cancer clients

A few weeks ago, in a fit of charity, I signed up to give some free massages to women who have cancer.

I'm not going to pretend like I am some really great person because I will admit right off the bat that yesterday afternoon came around and it was time for me to go give the massages and I did NOT want to do it. I would have much rather stayed home and taken a nap.

But every now and then I have to actually do some of the things that I preach about and walk the walk so that I don't feel like a total hypocrite.

For example, I often think about how much of a better place it would be if we all stopped and took five minutes to clean up the litter in our neighborhood. But how often do I do that?

I want to live in a world where people are good and loving and help others. We all do. But for that world to exist that means that we have to step up and do those things.

That was the pep talk I gave myself to get me out the door and into the massage room.

Of course, once I am there the power of what is going on just takes over. Sort of like how it takes a lot of motivation to get yourself to exercise but once you are exercising it goes just fine.

I had two clients yesterday. And I never know what I am going to get. They can be almost totally healthy. They can be horribly sick. Yesterday I had one of each.

My first client was pretty healthy despite having breast cancer and having ongoing radiation treatments (that really burnt her breast two weeks ago) and she had a big knot in her shoulder that she was asking me about. She wanted to know how it gets there. I explained some of the causes- repetitive motion, bad posture, sleeping on your side or stomach, carrying heavy things, the cold weather. And then I said that a major one was simply stress. She replied that she didn't have any stress in her life.

I laughed and said that you don't usually hear someone who is dealing with all this cancer stuff say that they don't have any stress! She responded that apart from the radiation and losing her hair to chemo that this has been like a nine month vacation for her! She has volunteered, she ate out a lot, went on retreats, etc. She is going back to work next week. She said that you just have to make up your mind that you are going to beat the cancer and then do it.

My second client had to have both breasts removed and now the cancer has metastized (sp?) to her liver. She has a huge goiter looking thing coming out of her stomach. I had to help her onto the table, I had to help her get dressed afterwards. Just not even being able to put on your own socks and shoes? Can you imagine?

There is already so much that I don't take for granted. It is something that I constantly work on. But there is always more! I don't take for granted my ability to run and play soccer- I am super thankful for that. But yes, I did take my ability to put on my own socks for granted!

I took my ability to lay face down without getting vertigo for granted.

I took having hair for granted.

I took having boobs for granted.

I took my ability to stand up from a seated position for granted.

So just want to give a big shout out to the Universe and say thanks for all I have. You rock!

that's the way the kitchen crumbles...

Construction is starting on our house on Monday. The first thing to get worked on will be the kitchen and blue bathroom. That means that I had to COMPLETELY clear out the kitchen.

When you regularly visit my house, your first thought is not, "These people are hoarders!" (Your first thought is PROBABLY, "These people really like books!") But while we may not be hoarders, what we are is packers.

We have the ability to cram an amazing amount of stuff into these cabinets and shelves. Wow. I'm looking at this stuff spread throughout the dining room and living room and I'm thinking, "How did this ever all fit in the kitchen??"

And while I only need a tiny fraction of what we have... there are times when we do use the other things. That's the thing... right now there is just me living in this apartment... but we regularly have 22 people staying in this house! And we aren't about to say, "Sure you can come visit, but you have to bring your own bedding, towels, plates, bowls, glasses and silverware." And thus, we have a TON of stuff in this house.

advantages of having disadvantages

Do you know what the best part about being broke and not having any sort of serious power or influence?

You know that when people love you and are your friends that they love you for you!

puddle jumping

I'm used to having to jump over puddles at the corners when I am walking in Chicago after a big storm... but this is ridiculous!!!

and introducing... (drumroll please!)

I think it's time to introduce my boyfriend Michael to my blog readers. I'm still not going to do anything crazy like update my facebook status, but after six months of dating (how has it possibly already been six months?!?) I think he deserves a little shout out.

But what to say about my Michael? I call him "my Michael" so as not to get him confused with my brother Michael or any of the eight thousand other Michaels in my life.

Met him on Match.com. He lied and told his mom we met a different way. Nice.

He is nothing like I ever thought I would want to date... a red-headed, Grateful Dead lover... but he is pretty damn awesome. Just goes to show that I know nothing.

He makes a mean goose. (As opposed to making a goose mean and angry) Best chef in the entire world. I was pretty much hooked after one bite.

It's weird, there are a million things I could say about him, but I find that I don't want to. I want to keep it to myself and savor it.

He has gotten me to love beer. I adore Guinness.

And he still hasn't written me a song though I've dropped hints (you know me, so subtle) all the time. (For example, he might just be reading this right now, hint, hint!)

There are a million things that I could say but I think the most important/ biggest compliment is this... He doesn't annoy me. He makes me laugh. And oh my god, the food!

So that's my Michael in a nutshell. Just felt like I needed to at least mention him on here.

no going back

Do you ever have something change in your life and realize that there is no going back?

I used to just get massages and relax and enjoy them. Now I (and other massage therapists that I have talked to about it) have a hard time shutting my mind off during a massage. I am constantly thinking, "What is she doing? Is that her elbow or her thumb? How is she positioned to do that because it feels really good? I need to remember to try that with my client. Etc..."

Don't get me wrong, I still love getting massages and I relax deeply, but I come at them differently.

Lately I've noticed a similar change happening... I've become a writer. As such, I now no longer read books as a reader, I read them as a writer.

I no longer just read the story and enjoy the plot twists and pretty descriptions. I think to myself, "I like how she used that character's personal dilemma to further the overall problem with the plot." Or "It was really clever how she made Portia be the cook at Mick's house and Portia's brother be the chef at the restaurant, which ties Mick back to the restaurant."

I notice the craft of novels and the devices and techniques. It makes me appreciate the authors and what they do a lot more. However, it does take me out of the moment a little because it makes me think about the author, about the person sitting down and writing rather than getting caught up in the story and forgetting that it is not true and that someone made the whole thing up.

It certainly doesn't ruin novels for me, just changes them. Makes me appreciate them in different ways. And hopefully makes me better, in turn, as a writer myself.

Wooden Bowls

Rather than come up with my own post today I am going to copy a little story that I saw in a random newsletter that came to my house...

A frail old man lived with his son, daughter-in-law and four year old grandson. His eyes were blurry, his hands trembled and his step faltered.

The family would eat together nightly at the dinner table. But, the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and failing sight made eating rather difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon, dropping to the floor. When he grasped his drink, it often spilled clumsily on the tablecloth.

With this happening almost every night, the son and daughter-in-law became irritated with the mess.

"We must do something about grandfather," said the son.

"I've had enough of his drink spilling, noisy eating and food on the floor," the wife agreed.

So the couple set a small table in the corner.

There, grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family enjoyed their at the main table. Since grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food was served in wooden bowls. Sometimes, when the family glanced in grandfather's direction, he had a tear in his eye as he ate alone. Still, the only words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a fork or spilled food. The four year old watching it all in silence.

One evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wooden scraps on the floor. He asked his child sweetly, "What are you making?" Just as sweetly, the boy replied, "Oh, I am making a little bowl for you and mama to eat your food from when I grow up." The four year old smiled and went back to work.

These words so struck the parents that they were speechless. Then tears streamed down their cheeks. Though no words were spoken, both knew what must be done. That evening, the husband took grandfather's hand and led him back to the family table.

For the remainder of his days, grandfather ate every mean with the family. And for some reason, neither husband nor wife seemed to care about a dropped fork, spilled food or a soiled tablecloth.