Saturday, April 13, 2013
$30
Can you share this please?
Who wants to donate $30 to make it an even $600? That will pay for our registration fee! Yay us!
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
YAY! Update: Only $9400 left to raise to help us adopt!! Please pass the word! http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
The story of the Three Stooges
When Mark and I decided to move to the Midwest (Mark is from Michigan to begin with), I was very hesitant to leave my Vermont. And all my friends in my Vermont. Mark found a bargaining tool that was just cute enough to bribe me into moving. And we named him Barney. But only because the name that I REALLY wanted to name him, Fred, was taken by our Uncle Dave and Aunt Linda's dog. I digress.
I'd been looking online at local Minnesota papers, and found a listing for a Pug puppy. Having never had a Pug puppy and only being able to judge by his utter cuteness, I wanted him. Mark told me that if we moved to MN, I could have my Pug puppy. And so that's how, the day after we had driven five days to move from VT to MN, we went to go get Barney. And OMG was he ever adorable.
No one had told us what an absolute nightmare Pug puppies can be. For the first four years of Barney's life, he tried everything he could to destroy our house. He would go outside, supposedly to do his business, and then run back inside, jump on the couch, and poop and pee. We ended up having to throw away numerous pieces of furniture. We had to keep a leash on Barney inside the house...just to catch him. Barney ran so fast that the only chance we had was to stomp on the leash that was trailing behind him.
Fast forward to four years of Barney and moving to WI. We started fostering Pugs (and other dogs). We swore, after the nightmare of raising Barney, that we would NEVER have more than one dog. EVER. We were fostering one or two Pugs at a time, taking them in from IL for a while and then from a rescue in OK that brought them here to WI. And I saw this face.
Come on, who could resist this face? Her AKC registered name is "No Not Now". They had been calling her Nora. And when I got my hands on her (under the disguise of ONLY fostering her), she became "Mrs."
Mrs. was 10 when we adopted her. Thrown out on the streets because she could no longer have puppies. Yes, the tongue sticks out constantly. She is both the most mellow Pug you could ever meet, and sometimes the most bitchy. She does what she wants, just like her human Mama. Most of the time, what she wants is to sleep. She's been with us for three years now, making her an older lady at the age of 13. I can't imagine our lives without her.
So, two years ago, when I was almost recovered from my chemo and cancer and surgery, and we finally had our two Pugs back (our wonderful friends Jen and Annie had taken them for us for a few months because I couldn't be around their jumping)....I was reading online about a local animal shelter in town. The Neenah Animal Shelter.
The Neenah Animal Shelter had at their facility a white boxer that they had named Picard. Picard was a gorgeous Boxer mix. Picard had arrived at the shelter with a tumor the size of a baseball on his back leg. Picard had cancer. Picard had failing kidneys. Picard was also deaf. And when we saw Picard's photo, Picard became ours. We renamed him Mister Petey Picard. Just because, that's supposed to be his name. Duh.
And thus, our household that was supposed to have only ONE dog, became a household with the Three Stooges. And although I sincerely doubt that we will ever have this many pooches under our roof again, it's fun, and rewarding, while it lasts. All three are getting up there in age, and I imagine there will be some sad goodbyes in the near future. But until then, they will be our Three Stooges!
I'd been looking online at local Minnesota papers, and found a listing for a Pug puppy. Having never had a Pug puppy and only being able to judge by his utter cuteness, I wanted him. Mark told me that if we moved to MN, I could have my Pug puppy. And so that's how, the day after we had driven five days to move from VT to MN, we went to go get Barney. And OMG was he ever adorable.
No one had told us what an absolute nightmare Pug puppies can be. For the first four years of Barney's life, he tried everything he could to destroy our house. He would go outside, supposedly to do his business, and then run back inside, jump on the couch, and poop and pee. We ended up having to throw away numerous pieces of furniture. We had to keep a leash on Barney inside the house...just to catch him. Barney ran so fast that the only chance we had was to stomp on the leash that was trailing behind him.
Fast forward to four years of Barney and moving to WI. We started fostering Pugs (and other dogs). We swore, after the nightmare of raising Barney, that we would NEVER have more than one dog. EVER. We were fostering one or two Pugs at a time, taking them in from IL for a while and then from a rescue in OK that brought them here to WI. And I saw this face.
Come on, who could resist this face? Her AKC registered name is "No Not Now". They had been calling her Nora. And when I got my hands on her (under the disguise of ONLY fostering her), she became "Mrs."
Mrs. was 10 when we adopted her. Thrown out on the streets because she could no longer have puppies. Yes, the tongue sticks out constantly. She is both the most mellow Pug you could ever meet, and sometimes the most bitchy. She does what she wants, just like her human Mama. Most of the time, what she wants is to sleep. She's been with us for three years now, making her an older lady at the age of 13. I can't imagine our lives without her.
So, two years ago, when I was almost recovered from my chemo and cancer and surgery, and we finally had our two Pugs back (our wonderful friends Jen and Annie had taken them for us for a few months because I couldn't be around their jumping)....I was reading online about a local animal shelter in town. The Neenah Animal Shelter.
The Neenah Animal Shelter had at their facility a white boxer that they had named Picard. Picard was a gorgeous Boxer mix. Picard had arrived at the shelter with a tumor the size of a baseball on his back leg. Picard had cancer. Picard had failing kidneys. Picard was also deaf. And when we saw Picard's photo, Picard became ours. We renamed him Mister Petey Picard. Just because, that's supposed to be his name. Duh.
And thus, our household that was supposed to have only ONE dog, became a household with the Three Stooges. And although I sincerely doubt that we will ever have this many pooches under our roof again, it's fun, and rewarding, while it lasts. All three are getting up there in age, and I imagine there will be some sad goodbyes in the near future. But until then, they will be our Three Stooges!
Do only the rich get to adopt babies?
So should we have surrogacy as a back-up plan? Where are all the unwed pregnant teens when I need one? If we find our own baby to adopt, it's like half the price to adopt. Does this feel like we're buying a baby to anyone else?
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Friday, April 12, 2013
Should we give up?
Apparently since we hired a lawyer and fought with "the powers" in court for our foster child to remain with us (or at the very least to transition to family slowly), we are considered Parana. We had been giving thought over the past month on whether we even wanted to deal with these people again (in a foster care capacity). We were leaning toward not. But today, the powers have asked us if we would like to not have any more placements and either contemplate providing just respite...or contemplate closing our license. Insert knife in back and twist it around a bit.
I don't know what to do now. This is making me feel that fighting for our foster child was wrong. This is making me feel that maybe we're just crappy parents. This is making me feel that maybe pursuing adoption is just a stupid idea. This is making me cry.
If we can't handle even being foster parents, why in the world should we try to adopt a forever child?
NEED comments. Please.
Publishing?
I've been approached by someone who owns a self-publishing company.
My dilemma....is what I write interesting enough, and just plain enough, to put together into an article/book/published blog? It's really just about me and my life. Feels kind of narcissistic in it's entirety.
I suppose I could add in my QOD, Question of the Day, that I've been doing for years now on Facebook. But then would I have to ask permission from each and every responder? That's a lot of permission! Some of my QODs resulted in over 100 responses. And not always the QODs that you'd THINK would warrant a cornucopia of responses. The question about wearing pajama pants in public was quite the attention-getter. It also ended some friendships. Yes, it really WAS just about pajama pants. I KNOW, right?
Is my mind back to working at normal capacity? I don't think that it is. Although I have to say, my getting back into writing my blog seems to have helped jump start the wheels. I still haven't attempted to read a book yet. Although I read, and re-read, my posts every few hours. More so to check for spelling errors and grammatical snafus. Almost perfect is not an option.
Could I write about my life NOW? The Three Stooges? My wonderful husband? We all live quite a boring life. As I type this, the Three Stooges are all three snoring. Mark is out putting the old, flooded carpeting into the van to bring to the town dump. And I am typing and sipping my fresh-brewed Red Rose iced tea. Wow, simply fascinating stuff!
My friend Lane Wilder told me today that I AM a writer. She always knows the right things to say to me.
My dilemma....is what I write interesting enough, and just plain enough, to put together into an article/book/published blog? It's really just about me and my life. Feels kind of narcissistic in it's entirety.
I suppose I could add in my QOD, Question of the Day, that I've been doing for years now on Facebook. But then would I have to ask permission from each and every responder? That's a lot of permission! Some of my QODs resulted in over 100 responses. And not always the QODs that you'd THINK would warrant a cornucopia of responses. The question about wearing pajama pants in public was quite the attention-getter. It also ended some friendships. Yes, it really WAS just about pajama pants. I KNOW, right?
Is my mind back to working at normal capacity? I don't think that it is. Although I have to say, my getting back into writing my blog seems to have helped jump start the wheels. I still haven't attempted to read a book yet. Although I read, and re-read, my posts every few hours. More so to check for spelling errors and grammatical snafus. Almost perfect is not an option.
Could I write about my life NOW? The Three Stooges? My wonderful husband? We all live quite a boring life. As I type this, the Three Stooges are all three snoring. Mark is out putting the old, flooded carpeting into the van to bring to the town dump. And I am typing and sipping my fresh-brewed Red Rose iced tea. Wow, simply fascinating stuff!
My friend Lane Wilder told me today that I AM a writer. She always knows the right things to say to me.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Enjoy what you've got and try to build on it!
Happy Day
I just spent some time talking (private messaging)
with one of our favorite and longer term foster daughters. we normally took in young babies, but when we got the call for an 11 year old little girl who needed a place to live, we said yes. She recently lost her birth Mom and I wanted to let her know how sorry I was. All the memories came flooding back.
Kayce holding my hand going into a store and saying "you and I look alike. you could be my Mom"
Kayce deciding that she was going to call Mark and I "Ma and Pa"
Kayce dancing in front of the mirror.
Kayce coming with me to the doctors, me in tears from the pain of an ear infection. Kayce rubbing my back and telling me it was okay.
Kayce discovering the joy of guacamole and chips.
Kayce going to the waterpark with us and extended family.
Kayce meeting extended family for the first time. Driving up to the hotel and having her ask us "do you think they'll like me?"
Kayce asking us one night, when we tucked her in, if we could tell her that we loved her.
Kayce and I used to ride around in the minivan and blast music and sing and dance in our seats. This was our favorite song, played over and over and over. She's become a beautiful young woman now, and I'm so glad we were a part of her life for a while.
with one of our favorite and longer term foster daughters. we normally took in young babies, but when we got the call for an 11 year old little girl who needed a place to live, we said yes. She recently lost her birth Mom and I wanted to let her know how sorry I was. All the memories came flooding back.
Kayce holding my hand going into a store and saying "you and I look alike. you could be my Mom"
Kayce deciding that she was going to call Mark and I "Ma and Pa"
Kayce dancing in front of the mirror.
Kayce coming with me to the doctors, me in tears from the pain of an ear infection. Kayce rubbing my back and telling me it was okay.
Kayce discovering the joy of guacamole and chips.
Kayce going to the waterpark with us and extended family.
Kayce meeting extended family for the first time. Driving up to the hotel and having her ask us "do you think they'll like me?"
Kayce asking us one night, when we tucked her in, if we could tell her that we loved her.
Kayce and I used to ride around in the minivan and blast music and sing and dance in our seats. This was our favorite song, played over and over and over. She's become a beautiful young woman now, and I'm so glad we were a part of her life for a while.
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
You are not forgotten
Angel saved my life. Finding out I was pregnant at the age of 42 with no fertility meds was a shock. Finding out I was losing the baby and had many tumors in my bladder was devastating. But had Angel not been conceived, I might very well be dead now. Were it not for the ultrasound to see how Angel was doing, the tumors would never have been found.
Once we bail ourselves out of the latest mess (flooded basement), we need to add baby Angel to the memory box. There's just enough room for Angel.
Hate
I dislike the word, and the concept. I can think of maybe one person in my life that I would maybe use that word as a label.
I guess I don't understand how someone could have someone they have intense hostility for in their lives?
When I was 11 years old, my little sister Kathy Jo (eight) and my older sister Lisa (13) and I were standing opposite our home, waiting for the school bus. A car came around the corner, slid on black ice, and landed on top of Lisa and Kathy Jo....and threw me across the street into our front yard. The car broke every bone in Kathy's body and she was killed.
That morning, before the accident, Kathy had finished the box of cereal that I wanted. How dare she? I guess I told her...."I hate you and wish you would just die". Yes, the words go through my head, even 34 years later. How can I forget? It might have been the last time I used that word in anger...or in any form.
Today has been a day and a half. One of those days that you just want to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your head, and block out everything. I came THIS close to using that word as a description of today. And then I remember. And then I think of everyone who has it much worse off than Mark and I. We have each other. Some people don't even have that.
Don't hate.
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hate
of hard work>
I guess I don't understand how someone could have someone they have intense hostility for in their lives?
When I was 11 years old, my little sister Kathy Jo (eight) and my older sister Lisa (13) and I were standing opposite our home, waiting for the school bus. A car came around the corner, slid on black ice, and landed on top of Lisa and Kathy Jo....and threw me across the street into our front yard. The car broke every bone in Kathy's body and she was killed.
That morning, before the accident, Kathy had finished the box of cereal that I wanted. How dare she? I guess I told her...."I hate you and wish you would just die". Yes, the words go through my head, even 34 years later. How can I forget? It might have been the last time I used that word in anger...or in any form.
Today has been a day and a half. One of those days that you just want to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your head, and block out everything. I came THIS close to using that word as a description of today. And then I remember. And then I think of everyone who has it much worse off than Mark and I. We have each other. Some people don't even have that.
Don't hate.
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hate
Definition of HATE
1
a : intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury
b : extreme dislike or antipathy : loathing hate
Black Clouds
Mindi's "Stating the Obvious" moment of the day:
If you all didn't already know....Mark and I have a huge black cloud hanging over our heads. We've (or more like "I've"....Mark's just lucky enough to be along for the ride) lost three babies, had cancer, had bladder removed, had uterus removed, been hospitalized three times since operation, lost our foster daughter.....this is just in the past 7 years.
So, things were looking up, right? We have an adoption fundraiser going on, have our application in to adopt through Lutheran Social Services, have a class tonight to go to so that we can be in the May drawing/pick as an adoptive family.
Oh wait, what's that you say? Things are going too smoothly for the Piaseckis? Yeah, let's throw some more shit their way. That'll be fun. Let's have a big old ice storm overnight, lose power around 2 AM, make sure it's raining along with the ice storm so that their basement floods (and let's do this 20 days before their new homeowner's insurance kicks in, so the damage to finished basement isn't covered).
Oh, and that adoption class tonight? Since Mark's been awake since getting home at 7 AM and he's still sweeping water down the drain, and since Mindi's still on her doctor ordered bed rest and can't lift over ten pounds and can't vacuum or push or pull or pretty much do ANYTHING or she'll end up in the hospital....so she isn't worth squat when it comes to helping Mark out here.....we're not going to make the class tonight. Of COURSE not.
But on the bright side.....I'm still alive. Yay.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Am I a Mom?
When is Mother's Day? One of the saddest days of the year for me. Am I a Mother? I've been pregnant three times. I've been foster Mom to numerous children. I've almost adopted four different children. I'm Mom to three Stooges and have been foster Mom to numerous pups. But when you have no child with you, no child to pick dandelions for you for Mother's Day, no child to give you hugs and sticky kisses....are you a Mom?
I wanted to be a writer
Most of my friends from my childhood know this. It was always my dream to become a writer.
When I was in the 6th grade, in Mr Johnson's class at Chester-Andover Elementary School in Chester, VT, they had a Halloween writing project. You could choose the title from a list of titles. I chose "the Icy Fingers of Doom". I wrote about a teenager who went for a run and kept feeling something was wrong. If I remember correctly, she got home, felt the icy fingers of doom, and found her parents dead. My story was published in a children's magazine. The year was 1979. I'm sure you must have read the story, perhaps multiple times.
When I was in high school, under the teachings of Mr. B, I started writing the story about Stanley and his life at Sunshine Sanctuary, a retirement village. I loved that story. I also had Mr. B as a college professor and continued to write about Stanley in my college English course. I remember that because Mr. B made me feel SO proud when he read MY story out loud in class! To this day, I love getting pats on the back for something I do well. But who doesn't?
I used to read a book a day, when I had the time. And then I got cancer, had chemo and was put under anesthesia for 12 hours. That was two years ago, and I have yet to complete even a magazine article since. Something happened to my brain, I have chemo brain. Yes, it actually exists. Trust me.
The local library is offering a series called "Memory Cafe" to help people with memory loss. I've been following it's progression online, but am too filled with social anxiety to actually join. I think it's a wonderful idea, different speakers giving tips on rejuvenating your memory. I might pop in one of these weeks.
My favorite thing to say to people when I have one of my "I can't think of the word" moments is "I used to be smart, really I did". Maybe I'll be smart again someday.
When I was in the 6th grade, in Mr Johnson's class at Chester-Andover Elementary School in Chester, VT, they had a Halloween writing project. You could choose the title from a list of titles. I chose "the Icy Fingers of Doom". I wrote about a teenager who went for a run and kept feeling something was wrong. If I remember correctly, she got home, felt the icy fingers of doom, and found her parents dead. My story was published in a children's magazine. The year was 1979. I'm sure you must have read the story, perhaps multiple times.
When I was in high school, under the teachings of Mr. B, I started writing the story about Stanley and his life at Sunshine Sanctuary, a retirement village. I loved that story. I also had Mr. B as a college professor and continued to write about Stanley in my college English course. I remember that because Mr. B made me feel SO proud when he read MY story out loud in class! To this day, I love getting pats on the back for something I do well. But who doesn't?
I used to read a book a day, when I had the time. And then I got cancer, had chemo and was put under anesthesia for 12 hours. That was two years ago, and I have yet to complete even a magazine article since. Something happened to my brain, I have chemo brain. Yes, it actually exists. Trust me.
The local library is offering a series called "Memory Cafe" to help people with memory loss. I've been following it's progression online, but am too filled with social anxiety to actually join. I think it's a wonderful idea, different speakers giving tips on rejuvenating your memory. I might pop in one of these weeks.
My favorite thing to say to people when I have one of my "I can't think of the word" moments is "I used to be smart, really I did". Maybe I'll be smart again someday.
Yesterday was rainy AND a Monday!
The Carpenters vinyl record was one of the first I owned and is still one of my favorites. As children, we used to play the album and dance. As a child, I thought they were such a romantic couple. As an adult, I thought that the thought of this brother and sister being a romantic couple was quite sick.
Does anyone else just feel like going back to bed and pulling the covers over your head on rainy dark dreary days?
Does anyone else just feel like going back to bed and pulling the covers over your head on rainy dark dreary days?
Talkin' to myself and feelin' old
Sometimes I'd like to quit, nothin' ever seems to fit
Hangin' around, nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
What I've got they used to call the blues
Nothin' is really wrong, feelin' like I don't belong
Walkin' around, some kind of lonely clown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
Funny, but it seems I always wind up here with you
Nice to know somebody loves me
Funny, but it seems that it's the only thing to do
Run and find the one who loves me
(The one who loves me)
What I feel has come and gone before
No need to talk it out
[From: http://www.elyrics.net]
(Talk it out)
We know what it's all about
Hangin' around
(Hangin' around)
Nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
Funny, but it seems that it's the only thing to do
(Only thing to do)
Run and find the one who loves me
What I feel has come and gone before
No need to talk it out
(Talk it out)
We know what it's all about
Hangin' around
(Hangin' around)
Nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
Hangin' around
(Hangin' around)
Nothin' to do but frown
Rainy days and Mondays always get me down
Lyrics from eLyrics.net
Monday, April 8, 2013
Instant Gratification
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
So right now, I have a fundraiser going on to raise money for our adoption that will hopefully happen in the near future. A couple friends convinced me to start a "Mindi Party" for donations to Mark and I. I'm not all that happy with the results thus far.
Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful to the friends who have donated almost $500. I really am! And that will help with the application fee for adoption. I guess I just expected more. Maybe not more money, but more help with getting the word out. More sharing of the link to the fundraiser. I guess I envisioned my friends wanting to post the link and help raise money for us.
But when I think about it, I'm the one who has always done all the "advertising" for my friends' benefits. To the point of annoyance. And I know that I post too much. And I know that it bothers people. But I also know that, in the past anyway (when it didn't involve fundraising for myself), it has worked. I've raised some decent funds for others. So why can't I do it for myself?
We're asking a LOT.....$10,000. And that doesn't even cover the entire amount. That's a LOT. Especially in this day and age. I get that. I also get that some of the donations have been from total strangers, people who saw the link to the fundraiser, read our story, and donated. All it takes is sharing the link.
If everyone who saw the link donated $10.....we'd have our adoption fee and home study fee. I guess I'm just surprised that some friends haven't donated. Maybe I'm hoping for too much? Maybe I'm being too greedy.
Maybe I should just have another Scentsy party.
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
So right now, I have a fundraiser going on to raise money for our adoption that will hopefully happen in the near future. A couple friends convinced me to start a "Mindi Party" for donations to Mark and I. I'm not all that happy with the results thus far.
Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful to the friends who have donated almost $500. I really am! And that will help with the application fee for adoption. I guess I just expected more. Maybe not more money, but more help with getting the word out. More sharing of the link to the fundraiser. I guess I envisioned my friends wanting to post the link and help raise money for us.
But when I think about it, I'm the one who has always done all the "advertising" for my friends' benefits. To the point of annoyance. And I know that I post too much. And I know that it bothers people. But I also know that, in the past anyway (when it didn't involve fundraising for myself), it has worked. I've raised some decent funds for others. So why can't I do it for myself?
We're asking a LOT.....$10,000. And that doesn't even cover the entire amount. That's a LOT. Especially in this day and age. I get that. I also get that some of the donations have been from total strangers, people who saw the link to the fundraiser, read our story, and donated. All it takes is sharing the link.
If everyone who saw the link donated $10.....we'd have our adoption fee and home study fee. I guess I'm just surprised that some friends haven't donated. Maybe I'm hoping for too much? Maybe I'm being too greedy.
Maybe I should just have another Scentsy party.
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Panic Attacks
It HAD been years or at least a year since I have had a full-blown panic attack. I used to have such severe panic attacks that I ended up in the ER. Prozac has really worked well for me over the past few years.....until today. I had a panic attack. No idea why. No reasoning. But it was manageable. Not my favorite way to spend a Sunday afternoon but I made it through. Lorazepam to the rescue!
Years ago, I was ashamed to mention my panic attacks. My ex-husband thought I made them up. I thought I was losing my mind (the jury is still out on that). NOW it seems that many of my friends have anxiety or panic attack issues. It's more the norm these days, I think. Or maybe people aren't afraid to talk about them?
I still remember the feeling of finally giving in and going on Prozac. What a negative stigma Prozac had, at least back in 2008 when I went on it. I had tried Imipramine, Trazadone, Zoloft, Paxil....nothing worked. A few weeks after starting on Prozac, I knew I had found the right medicine. My father-in-law said to me "please don't ever go off of your Prozac". Apparently it has made me a more tolerable human being. And I'm okay with that!
Years ago, I was ashamed to mention my panic attacks. My ex-husband thought I made them up. I thought I was losing my mind (the jury is still out on that). NOW it seems that many of my friends have anxiety or panic attack issues. It's more the norm these days, I think. Or maybe people aren't afraid to talk about them?
I still remember the feeling of finally giving in and going on Prozac. What a negative stigma Prozac had, at least back in 2008 when I went on it. I had tried Imipramine, Trazadone, Zoloft, Paxil....nothing worked. A few weeks after starting on Prozac, I knew I had found the right medicine. My father-in-law said to me "please don't ever go off of your Prozac". Apparently it has made me a more tolerable human being. And I'm okay with that!
Sometimes you feel like a nut.....
Mindi's Helpful Hint of the Day: If you buy the DELUXE mixed nuts, then you don't have to pick all the good ones out and leave your husband with the icky peanuts.
Saturday, April 6, 2013
Vermont
As I sit here in Wisconsin munching on some Vermont sharp cheddar, I once again start missing Vermont.
It's been 9 years since we moved from there and we haven't been back. Not for lack of trying, that's for sure. We tried to make it back for my 25th high school reunion in 2011. Unfortunately, I was recovering from cancer and chemo and the surgery to remove my bladder and uterus. And then I ended up back in the hospital with septic shock and a kidney infection.
To be honest, although I miss Vermont a LOT (and the people in Vermont especially), I'm a bit scared to go back, even for a visit. To leave the people who performed my surgery and know what an Indiana Pouch IS....scary. To leave all my doctors...very frightening.
In the back of my mind, I always thought that Mark and I would retire back to Vermont someday. I know, right? Crazy, when most normal humans try to head toward warmer weather. We can't afford to live there right now. We could when Mark worked at IBM but not now. We could never own a home again, could never afford it. I'm not sure how anyone affords to live there anymore.
But still, maybe a visit. Maybe once we're settled and perhaps have adopted a child. I always wanted to raise my children in VT. I grew up in VT and think it's a great place to have a childhood. But I also know that I need to be within a QUICK trip to a knowledgeable hospital, whether living there or visiting. So, where would that put us?
It's been 9 years since we moved from there and we haven't been back. Not for lack of trying, that's for sure. We tried to make it back for my 25th high school reunion in 2011. Unfortunately, I was recovering from cancer and chemo and the surgery to remove my bladder and uterus. And then I ended up back in the hospital with septic shock and a kidney infection.
To be honest, although I miss Vermont a LOT (and the people in Vermont especially), I'm a bit scared to go back, even for a visit. To leave the people who performed my surgery and know what an Indiana Pouch IS....scary. To leave all my doctors...very frightening.
In the back of my mind, I always thought that Mark and I would retire back to Vermont someday. I know, right? Crazy, when most normal humans try to head toward warmer weather. We can't afford to live there right now. We could when Mark worked at IBM but not now. We could never own a home again, could never afford it. I'm not sure how anyone affords to live there anymore.
But still, maybe a visit. Maybe once we're settled and perhaps have adopted a child. I always wanted to raise my children in VT. I grew up in VT and think it's a great place to have a childhood. But I also know that I need to be within a QUICK trip to a knowledgeable hospital, whether living there or visiting. So, where would that put us?
That's our story and we're sticking to it!!
This is what we consider to be our "last chance" at having a child in our lives. I'm about to turn 45. I've lost three children and two years ago lost my bladder and uterus to cancer. We've fostered children for years and had four failed adoptions. Last chance adoption. If we can afford it.
My life reads like a soap opera. When I was 11, my sisters and I were hit by a car while waiting for the school bus. My little sister Kathy didn't survive. I was raised by a wonderful Mom and an abusive alcoholic Father. And then I married an abusive, drug addicted husband. Stayed with him for 12 years until I had the strength to leave.
In 2001, I met Mark, the most wonderful man ever. We married in 2003. In 2005, at the age of 37, Mark and I conceived our first child. In 2006, I gave birth to our son Daniel, too early for him to survive. Later that year, we lost our second child.
Fast forward to 2010 (time spent between 2006 and 2010 resulted in our becoming foster parents and having three failed adoptions). At the age of 42, I found out I was pregnant. Went for an ultrasound, where they found numerous tumors in my bladder. I lost the baby and started chemotherapy in Dec 2010.
In March 2011, I had my bladder surgically removed, along with my uterus....losing any chance of having our own baby. But, in the end, I was/am currently cancer-free. We named our third baby "Angel" for saving my life.
We became licensed as foster parents again, and had a 15 month old baby girl placed with us. On March 1, 2013, after living with us for over a year, baby girl was taken and given to an Aunt in another state. Failed adoption number 4.
Through all of this, my husband Mark has been the best friend, nurse, Father, husband, caretaker ever. He deserves to have a child. WE deserve to have a child. We've looked into adoption and have started the process, which could take years. Any financial help would be so appreciated!
In 2001, I met Mark, the most wonderful man ever. We married in 2003. In 2005, at the age of 37, Mark and I conceived our first child. In 2006, I gave birth to our son Daniel, too early for him to survive. Later that year, we lost our second child.
Fast forward to 2010 (time spent between 2006 and 2010 resulted in our becoming foster parents and having three failed adoptions). At the age of 42, I found out I was pregnant. Went for an ultrasound, where they found numerous tumors in my bladder. I lost the baby and started chemotherapy in Dec 2010.
In March 2011, I had my bladder surgically removed, along with my uterus....losing any chance of having our own baby. But, in the end, I was/am currently cancer-free. We named our third baby "Angel" for saving my life.
We became licensed as foster parents again, and had a 15 month old baby girl placed with us. On March 1, 2013, after living with us for over a year, baby girl was taken and given to an Aunt in another state. Failed adoption number 4.
Through all of this, my husband Mark has been the best friend, nurse, Father, husband, caretaker ever. He deserves to have a child. WE deserve to have a child. We've looked into adoption and have started the process, which could take years. Any financial help would be so appreciated!
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Hello Hutchinson, MN!!
Haven't lived there in 6 years, but someone there finds me very interesting! I just wanted to say hello there and I hope you are liking what you read.
Friday, April 5, 2013
WHYWHYWHY
I just found out that our former foster daughter lost her birth Mom on Tuesday. She was 49. She was always SO nice to Mark and I, wrote us letters thanking us for taking care of her daughter, sent us cards. Such a sweet woman. RIP Maria
Roger Ebert
This is a post I wrote when Ted Kennedy passed away in 2009. If you swap his name out for that of Roger Ebert, I am feeling the same today. Celebrity deaths hit me hard. Death hits me hard. I just read on Facebook that one of our good friends lost their sister (and sister in law) on Monday to cancer. Billie Jo and Larry, you guys are in our thoughts. Death is never easy....but death to cancer? Cancer SUCKS.
Death
Ted Kennedy passed away last night. As I posted on Facebook, I'll never understand why death affects me the way it does. Or maybe I DO understand and don't want to face it.
I know everyone expects me to post funny or absurd things, but today I'm not feeling funny.
Death affects everyone differently. For me, death started slapping me in the face when I was 11. My two sisters and I were waiting for the school bus when a car slid on black ice and hit us. I was thrown across the street into our front yard, and the car landed on top of my sister Kathy Jo, who was 8 and my sister Lisa, who was 13. Kathy Jo had almost every bone in her body broken, and she didn't make it. My family changed after that day. My father started drinking heavily. My mother relied upon her Bible and Church. My sister Lisa became a totally different, unhappy person. I became.....morbid. negative. pessimistic. I hid it very well in my "class clown" facade.
When I was 22, my nephew Dylan, age 9 months, passed away. I NEVER AGAIN want to attend a funeral with a tiny little casket like Dylan's.
When I was 24, my good friend Jill was murdered by her estranged husband. He shot her three times in her apartment, and when she jumped through the second story window and was laying on the ground, shot her twice more. He then left with their four year old daughter, who had witnessed everything. August 20th was the 17th anniversary of Jill's death.
When I was 25, my father went in for a routine leg operation and had a massive heart attack. His death affected me as I never thought it would. We never had a close relationship. I was the open book daughter who said whatever she felt, and I never pretended that he was anything more than an alcoholic. Of course, six months prior to his death, he had stopped drinking and smoking and we had begun to patch up our very rough relationship. Regrets stink.
When I was 36, my husband's brother was found dead of a drug overdose. He was days away from turning 36. A year later, Grampa Vince (Mark's Grandfather and the only Grandfather I had ever known. Vince walked me down the aisle in 2003) passed away. As we flew out to attend his funeral, Mark and I were suspicious that, for the first time in my 17 years of trying, I had conceived. The day we returned home from the funeral, I had a beta done, and was, indeed pregnant.
January 4, 2006, at 14 weeks 2 days, we lost our son Daniel. I honestly didn't think I was going to survive this death. Mark and I got through it together, and conceived again in July of 2006....only to lose that baby at about 7 weeks. Even though I'm 41, we're talking about trying again. It's sad that I can honestly say, the second miscarriage didn't affect me as losing Daniel did.
And so, today, when I woke to the news that Ted Kennedy had passed away....I am affected the same way. I think of all I've lost. How cynical I've become. How I still have hope, God knows why. My husband Mark has saved my life, and my sanity, over and over again.
Okay. I have to go post something funny on Facebook now.
I know everyone expects me to post funny or absurd things, but today I'm not feeling funny.
Death affects everyone differently. For me, death started slapping me in the face when I was 11. My two sisters and I were waiting for the school bus when a car slid on black ice and hit us. I was thrown across the street into our front yard, and the car landed on top of my sister Kathy Jo, who was 8 and my sister Lisa, who was 13. Kathy Jo had almost every bone in her body broken, and she didn't make it. My family changed after that day. My father started drinking heavily. My mother relied upon her Bible and Church. My sister Lisa became a totally different, unhappy person. I became.....morbid. negative. pessimistic. I hid it very well in my "class clown" facade.
When I was 22, my nephew Dylan, age 9 months, passed away. I NEVER AGAIN want to attend a funeral with a tiny little casket like Dylan's.
When I was 24, my good friend Jill was murdered by her estranged husband. He shot her three times in her apartment, and when she jumped through the second story window and was laying on the ground, shot her twice more. He then left with their four year old daughter, who had witnessed everything. August 20th was the 17th anniversary of Jill's death.
When I was 25, my father went in for a routine leg operation and had a massive heart attack. His death affected me as I never thought it would. We never had a close relationship. I was the open book daughter who said whatever she felt, and I never pretended that he was anything more than an alcoholic. Of course, six months prior to his death, he had stopped drinking and smoking and we had begun to patch up our very rough relationship. Regrets stink.
When I was 36, my husband's brother was found dead of a drug overdose. He was days away from turning 36. A year later, Grampa Vince (Mark's Grandfather and the only Grandfather I had ever known. Vince walked me down the aisle in 2003) passed away. As we flew out to attend his funeral, Mark and I were suspicious that, for the first time in my 17 years of trying, I had conceived. The day we returned home from the funeral, I had a beta done, and was, indeed pregnant.
January 4, 2006, at 14 weeks 2 days, we lost our son Daniel. I honestly didn't think I was going to survive this death. Mark and I got through it together, and conceived again in July of 2006....only to lose that baby at about 7 weeks. Even though I'm 41, we're talking about trying again. It's sad that I can honestly say, the second miscarriage didn't affect me as losing Daniel did.
And so, today, when I woke to the news that Ted Kennedy had passed away....I am affected the same way. I think of all I've lost. How cynical I've become. How I still have hope, God knows why. My husband Mark has saved my life, and my sanity, over and over again.
Okay. I have to go post something funny on Facebook now.
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Narcissism
Sometimes typing in my blog feels so narcissistic. It's all about me me me.
I've been searching on YouTube for information on bladder cancer. It's easier to explain myself, and my new attitude, once bladder cancer is explained. For the past few years, it has been all about me me me....and that bothers me.
Mark has gone through more with me than any man should have to. There is a huge rate of divorce in couple affected by cancer. Huge. And Mark never left my side. I remember an EMT rolling me down to radiology for yet another CT scan, and I just started crying. He asked me if I was okay, and I said "I just feel so bad for Mark". I got a nice little lecture from this EMT that started off with "you're the one with cancer". I don't think you know until you've been through it, but if you're in a strong relationship with your caregiver/spouse/friend, the caregiver ALSO has the cancer. The caregiver probably goes through more emotionally than the patient!
Mark sat for 12 hours in the hospital, by himself, for my surgery. Those 12 hours were nothing to me, but can you imagine what went through his head while he was waiting? He said that when he finally got to see me in recovery, he had to look away at first. I looked THAT bad. Or as my wonderful husband put it...."you looked like shit". I felt like shit. I felt like I wanted to die.
My fight with cancer was OUR fight with cancer. I've never known such love and support and understanding in my life. While anyone who knows Mark knows that he is a quiet, shy man....it's that quiet strength that got us through the cancer. I couldn't have done it without him. And again, not to sound too narcissistic, but I am blessed.
Okay....here's a few videos about bladder cancer, about the diversion I chose, and survival.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2_hjP8Skw4w
There's always hope
Yesterday morning I was down in the dumps, big time. Decided to take some time for myself and stop posting so much on Facebook, which seems to take over my life at times.
Yesterday afternoon had a very long conversation with the neighboring county Social Services. Although Mark and I are very much against the county that we are licensed with due to their handling of Kyler's transfer, we also LOVE fostering. We've always said that even if we adopt, we'll still keep a room ready for foster babies.
Anyway....liked the feeling I came away with after speaking with the next county over. We're going to proceed with talking with them, meet with them and go from there. We'll be transferring our license to that county within the next month or so.
In the meantime, we have our adoption class on April 10th. They have all our information and this is just one of those "sit and wait" situations. Could be a month, could be a few years. So we'll have the foster care to keep us busy while waiting. And we always have something going on with the Three Stooges as well.
I was talking with one of my good friends last night and I told her that I have nothing to do, no one to take care of. The doctor imposed rest isn't making things easier. But as long as I have things to look forward to....fostering, adopting, my vegetable garden coming soon, our cottage reserved up north for the 4th of July, Mark's and my 10th wedding anniversary on June 21, my birthday (hopefully NOT in the hospital this year) on April 21.....I will survive.
I'm still alive.
Yesterday afternoon had a very long conversation with the neighboring county Social Services. Although Mark and I are very much against the county that we are licensed with due to their handling of Kyler's transfer, we also LOVE fostering. We've always said that even if we adopt, we'll still keep a room ready for foster babies.
Anyway....liked the feeling I came away with after speaking with the next county over. We're going to proceed with talking with them, meet with them and go from there. We'll be transferring our license to that county within the next month or so.
In the meantime, we have our adoption class on April 10th. They have all our information and this is just one of those "sit and wait" situations. Could be a month, could be a few years. So we'll have the foster care to keep us busy while waiting. And we always have something going on with the Three Stooges as well.
I was talking with one of my good friends last night and I told her that I have nothing to do, no one to take care of. The doctor imposed rest isn't making things easier. But as long as I have things to look forward to....fostering, adopting, my vegetable garden coming soon, our cottage reserved up north for the 4th of July, Mark's and my 10th wedding anniversary on June 21, my birthday (hopefully NOT in the hospital this year) on April 21.....I will survive.
I'm still alive.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Only $9820.00 to go!
Just keep swimming Mindi, just keep swimming
Just keep swimming
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
This is what we consider to be our "last chance" at having a child in our lives. I'm about to turn 45. I've lost three children and two years ago lost my bladder and uterus to cancer. We've fostered children for years and had four failed adoptions. Last chance adoption. If we can afford it.
My life reads like a soap opera. When I was 11, my sisters and I were hit by a car while waiting for the school bus. My little sister Kathy didn't survive. I was raised by a wonderful Mom and an abusive alcoholic Father. And then I married an abusive, drug addicted husband. Stayed with him for 12 years until I had the strength to leave.
In 2001, I met Mark, the most wonderful man ever. We married in 2003. In 2005, at the age of 37, Mark and I conceived our first child. In 2006, I gave birth to our son Daniel, too early for him to survive. Later that year, we lost our second child.
Fast forward to 2010 (time spent between 2006 and 2010 resulted in our becoming foster parents and having three failed adoptions). At the age of 42, I found out I was pregnant. Went for an ultrasound, where they found numerous tumors in my bladder. I lost the baby and started chemotherapy in Dec 2010.
In March 2011, I had my bladder surgically removed, along with my uterus....losing any chance of having our own baby. But, in the end, I was/am currently cancer-free. We named our third baby "Angel" for saving my life.
We became licensed as foster parents again, and had a 15 month old baby girl placed with us. On March 1, 2013, after living with us for over a year, baby girl was taken and given to an Aunt in another state. Failed adoption number 4.
Through all of this, my husband Mark has been the best friend, nurse, Father, husband, caretaker ever. He deserves to have a child. WE deserve to have a child. We've looked into adoption and have started the process, which could take years. Any financial help would be so appreciated!
In 2001, I met Mark, the most wonderful man ever. We married in 2003. In 2005, at the age of 37, Mark and I conceived our first child. In 2006, I gave birth to our son Daniel, too early for him to survive. Later that year, we lost our second child.
Fast forward to 2010 (time spent between 2006 and 2010 resulted in our becoming foster parents and having three failed adoptions). At the age of 42, I found out I was pregnant. Went for an ultrasound, where they found numerous tumors in my bladder. I lost the baby and started chemotherapy in Dec 2010.
In March 2011, I had my bladder surgically removed, along with my uterus....losing any chance of having our own baby. But, in the end, I was/am currently cancer-free. We named our third baby "Angel" for saving my life.
We became licensed as foster parents again, and had a 15 month old baby girl placed with us. On March 1, 2013, after living with us for over a year, baby girl was taken and given to an Aunt in another state. Failed adoption number 4.
Through all of this, my husband Mark has been the best friend, nurse, Father, husband, caretaker ever. He deserves to have a child. WE deserve to have a child. We've looked into adoption and have started the process, which could take years. Any financial help would be so appreciated!
Throwing a Mindi hissy fit
Today has been a day....and a half. But dill pickles and processed cheese can cure the woes of the world. No, really.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
Go Fund THIS!
I'm so used to giving sales pitches for other causes. I'm the Scentsy Party queen...I hold online parties to benefit people, and I have no problem posting to the point of annoyance. So why is trying to fund-raise for Mark and I so tough?
I love begging for money for other people. Deserving people. People who need and appreciate the money I work so hard for. I do NOT love begging for money for myself. I feel pitiful. Three days of fundraising and three donations. It all started out so nicely, with a quick $100 donation. Gave me hope.
Yes, I will give it time. I don't think we can grow the $10,000 we need for adoption on a tree. Wish we could. Believe me you, I am well aware of just how obnoxious I can be when it comes to this posting thing. I need you to remind me. Make me STOP!!
Yes, $10,000 is a LOT of money to ask for by any stretch of the imagination. Unfortunately that's the minimum we need to adopt a child. If we are going to adopt a child. If we are lucky enough and blessed enough to adopt a child.
Please know that I hate to ask. I really do. But even a $5 donation, if enough people donate, helps!
Here's the link. Please consider it. And I will consider stopping with all the frickin posting. For tonight. And maybe tomorrow. Thanks!
GO FUND ME
I love begging for money for other people. Deserving people. People who need and appreciate the money I work so hard for. I do NOT love begging for money for myself. I feel pitiful. Three days of fundraising and three donations. It all started out so nicely, with a quick $100 donation. Gave me hope.
Yes, I will give it time. I don't think we can grow the $10,000 we need for adoption on a tree. Wish we could. Believe me you, I am well aware of just how obnoxious I can be when it comes to this posting thing. I need you to remind me. Make me STOP!!
Yes, $10,000 is a LOT of money to ask for by any stretch of the imagination. Unfortunately that's the minimum we need to adopt a child. If we are going to adopt a child. If we are lucky enough and blessed enough to adopt a child.
Please know that I hate to ask. I really do. But even a $5 donation, if enough people donate, helps!
Here's the link. Please consider it. And I will consider stopping with all the frickin posting. For tonight. And maybe tomorrow. Thanks!
GO FUND ME
I have OCD
Psychiatrist and therapist diagnosed OCD. I also have PTSD. I also suffer from severe anxiety and panic attacks. With a touch of agoraphobia tossed in for good measure. Yes, I am one messed up individual. Would you expect anything less from Mindi? The good news is, "they" say that people with OCD tend to be very intelligent. Yeah.
My OCD manifests itself in some annoying fashions. I obsess. I like immediate responses and if I don't get them, I will hound the hell out of you until I get what I want. I count. My number is 8. Crooked things really bother me. I need everything in my life to go as planned or I get thrown off balance. My house is clean. I stick to the plan. I need routine.
Now if THIS doesn't make you want to "friend" me, I don't know what will?
My OCD manifests itself in some annoying fashions. I obsess. I like immediate responses and if I don't get them, I will hound the hell out of you until I get what I want. I count. My number is 8. Crooked things really bother me. I need everything in my life to go as planned or I get thrown off balance. My house is clean. I stick to the plan. I need routine.
Now if THIS doesn't make you want to "friend" me, I don't know what will?
I am sad
I can remember, years and years ago, my college professor telling me that I was a "morbid writer". Everything I wrote about was sad. As I sit here writing this, I'm crying. Emotional wreck is putting it mildly.
I'm not a sad person as in depressed. I just feel like I have this huge heavy load of historically sad moments in my life and I can't make them go away. And every time I try to think positive and be an upbeat person, something in my world crashes. How can someone be happy when they know that another sad event looms just around the corner?
I put on a good face. I try to entertain people. I try to make everyone else happy. It makes for a good facade.
No, I'm not suicidal. I'm not ready to be locked away. I just need some GOOD things to happen for me. Don't get me wrong, I am very lucky to have what I have and to be blessed with Mark and good friends. But I really need something GOOD to happen in my life. How many times can a person be smacked down before they refuse to even bother to get back up?
I'm not a sad person as in depressed. I just feel like I have this huge heavy load of historically sad moments in my life and I can't make them go away. And every time I try to think positive and be an upbeat person, something in my world crashes. How can someone be happy when they know that another sad event looms just around the corner?
I put on a good face. I try to entertain people. I try to make everyone else happy. It makes for a good facade.
No, I'm not suicidal. I'm not ready to be locked away. I just need some GOOD things to happen for me. Don't get me wrong, I am very lucky to have what I have and to be blessed with Mark and good friends. But I really need something GOOD to happen in my life. How many times can a person be smacked down before they refuse to even bother to get back up?
Monday, April 1, 2013
Random Thoughts
Am I too old and/or handicapped to parent a child? I know Mark has the energy, but do I? Having Kyler here for over a year was fun, but exhausting. Toddlers tend to be that way apparently. I miss her so much, think about her all the time, wonder how she's doing, wonder if she remembers her time with us.
When we fostered in the past, the majority of our children were male. Most around one year old. I always thought that I preferred to have boys in the house. And then came Kyler. She was such a cool kid. She reminded me of....me. What an attitude! Such a smart little girl. She had Mark wrapped around her finger and she knew it. It was pointless to say no to her because she knew how to play Mark and get what she wanted.
On the adoption application, they ask if you have a preference for race, religion, special needs. We don't care. We CARE, but we don't care. We never have cared what a person looks like. We love them all. We would love to adopt a child with Downs if we could. I have a nephew with Downs and I took care of a little boy with Downs back in high school. Such loving children.
We're still throwing around the idea of fostering again...but I'm relatively sure we won't go that route again. It's too heartbreaking. It takes too much out of us and our home and our dogs and our marriage. Not knowing when the child is going to be leaving your home is stressful. How can they ask that you NOT become attached to a small child that needs you? Impossible.
I regret allowing the doctors to remove my uterus, but in the back of my mind, I know it had to be done. Ironic that I conceived on my own at 42. I'll always wonder if I could have conceived again, after the cancer. It's the not knowing and the what ifs that will drive anyone insane.
We have our adoption class with Lutheran Social Services on April 10. From there, we have a homestudy done and we wait. They do two "raffles" a year, drawing from a pool of potential parents and matching them with children. Am hoping we have some money saved for the "just in case we luck out" possibility that our name is picked. The thought of actually having a child TO KEEP, the thought of having a family...so exciting, scary, emotional. This is our last shot. I hope it works.
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
When we fostered in the past, the majority of our children were male. Most around one year old. I always thought that I preferred to have boys in the house. And then came Kyler. She was such a cool kid. She reminded me of....me. What an attitude! Such a smart little girl. She had Mark wrapped around her finger and she knew it. It was pointless to say no to her because she knew how to play Mark and get what she wanted.
On the adoption application, they ask if you have a preference for race, religion, special needs. We don't care. We CARE, but we don't care. We never have cared what a person looks like. We love them all. We would love to adopt a child with Downs if we could. I have a nephew with Downs and I took care of a little boy with Downs back in high school. Such loving children.
We're still throwing around the idea of fostering again...but I'm relatively sure we won't go that route again. It's too heartbreaking. It takes too much out of us and our home and our dogs and our marriage. Not knowing when the child is going to be leaving your home is stressful. How can they ask that you NOT become attached to a small child that needs you? Impossible.
I regret allowing the doctors to remove my uterus, but in the back of my mind, I know it had to be done. Ironic that I conceived on my own at 42. I'll always wonder if I could have conceived again, after the cancer. It's the not knowing and the what ifs that will drive anyone insane.
We have our adoption class with Lutheran Social Services on April 10. From there, we have a homestudy done and we wait. They do two "raffles" a year, drawing from a pool of potential parents and matching them with children. Am hoping we have some money saved for the "just in case we luck out" possibility that our name is picked. The thought of actually having a child TO KEEP, the thought of having a family...so exciting, scary, emotional. This is our last shot. I hope it works.
http://www.gofundme.com/2g6mss
Bladder cancer
About 10 years ago, I started having visible blood and clots in my urine. Every time I went to the doctors about it, they chalked it up to another UTI. I also have PCOS which leads to abnormal paps, abnormal cycles, abnormal....everything. So I thought nothing of it when I, for about 7 years, regularly urinated blood. Doctors are always right, right?
So when I found out in October of 2010 that I was pregnant, without the use of any fertility drugs (our first two, our son Daniel and our early loss we named Sweetpea, were Clomid babies), I felt like maybe this time we'd have the baby we always wanted.
When I started showing some blood in my urine, the OBGYN once again put me on antibiotics, assuming it was another UTI. But then when none of my symptoms changed, THIS OBGYN went one step further....she must have had suspicions? She had me in for an ultrasound for what I thought was to check on the baby (we never did get to see the baby on ultrasound. At least with our other two, I have photos as memories). No baby. Scan over to bladder. Tons of tumors. Covered in tumors.
I didn't realize it at the time, frankly because the "C" word has always scared the living shit out of me......I was just delusional enough to think that the tumors were just many MANY polyps. Duh Mindi. I went for a specialized scope the following Monday at a Urologist's office. Even when he showed me all the "polyps" close up, I was still thinking it's not cancer. It's polyps.
Fast forward a whole week. I had outpatient surgery, called a TURBT. They knock you out and go into your bladder and scrape and burn and take samples for pathology. Fun times. I remember waking up from the surgery in the waiting room, looking at the nurse and saying "get this f'n thing out of me" (I used the complete word though!).....I had a catheter inside of me that I wanted removed IMMEDIATELY. Funny, I now catheterize many times daily and have a lifetime supply of the things!
Waiting on pathology takes forever, seems like forever anyway. I was such a mess waiting. When the results finally came in, I would not wait for a doctor's appointment. I begged and pleaded and the doctor finally called me with the results. Stage II and possibly III bladder cancer. Gold standard treatment....chemo and then bladder removal. Things got pretty real after that.
My psychiatrist said that I shut off all my other mental health issues (anxiety, OCD, panic attacks, PTSD) to deal with the cancer. And, all in all, I think I dealt with is rather well. People told me how proud they were of me. What else are you going to do when they say it's cancer? Sink or swim. Fight or die. I chose to just keep swimming and fight.
Chemo sucked but was survivable. Tired all the time. Threw up a couple times. Lost most of my hair. Had wonderful husband and neighbors and friends to help me through it all. I felt bad for Mark and kept wondering when he was going to leave me. That man stood by my side through it ALL. Not an easy task.
Surgery on March 24, 2011. LONG day, for everyone but me because I was out. 12 hours. Removal of my bladder, removal of my uterus, removal of a bunch of nodes for testing. And then another surgeon built me my new fangled Indiana Pouch, an interior reservoir that holds urine. I now urinate through a catheter that is stuck into my belly button stoma. Yes, I'm sexy and I know it.
Lasting affects of this whole drama? I still suffer from chemo brain (yes, it IS real). My short term memory is awful. I struggle to find the right words sometimes. I seem to visit our local hospital once a year for a week or so....infections, septic shock, abscesses, hematomas.....most know me by name there. I have a hernia the size of a basketball that cannot be fixed without a huge surgery, the moving of my stoma, and probably having an outside bag the rest of my life. And so I adjust. I live. I thank God for my family and friends. And I hope.
So when I found out in October of 2010 that I was pregnant, without the use of any fertility drugs (our first two, our son Daniel and our early loss we named Sweetpea, were Clomid babies), I felt like maybe this time we'd have the baby we always wanted.
When I started showing some blood in my urine, the OBGYN once again put me on antibiotics, assuming it was another UTI. But then when none of my symptoms changed, THIS OBGYN went one step further....she must have had suspicions? She had me in for an ultrasound for what I thought was to check on the baby (we never did get to see the baby on ultrasound. At least with our other two, I have photos as memories). No baby. Scan over to bladder. Tons of tumors. Covered in tumors.
I didn't realize it at the time, frankly because the "C" word has always scared the living shit out of me......I was just delusional enough to think that the tumors were just many MANY polyps. Duh Mindi. I went for a specialized scope the following Monday at a Urologist's office. Even when he showed me all the "polyps" close up, I was still thinking it's not cancer. It's polyps.
Fast forward a whole week. I had outpatient surgery, called a TURBT. They knock you out and go into your bladder and scrape and burn and take samples for pathology. Fun times. I remember waking up from the surgery in the waiting room, looking at the nurse and saying "get this f'n thing out of me" (I used the complete word though!).....I had a catheter inside of me that I wanted removed IMMEDIATELY. Funny, I now catheterize many times daily and have a lifetime supply of the things!
Waiting on pathology takes forever, seems like forever anyway. I was such a mess waiting. When the results finally came in, I would not wait for a doctor's appointment. I begged and pleaded and the doctor finally called me with the results. Stage II and possibly III bladder cancer. Gold standard treatment....chemo and then bladder removal. Things got pretty real after that.
My psychiatrist said that I shut off all my other mental health issues (anxiety, OCD, panic attacks, PTSD) to deal with the cancer. And, all in all, I think I dealt with is rather well. People told me how proud they were of me. What else are you going to do when they say it's cancer? Sink or swim. Fight or die. I chose to just keep swimming and fight.
Chemo sucked but was survivable. Tired all the time. Threw up a couple times. Lost most of my hair. Had wonderful husband and neighbors and friends to help me through it all. I felt bad for Mark and kept wondering when he was going to leave me. That man stood by my side through it ALL. Not an easy task.
Surgery on March 24, 2011. LONG day, for everyone but me because I was out. 12 hours. Removal of my bladder, removal of my uterus, removal of a bunch of nodes for testing. And then another surgeon built me my new fangled Indiana Pouch, an interior reservoir that holds urine. I now urinate through a catheter that is stuck into my belly button stoma. Yes, I'm sexy and I know it.
Lasting affects of this whole drama? I still suffer from chemo brain (yes, it IS real). My short term memory is awful. I struggle to find the right words sometimes. I seem to visit our local hospital once a year for a week or so....infections, septic shock, abscesses, hematomas.....most know me by name there. I have a hernia the size of a basketball that cannot be fixed without a huge surgery, the moving of my stoma, and probably having an outside bag the rest of my life. And so I adjust. I live. I thank God for my family and friends. And I hope.
Ugh, April Fools
Please tell me when April Fools is over and done with. I know it's supposed to be funny, but my heart drops every time I see someone posting about moving away. I have a bit of separation anxiety.
Our nursery is waiting for an occupant
At the end of 2011, when we were applying to become licensed, our dear friends Jen and Annie went and purchased some baby furniture and supplies from Annie's sister, for us. They gave us a nice crib, a stroller, a pack n play, a high chair, and a quilt with wooden clips to hang it up. They were from the John Lennon "Real Love" collection that had been discontinued back in 2000.
Because I wanted everything to be perfect (and perhaps a little because of my OCD), I went on Ebay and purchased everything I could from the John Lennon collection. We now have blankets, bedding, valances, book ends, organizers, a clock, photos, rugs, all the stuffed animals, lamp, nightlights and a ceiling fan.....everything to match. The mobile and the two musical stuffed animals all play "Imagine".
After Kyler was moved to her Aunt's house, Jen and Annie once again came to the rescue and helped us pack all her things up (14 large cardboard boxes and a toy box). Annie came over a few days later and painted the nursery and we rearranged it so that it looks nothing like when our baby girl lived there. It's all ready to go and just waiting now.
Sometimes I just go in there and sit and think. Sometimes I go in there and cry.
Because I wanted everything to be perfect (and perhaps a little because of my OCD), I went on Ebay and purchased everything I could from the John Lennon collection. We now have blankets, bedding, valances, book ends, organizers, a clock, photos, rugs, all the stuffed animals, lamp, nightlights and a ceiling fan.....everything to match. The mobile and the two musical stuffed animals all play "Imagine".
After Kyler was moved to her Aunt's house, Jen and Annie once again came to the rescue and helped us pack all her things up (14 large cardboard boxes and a toy box). Annie came over a few days later and painted the nursery and we rearranged it so that it looks nothing like when our baby girl lived there. It's all ready to go and just waiting now.
Sometimes I just go in there and sit and think. Sometimes I go in there and cry.
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