My Mom Inadvertently Joined the Cancer Club

It was hard to hear my dad report back everything the doctors had told them about my mom's colon cancer as I sat in their home. Hard for many reasons, but partially, it's hard because apparently, I had expectations. My mind kept rethinking, "This is that moment where my mom tells me she has cancer." I didn't realize I had an idea of what a moment like that would entail, but I did. 

The most encouraging phrase she and my dad offered was that the oncologist had told them, "It will be a rough year." There were no final sentences or timeframes, just "a rough year."

For the most part, my mom's month of chemo and radiation treatment has been very calm. Her body handled it pretty well until the last week. With burns on her hands and feet and feeling too weak to walk, my mom heroically pushed through the last few rounds of treatments. 

The side effects of chemo are subsiding, and now, she will have her tumor removed surgically in the next little while. We think things will be fine, but we appreciate prayers sent our way nonetheless. She has shown a new courage and fortitude since this all began. She surprises me every day with her ability to take it all. 

I wonder if people realize they have such strong ideas about cancer before it taps them on the shoulder. We interact with it so frequently in forms of billboards and fundraisers, but those don't mean as much until you realize you've somehow joined the cancer club. 

Pardon my lightness. It's just comforting to think sometimes that cancer isn't something you can entirely avoid. EVERYONE should be screened, of course: colonoscopies, mammograms, whatever it takes to be on the defensive, do it. 

But outside of those things, and maybe smoking, cancer isn't exactly something you get because you were too unhealthy. Modern medicine may reveal otherwise eventually, but for now, it's simply: my mom has colon cancer and we fight it. There aren't any what-ifs.

So far, the fight is going well. When she completed her radiation treatment, the doctors gave her a certificate of completion and a bottle of sparkling cider to celebrate. 

She says that aside from her own birth and giving birth to my brother and me, it's the only certificate she's ever earned. I, for one, though, am very proud of her involvement in each one. 

I'm Ready! I'm Ready?

I'm writing this post because I feel like writing a post, which actually means I feel like doing everything.

I'm ready to do market research for a startup. I'm ready to scrub the baseboards. I'm ready to make posters. I'm ready to finish off my freelance job. I'm ready to write about everything in my head. I'm ready to sew dresses. I'm ready to cook dinner. I'm ready to read real books. I'm ready to make schedules and plans and nail them all.

Or at least I was an hour ago when I planned out this post in my head. Then I got hungry and frustrated with the library catalog. And my heightened sense of self-worth and ability came down just a notch. That's better than yesterday when it crashed altogether. When that happened, I did things that needed to be done, but inwardly hated it.

My desire to change my world is finicky like that, like an old dog raring to catch a ball who realizes there's not enough reward and its legs are too tired already. Every day is a little bit different. Sometimes I can settle on just one thing to do, maybe it's useful, maybe it's not. Other times I want to do everything and wind up do nothing for lack of decision. And there are definitely days in which I will not and cannot do anything other than the barest of minimums.

But some days I feel like doing everything and I do. I clean, cook, create, cultivate, and conquer, even all before noon occasionally. The troubling part is that when I don't, I stop believing I ever did. I might do all on a Tuesday, but by Wednesday, I'm convinced that I am a lazy, no good person. I'm making slow progress in rejecting that belief on my non-doing days.

But one thing is becoming clear: the doing days will return. No matter how little I feel like doing on any given day, the desire to do more will come back. It may take a day or two, but either way it won't show up again because I told my non-doing self that I was lazily and pathetically wasting away. My self-talk can be as negative as it wants, but it can't bring back the drive.

So, I'm learning to trust, cozy up on the couch, and patiently enjoy watching Psych until the readiness returns and I successfully go and do, because I know I will.


As a side note, I can't use the word ready in any context without thinking about SpongeBob. Does anyone else suffer from this same problem?  

Halloween: The New Happy Holiday

This Halloween holiday keeps growing on me more every year.

(Let's think about that statement literally for a second . . . Great Halloween costume? Possibly.)

I don't do scary, but I'm finding ways of making this season my own. Last Saturday, we threw my idea of a perfect Halloween party. The elements? Good food and great television. Yes, folks. We watched all the scary episodes of Psych and, as tradition demands, my favorite scary episode of Boy Meets World. It's a winning combination.

In case you need your own lineup for tonight, here are the Psych episodes that made my list. (You might notice the absence of "Scary Sherry" and "Tuesday the 17th." Confession: they're too scary for me. Don't judge.)

• 2:16 Shawn (and Gus) of the Dead
• 3:1 Ghosts
• 4:8 Let's Get Hairy
• 5:11 In Plain Fright
• 6:3 This Episode Sucks
• 6:11 Heeeeere's Lassie
• 6:14 Autopsy Turvy

And as for the good food, I made these caramel apples after I sanded the apples down with actual sandpaper. Turns out, this is key to a great caramel apple.

If there's time tonight, we'll also be celebrating with a batch of these soft pretzels.

And since it's also Throwback Thursday, here we are two years ago. Beauty and the Banana.

My New Job in the Most Beautiful Box

Circles, fountains, and stairways to heaven. That's what I saw the first time I entered the Tanner Building on BYU's campus seven years ago. Though I'd grown up nearby, that trip to campus was the first real one. I was a high school senior and a tumultuous one at that.

That day was to be one of my first deep descents in the valley of decision making. It's not a place I thrive in and certainly not one I like to visit. There were small forays before and there were worse visits after, but this was the first time it really, really mattered.

I was trying to decide where to go to college, and the factors I'd considered previously were falling apart. So I made a choice based on feelings and architecture. I fell in love with the Tanner Building and the Joseph F. Smith Building. They're boxy and bold. I decided to study whatever was in those buildings, but I ended up spending all my time as a student in the JFSB.

Now, it's the Tanner's turn.

I'm still not sure what it is about this building that gets to me.

This time though, it will be a more professional association, rather than an educational one.

It's hard to see, but these trees outside my office are stunning.

Consider this the official announcement of the end of unemployment. I am now the assistant editor of Marriott Alumni Magazine. In the near future, my writing and editing will be appearing here and here.

In short, I'm as head over heels about this job as the building it's housed in. Times fourteen. And a little bit.