growing pains.

Dear Mom, 

I've neglected you, and I'm sorry. It's just that life's been well.. hard and busy. Really, really busy. 

Remember when I was twelve and I would beg you to let me shave my legs and you wouldn't let me? You would tell me that I would have the rest of my life to shave my legs and eventually I would hate it. Well, you were right. I hate it. 

I know deep down it was because you were trying to preserve the little bit of childhood I had left, but it was so difficult for me to understand. I had this overwhelming desire to grow up a little faster. I just want you to know that I appreciate your thoughtfulness now. Life has somehow gotten in the way of the little things and neglecting to write to you is one of those things. Being a grown up is not as much fun as I always thought it would be.

I can't promise I'll get better at writing, because to be quite honest I haven't had a lot of extra time lying around lately. I do want you to know that I miss it though. In my mind I create letters, and I know you get those too, but it's just not the same. 

Until next time, when I find an extra few minutes, I want you to know that I love you and I appreciate every ounce of childhood you tried to keep in me. 

Your daughter, 

Deborah 

lump.

Dear Mom, 

About a week ago I found a lump and went to the doctors to have it checked out. I had a suspicion that I shouldn't be all that worried, but I didn't want to just write it off either. The doctor didn't seem all that concerned about it, but he sent me for a mammogram and an ultrasound anyway. He explained that it was probably fibroid tissue, but given our family history, he wanted to have me sent over anyway. 

Of course I've made myself sick with worry, even though the doctor explained that it was probably nothing.  Everyone else I told about the tests, offered the same condolence, but I don't think anything could change how worried I will be every time I go in for one of these tests. Aside from my fear of cancer, I've always feared the dreaded mammogram. People always talk about how awful they are and how much it hurts, so I wasn't exactly excited to go in and get squished. 

Today I went for tests and it was a wonderful experience. Wonderful, because the doctor was right. I have fibroid cysts and dense tissue that are probably just now showing up due to age or birth control. The ultrasound tech was really nice and talked me through the whole thing. She showed me the "lump" on the screen and what it looked like, then showed me what it would look like if it was a mass or a tumor. She reassured me that I did the right thing by coming in and didn't make me feel like I was paranoid for being worried about it. 

The mammogram itself wasn't painful at all. Obviously it wasn't the most comfortable experience I have ever had, but I wouldn't label it dreadful nor would I tell anyone that it hurt. 

When the radiology physician came in we discussed your history and we even talked about genetic testing, an option several OB's have shoved down my throat when they find out about your history. She explained that you wouldn't even have known what genetic testing was, since you passed away just a few years before it became the new thing. Had it been around, you could have had it done so that it could be determined if your type of cancer was genetic or not. Otherwise, she explained, that even if I tested positive all that would determine is that they would take a more radical approach to my testing cycle, which they are going to do anyway, given your history.

I think the best part about the whole experience is that the doctor was patient and understanding. She listened to me and didn't write off my concerns. She didn't suggest I have genetic testing, instead she explained more what it is and why it's recommended in some situations. She showed me right away that the tissue was nothing to be worried about, but that I shouldn't write off any future changes as fibroid tissue or cysts. 

I am amazed at how much has changed since you've passed away. Each day not only do they get closer to finding a cure, but people are becoming more educated and testing options are getting easier and more accurate. 

I am so relieved that it is nothing, but I am so thankful to have had the experience. 

I love you, Mom. 

Your Daughter, 

Deborah 

Cooking.

Dear Mom, 

About two weeks ago some of our family came down to visit our new place. Then we drove over to hang out with some of our family from Cleveland and naturally we began to talk about you. They were sharing stories of when we would all come down to Cleveland for Easter every year and before I knew it every one was jumping in with memories and funny stories. 

I loved sitting back listening, as it was interesting to see you through a veil of other peoples memories. I never realized how many different impressions we can leave on people when they base our entire existence and personality on one moment or memory they may have shared with us. From that moment on that is the veil through which they will see you and when you pass away the story will be passed on. 

Makes me want to be more careful about what I say and how I act, especially now that who we are is so accessible through blogs, twitter and facebook. People begin to think that we are what we type and that one tweet mistake we wrote begins to define us forever. It's kind of scary. 

Anyway, where I was going with this was that it made me realize two consistent things you will forever be known for. Two things that everyone at the party agreed upon: 

1. You were a crazy [fast] driver. 

2. You were a horrible cook. 

I laugh at number one, because I can't imagine thinking of you as being crazy at anything, but as your memories serve you I guess you did have a little bit of a wild side. The second thing I have always known, because growing up I considered hamburger helper as gourmet. You never had any interest in cooking, therefore you never became great at it. You were the kind of person who could do anything you set your mind to, but cooking never interested you. People would often joke of your ability to "burn water" and for every holiday, even Christmas, it was requested you bring a taco salad because it was the only thing you could make well. 

This is the one area where I have been determined to be absolutely nothing like you and cooking has become something that I love. In college I realized quickly that no one had ever shown me how to cook, especially when I  was eating Ramen Noodles every night and my roommate was downstairs making some sort of casserole or pot roast out of the cookbooks she had brought with her to college. I had never even owned a cookbook. 

Long story shortened, I bought a cookbook when Brian and I got engaged. I started experimenting at home during the summer and by the time we were married I understood the basics. Now that I have nothing else to do I am baking 2-3 times a week and am constantly reading blogs to find something new to make for dinner. I'm not all the great at it and I could never be a chef. I don't do it because I feel obligated, but because I truly love it. 

I'm not sure what I'll be known for when I die, but I'm hoping they won't say that I was a horrible cook. 

As for the crazy driver part? I'm not sure. I've developed quite a bit of road rage down here in Ohio since everyone likes to drive 35 mph, no matter the speed limit. No promises on that one.

I love you, mom.  

Your Daughter, 

Deborah 

When I grow up..

Dear Mom, 

When you were younger were you one of those kids who knew what you wanted to do when you grew up?

I'm totally not one of those people, never have been. I'm so envious of people who have those kinds of dreams and they just make them happen. I don't have any problem trying to make the dream happen, I just don't have the specific dream. 

I've tried writing, and it's not really something I would be good enough to do as a career. It's a hobby. I'm good with kids, but I think I lack the patience as a teacher. The sight of blood makes me weak, therefore the medical field is mostly out of the question. I can't play an instrument and my voice is so awful I swear people strategically choose not to sit next to us at church. 

I feel awful that I'm already done with college, yet I still don't know what I want to do. I know we've had this talk before, but I'm just in awe of people who have known what they we're meant to do since they were kids. 

I'm getting impatient and our finances are becoming stressful. We have to strategically figure out where each dollar goes so that way we can continue to pay on our student loans at a reasonable rate. 

I'm sorry I'm whiney, I just am having one of those moments. 

I love you, mom. 

Your Daughter, 

Deborah 

Stewart's Caring Place

Dear Mom, 

While you were sick I often wondered if you felt alone. I wondered if when you talked to your friends if it felt like there was something missing, because they couldn't relate to what you were going through. Sure, we all tried. Some even shaved their heads to help fill the void you may have been feeling. 

I wonder though, in those quiet moments before bed if you yearned to have someone say "I know exactly what you are going through!"

When we moved to Ohio, a friend tole me about Stewart's Caring Place and I knew right away that I had to get involved. Stewart's is a place for people who have cancer that can help them feel a little less alone. It's a place I know you would have loved, which is why I knew I had to volunteer. 

At Stewart's cancer patients can come and take Yoga, go to counseling sessions, take art classes, receive financial advice, get wigs, visit their resource library, get massages and physical therapy treatments and so much more.. it's a beautiful escape from the white halls of a hospital building and it is all FREE! 

It's truly an amazing place and I am in awe of the work that everyone behind the scenes has done to make it all possible. It all started with a conversation around a coffee table when a need was recognized and it has grown into this beautiful resource and caring facility for people who need support during their journey. I feel so honored to work alongside such beautiful people.

Every day I am amazed at how I am able to use your journey to inspire others and even inspire myself. Just when I think that I'm not going to make it through another interview or that financially we are going to fall on our faces, I remember what you did and how you battled a horrible, vile and devastating illness. 

Even if you ever felt alone, I want you to know that you weren't. I tried the best I could to carry the burden with you, and today I am still carrying your story with me, in hope that together, we can make a difference. 

I love you, Mom. 

Your Daughter, 

Deborah 

On Grandma.

Dear Mom, 

Being away from home wasn't hard, until today. 

I say that because today I called home to talk to Grammy. She is just recently home from a rehab center where she spent the past two months living and she is having a hard time with the transition back home. It was good for her and physically she is getting a lot better in that way, but mentally, she has started to regress. 

Our conversation went a bit like this: 

me: Hey Grandma, how you doing?

grammy: Deborah? Oh, hi dear. I'm good. 

me: How are you feeling?

grammy: I'm feeling fine. I can't understand why you haven't come to visit me?

me: Grammy, I moved to Ohio, remember?

grammy: oh, well.. I better go, I'm tired. 

me: Ok Grammy.. I love you.. 

grammy: Remember, always, grammy loves you. 

----

It was heartbreaking for two reasons. The first being she had no memory what so ever that I had moved and when she realized this, she wanted to forget the fact that she couldn't remember. She was so eager to hang up the phone. Two, she always tells me to remember that she loves me and it broke my heart that I can't be there for her. 

Since she has been home everyone has been taking turns spending the night with her and I can't be there to do that. I feel guilty for leaving when she has always been there for me. I feel awful that I can't be helpful. Most importantly, I feel sad that slowly she will only be able to remember fewer and fewer things about me, when she is (next to you) my favorite thing to talk about. 

Today, my heart yearns for Michigan. I yearn for the afghan that is draped over her couch that she would cover me up with when I was sick. I miss the feel of her cold hands when she wraps them in mine and encourages me that everything will be okay and that 'this too shall pass.' I miss her telling me how awful my hair looks every time I get it cut and that she can no longer harass me asking, "Are those another new pair of shoes?"

I miss Michigan. I miss Grammy. I miss you. 

Your Daughter, 

Deborah 

Changing Memories: Mackinac Island

Dear Mom, 

Last weekend marked my one year wedding anniversary. To celebrate, we took a trip up north in Mackinaw City, Michigan. I had only been to Mackinac Island once and the memories I have are horrible. 

I know it seems taboo for a child to share with others that they were disappointed in their parents, especially after they have passed away. I'm sure if you were still alive I would muster up the confidence to share my feelings with you in relation to this trip. 

When I was about 8 or 9 you dropped me off with some family friends to go up to Mackinaw Island for a four day weekend. It was mid-July and we had just gotten back from a weekend away on the boat at Crystal Bay and I had gotten some major sun. Anyone who has ever known me knows that my skin is the brightest shade of white that skin comes in and the only way I am able to achieve "color" is when all of my freckles pop out at the beginning of the summer. 

That weekend I must not have listened very well at your request to constantly apply the sunscreen, because by the time you dropped me off  for my Mackinaw getaway, I had mountain sized blisters popping off the tops of my shoulders. They were painful and red and I could barely sit in a car comfortably, let alone lie down in bed. 

I shudder at the thought that you dropped me off anyway. Of course you stopped at a drugstore and picked up some Aloe or something like that, but your husband had you on a time schedule of when you needed to get back to head off on your next get away. I was afraid to tell you of how much pain I was in, for fear that you wouldn't get to go have fun on your vacation. I was also afraid of missing out on Mackinac Island.

I think that your motherly instinct was telling you otherwise, but you left me anyway. 

That's the only time in my childhood that I can think of that you disappointed me. That whole weekend I was miserable and finally our family friend called in a prescription for me so that I could experience some relief. By the end of the weekend I was fine, but I definitely didn't enjoy my stay at the island. 

I say all this to say, this trip up there was much better and we had a lot of fun. For some strange reason it brought some closure to the last time I was up there, because some of the places looked familiar. It made me realize that the memory is probably more painful than the actual experience. I can finally associate Mackinac Island with good memories. 

Know that I don't hold it against you. One painful memory in sixteen years really isn't all that bad and I am sure I disappointed you all the same. 

Here are some pictures from our trip! 

This was the view from our campsite 

We did some Geocaching on the Island

Wish you were here. 

Your Daughter, 

Deborah