it would.)

I read aloud anyway.

Throwing a fit must work at home.

Later, I told him that he didn't get his popsicle because of what he said.  I asked, "Do you understand?"

He whimpered.

Later we had Read with a Cop.  You would think if there was any time third graders would be at full attention it would be when we read with a cop.  I mean, they're armed.  But the third graders are pretty naughty.

I had this same student come over and sit by me because he was being disruptive.  He complained, "I can't see the pictures."

Alissa and I shrugged at him.  Did we care?  We did not.

We were in the cafeteria and he started banging his head against the table.  

Alissa said, "It must work for him at home."

Yep.

Eventually he got tired of, you know, hitting his head against the table.

The cop finished one story and was about to start a second.  I asked my student if he wanted to go try again and he humbly said yes.  He was good throughout the second story.

A girl, who was being a chatty Cathy, was seated on the other side of me.  She was completely happy about it.  She complimented me on my fingernails and wanted to chat about what she was doing after school.

I kept shushing her.  (Note to self:  sitting by me isn't always the consequence I was hoping for.)

I gave myself an O in our ongoing tic tac toe game when we got back to class.  Because they weren't their best selves....

I gave them an i, the first letter in inclusive at the end of the day because they had cleaned up the classroom pretty well.

It is exhausting.  April and May Thelma will thank me, but it is exhausting.

Weekend

 Adam came home Friday night.  It was a brilliant start to a good weekend.  He's leaving again this week and I am sad about it, but at least I don't have any procedures scheduled/parent teacher conferences.

Last week was rough.

Emma came over Saturday morning and we spent the day mostly in the basement.  I made Christmas ornaments for my students and Emma worked on a puzzle and the four of us enjoyed watching conference.

Between the first two sessions, we went to Trader Joe's.  Emma didn't go with us, but I think every other person in Utah County was there.  It was crazy.  It was hard to shop because every check stand lane extended practically to the back of the store. 

I guess that is what happens when everyone is doing their errands between conference sessions.

Between the second and third session, Mark stayed home and Emma went with us to Winco.  It was much less chaotic.  I was walking along and realized, I just feel happy. That is the power of being nourished by the good word of God.

I was reminded that I am loved, that Jesus Christ brings peace and healing, and that serving and kindness and love bring blessings.

Between the two shopping excursions, we created a feast out of cheeses and crackers and jalapeño artichoke dip.  Adam cooked some appetizers in the air fryer and I prepped raspberries and apple slices and oranges.  Emma picked out a Wensleydale lemon honey cheese and it maybe changed my life.

A slice of that cheese atop a perfect Honeycrisp apple slice would probably create world peace if everyone could have one.

Sunday was more wonderful hours spent being lifted and encouraged.  I think we hear the messages we need to hear and I felt like over and over the message for me was to find joy in Jesus Christ despite anything else happening in my life.  I was inspired by stories of other people who had done that very thing.

On Sunday afternoon, when Elder Stevenson said, "At the conclusion of this conference...."

I said, "Oh, that always makes me so sad!"

But I know that I don't need conference weekend to keep internalizing the messages I heard.  I love the cozy autumnal time spent together with my family, but I can keep learning and growing from here.

And I could always buy more of that cheese to accompany my study....

Grateful Friday

 Yesterday was for sure one of the hardest days I've had this school year.  (My friends, that is saying something.)

I was in pain.  I am bruised and sore and walk approximately like C-3PO on Star Wars.

My iPad has been updated and I couldn't figure out how to log into it.  I got locked out of trying.  That was frustrating.  

My students' behavior was pretty abysmal.

I had more parent teacher conferences and the AC wasn't working and my room was 81 degrees. (It wasn't even that hot outside.)

Most of the parents have been super kind about my cancer.  Last night one of the mothers told me, "My brother-in-law is a chemo scientist and it is really painful and awful and I'm sorry."

Well...thanks.

I had a one hour and fifteen minute parent teacher conference with one student's parents.  It was scheduled for 15 minutes.  Matt was there because this particular student is on the behavior struggle bus.  I had parents in the hall whose conferences were late.  They were mad.

It was intense.

So maybe you're wondering why I'm calling this post Grateful Friday. (Besides the reason that I usually do a Grateful Friday post.)

It is because I do after all have things to be grateful for.

For one thing:  it is General Conference weekend.  I am looking forward to having my soul lifted by hearing words about Jesus Christ and His gospel.  It is the balm I need.

Adam is coming home!  Tonight.  I could not be more grateful.

I'm also so grateful for Mark.  It is a gift and a blessing to have him living here.  He is the very picture of kindness and solicitousness.  He checks on me and does mundane tasks like take the garbage and recycling to the street and kisses my forehead.  He always says, "Just text me if you need me and I'll come running."

I'm grateful for my school friends.  I'm grateful Matt was there for that terrible conference.  He sent me to the hall to placate parents while he kept talking to the other parents.  

I finally told the parents that it was enough.  I didn't need to hear about what happened in first grade and second grade.  I said, "If your student is mistreated now, I will take care of it."

The mom rolled her eyes and said that it had happened this week and I had done nothing.

I looked at the student in the eyes and said, "You told me this week that something happened?"

They squirmed and said, "No..."

OK then.

I said, "I will take care of it.  You just have to tell me."

(The bemoaning of mistreatment was a huge deflection of misbehavior.  Apples don't fall far from trees.)

But I'm old enough to not be intimidated by parents, even the rolling of eyes variety.  Also, I had a newly placed port throbbing in my chest.  It's going to take more than an eye roll to get me to back down.

We had a break for dinner after that conference.  I brought Matt his water bottle he had left in my room.  He said, "The look on your face says it all."

I've never had much of a poker face.  And I'm grateful that my mouth doesn't need to say it when my face will.  I love the backing and support of a strong administrator.  We are on the same team and we are happy to be on the same team with parents and students too.

We just may call your bluff.

One cranky night (made more cranky by pain and all) does not sway my love for my job and my students.  Even that recalcitrant misbehaver.  I will keep working with them and for them.

I'm grateful we all get to keep trying.

 

Port placement

 I was stressed about the procedure, I think especially since Adam is halfway around the world.  I dreamt all night that nurses were telling me that my lymphoma was "really bad" and asking me if I knew how many lymph nodes I have that are enlarged.  They told me, "it is a lot."

I woke up and felt relieved that it was a dream, but also unsettled.

Emma and I went to the hospital and of course they'd given me the wrong time.  They have been "getting a new system" at the hospitals and they have been using it as an excuse for the past three weeks.  Eventually they need to figure it out....

I showed up at 8:00 because that's when My Chart said to come.  The person who I talked to didn't tell me a time, so I just went with My Chart.

I was actually scheduled for 10:00.  

The people at the hospital are very nice though.  They got me in early.  They did the IV and gave me the "gown" to wear and  the grippy socks.  The nurse was taking my blood pressure on my left arm and it is still really sore--nerve damage--from the surgery and I started crying.

I wasn't just crying because it hurt--although it did--I was just crying because of everything.  I am tired of all these procedures.  I don't even recover from one when I get started on the next.  It is a lot.  Especially with Adam gone.

The nurse was very kind and handed me a Kleenex and then she handed Emma one too because when I cry, Emma cries.  

In the time we were waiting for the procedure, me in the world's least comfortable bed and Emma in a chair by my side, she did Buzzfeed quizzes with me to find out which Brooklyn 99, Jane Austin, and Parks and Rec character I was and which Disney princess.

I finally had the procedure and it was fine.  It's nothing I would do for a good time, but I survived it.  I had conscious sedation--second time for that--and I am pretty out of it during that.

Once I was back with Emma and a little more lucid, we talked about Christmas gifts for my students and she showed me apartments she is considering.  After a few hours of recovery time, Emma drove me home.  I told her she didn't need to hang out any more and she said, "I just want to get you settled."  That meant me in my recliner.  It's comfortable.  I am grateful for Emma.  She kept me entertained and cried with me and walked behind me in the hall when I went to the bathroom and kept reassuring me that my hospital gown was staying closed.

She's pretty great as daughters go.

Sleeping last night was rough.  I couldn't sleep on either side, just flat on my back.  I spent some of the time in my chair and some in my bed.  I think staying home today would have been a good idea, but I have parent teacher conferences.

So here I go.  It feels daunting, but I've been daunted before.

Service

I married into a family of storytellers.  From the very first visit I made to Washington, I loved sitting around the dining room table, long after dinner was over and listening to the stories.  I like sitting on the deck, under the tall evergreens or sitting around in a circle of chairs on the lawn, listening to stories.

At first, when everyone was younger, there were a lot of growing up stories.  There were a lot of scout camp stories, because crazy things happen at scout camp and Linn was the leader so the stories involved him as well.

Part of the family lore was about a hapless scout who broke through the ice on a winter campout and his feet were freezing cold.  (You may wonder why would you camp in the winter?  Or ever?  I'm indoorsy, but I digress.)

Linn was the scout leader and I don't know how old Adam was at the time, but Adam is the oldest son and it speaks volumes about Adam's personality and his relationship with his dad that Linn had Adam put the scout's freezing cold feet in his armpits to warm them up.  This story has always just cracked me up.  (Also it worked.)

Our kids also know the story, because like I said, the Davises are storytellers.  When I returned home from my surgery, I put an ice pack in my armpit, at the doctor's suggestion.  Mark brought up the story.  He said I was having reverse hypothermia.

The next day I was remembering the story again.  I was thinking about Linn, as I often do.  I was thinking that for him at scout camp, his role was to keep the scouts safe.  He was the leader.  I think he considered Adam, his oldest son with all of the winning characteristics of a firstborn, an extension of himself.  It was probably very natural for him to enlist Adam's help.  Linn knew he could count on Adam.

I like to think that Linn is continuing to count on Adam.  I think he is looking down on Adam and feeling good about the ways that he is serving the Lord and also wearing himself out taking care of his family.  Linn loved Braeden and Emma and Mark.  He would have loved Anna (I mean, the red hair!) and I can only imagine the happy relationship he would have with QE.  (Maybe they were buddies in heaven before QE came to earth.)

A few weeks ago, at the hospital, Adam brought a book to read aloud to me while I was waiting for surgery (because that is the person I married).  He opened the book and tucked the bookmark into the back cover and smoothed the book open and his mannerism in handling a book in that moment reminded me so much of Linn.  Of course I know Adam more than I ever knew Linn, but I love seeing glimpses of him in Adam.  I love that because of temple covenants, I am part of their family.  We will all be together again, hopefully sharing stories. (Because they are all good storytellers.)

***

I have been the recipient of more service in the past few months than the past few years combined.  I appreciate it!  Sometimes it is the difference between me feeling like things are going to be OK and...not.  

Other times, I kind of hate it.

It is humbling to accept.  I want to be independent and self sufficient.  I want to feel like my normal self.

It occurs to me that in order for people, anyone, everyone to serve, someone has to be the recipient.  Maybe being as gracious as you can and accepting service that is offered, that is its own kind of service.

There are a lot of ways that Heavenly Father asks us to serve.  Like Linn saw Adam, maybe Heavenly Father sees us as an extension of Him.  Maybe He is counting on us to serve each other and He knows who He can ask and who He can trust.  Sometimes service may feel as unpleasant as freezing cold feet in our armpits, but I want to hold that image in my head.

Adam put the freezing cold feet in his armpits anyway.  Because his dad asked him to.

I want to be a person who can be counted on like that.