Ironies

I've never really been able to define irony, I'm not sure it is definable? But these are my ironies since I last wrote.
I did the run. Slow & steady, felt amazing, very proud. Until I went for a massage later on that day & the massage lady said 'Oh! You pregnant?!'.
Some satisfaction gained from answering 'No, just fat'. But not enough.
An awkward moment last night when we met some friends at a kid friendly pub. Had a lovely evening, ran into several people I hadn't seen in ages. Including a girl I once pashed at 3 am one late 90's night. She has grown her once shaved head out to a discreet bob & has a male partner & child in tow and of course there is me, suzy homemaker with my tribe of love. We made a bit of small talk but essentially it was super awkward. Good to have been young once.
Finally, no irony here, just a bit too much red wine and a heavy heart. Donno is too sick. He will die. Soon. My heart, my head, my eyes hurt to know it. This familiar journey, wanting someone you love to be out of pain but knowing what the other side holds. A big old empty space where he should be. A life, a family, so many occasions that he should be in. It is shit. A thrumming of pain, worry, nervous energy. Oh to have the chance to tell him how much he means to me, to us. I'm so scared of how hard it's going to be to miss him.

A Good Run

Here we go again. Tomorrow morning, a Sunday, I will be joining 100s of others in the Darwin City to Surf. At 7.20am the starter pistol will sound and we will set off on our 12.7km journey.
It's my first ever running race. I hesitate to use the word running, as I am more of a slow jogger, but apparently if you're a serious runner - eg you run at least once a week, for a few kilometres or more, you call it running, despite how fast, or slow as the case may be, you go.
Once I was running around an oval while my older brother played with the kids nearby. I felt really good, like I was such a good example, such a great role model. When we walked home later I asked my 5 year old what he thought - 'Did I look fit?' he responded by saying 'You looked hot' (lets clarify that being the hot hot, not the your so good looking I can't believe your my Mum hot). I tried again 'Yes, but did I look strong?' 'You looked sweaty' he replied. I'm a sucker for punishment, so again I asked 'Did I look fast?'. 'You looked a bit fat' he said.
And that is why sometimes I like my daughter best.
A year ago I would have struggled to run a kilometre without stopping. So I set myself a goal. Originally it was to run the 2.5km leg of the mini triathlon without stopping. I achieved it, slowly, thoughtfully, and felt a million bucks for it. The feeling of accomplishment was huge, I felt unstoppable. So I made a new goal, to run 5km, eventually in under 30 minutes. I've run alot of 5 km's since and have only broken the 30 minute mark a couple of times, but again - how good am I that I can actually do the things I say I will!? Since then the goal has changed a few times. There was talk of a girls trip to Dili in May to do the 1/2 marathon, but once we started training for it we soon realised we had probably bitten off more than we could chew. Another dream was the Bali Triathlon, to be held later this month, but again, finances & family got in the way :)
So now it's this. City to Surf, June 3, 2012. Since Donno (my stepDad) was diagnosed with leukemia in December I've had a deep worry in my heart. Initially I tried drinking and smoking my way through it, I really tried! But I would wake up each day and feel worse, tired, angry, sad. Suddenly that dreaded nicotine had a hold of me again and I craved it! Thankfully I kept the running up, sometimes just 3km, other times 6km, a few times a week. When I run it hurts. My legs, my lungs, my shoulders, my feet, my knees. Sounds great hey? But that pain was good because I could FEEL it physically. I could sweat it out.
So instead of numbing it, I was unleashing it.
So I stopped smoking around the beginning of January and can honestly say I will never smoke again. I feel like I've found my very own Jesus in the shape of a pair of (good) running shoes. I've run many Friday nights with a mum friend of mine, who puts her 3 kids to bed then heads out the door at 7.30pm. On a Friday! We started at 6k, worked our way up in 500m increments and here we are, running 12k in 90 minutes and it only took 20 weeks! I run some evenings with my dog (on a leash) and my 12kg toddler (in a pram). I like to call that multitasking. Often I run alone with my ipod blaring, sometimes it feels great, sometimes it feels shit. But when I'm finished I'm NEVER sorry that I went for that run. I'm always pleased, and a little bit proud.
I feel both parts terrified and excited for tomorrow. Frightened I'll stop, or quit, or won't finish. I certainly don't look like someone who can run 12.7km and I feel paranoid people will judge me. I thought runners were meant to be slim? Not this one. I'm excited at the thought of the people cheering me on, seeing the finish line, achieving another goal! And almost every step of it will be in honour of my wonderful Donno, who hasn't given up despite really shitty odds and a whole lot of sickness. But I'm saving a couple of those steps for me, just me, for actually doing it. I can hardly wait!

Bought to you by Cadburys

I've overindulged this Easter and I have a massive problem in that my freezer still has numerous chocolate eggs in it and I don't think I have it in me to throw them out. The thought of doing so makes me feel part way relieved but mostly uncomfortable. Wasteful. Sad. Which is a little bit the same as me eating them, so I'm kind of stuck. With my hand in the freezer, consistently, throughout the day. Spiralling high on chocolate then crashing down low, brimming with energy then feeling as though my limbs are wooden & I can barely move. Not to mention my thought processes, which are madcap and frenetic and then negative, unhappy, almost belligerent.

Ironically I am in the middle of reading 3 books on weight loss. I've been putting in some serious work running, swimming, walking, playing, even sexing and for the love of (chocolate) money I'm not losing any weight. So I borrowed 'Allan Carrs Easy Way to Lose Weight' from a friend, found 'What's Eating You' at the library and downloaded 'If I'm So Smart Why Can't I Lose Weight?' to my kindle.

So far I have learnt (learned?) that I need to eat less, not eat junk and drink more water.

Fuckin' A. Simple really.

So from here the plan is to pretty much eat as many of the eggs in the freezer as I can, as quickly as possible so they are GONE. Then I'll not be eating junk, will definitely be eating less & I drink heaps of water anyways.

And hopefully one of these days I will stop seeing my emotions as chocolate (and eating them), will not feel mildly panicked if my tummy is not bursting from fullness & will not burst into tears or scream abuse at my nearest & dearest if I happen to be hungry/starving/famished/ready to faint.

Maybe I'll just throw the fucking eggs out.

A monologue

I got a round of applause after sharing this with my creative writing class tonight and went home with what I can only describe as 'writers high'. Most of it is is actually based on reality & all happened this afternoon, but they didn't need to know that ;)

If I was Luke Skywalker I would use my life saver and chop my Mums head off. She keeps telling me it's called a Light Saber but what would she know, she doesn't understand Star Wars.

I was talking on the phone to Nanna today telling her about Colonel Grevious and Obi One Kenobi and Mum INTERRUPTED me and said I had to tell Nanna about other stuff, like school and the baby bird we found that nearly got died. Which is not even fair because I LOVE Star Wars and Nanna is very good at listening to me but then I started telling her about how our dog got it and bited it's wing and we yelled at her LET IT GO!

Then we put that naughty dog in the pool area and we wrapped the baby bird up into a towel. Mum said it was scared and we had to use quiet voices and if I sat down I could hold it. I put one hand underneath and another hand around the towel and Mum said whatever you do Don't Squeeze. I held it very gently near my chest and I could feel it's tiny heart beating real fast, it was very scared without it's Mum.

Then we put it down on the ground and left it for a while so it would feel better and we went upstairs because today we got Hot Cross Buns for afternoon tea and I got to have one with Strawberry Jam! It was so delicious.

Then we remembered that baby bird and we went downstairs to check it but it was gone! We couldn't believe it, Mum said it's Mummy must have found it and took it back to the nest.

Then we took that naughty dog for a walk and I rode my bike but now I am Very Angry because Mum makes me ride up that hill and I Hate It because it makes my legs hurt but she says I have to. And it makes me Very frustrated and Mum is Very annoying to me because she says do I think she does it to be mean? Or do I think she does it to make me stronger and better at bike riding? And I have to say the stronger one but actually I think she does it to be mean because I just hate that hill So Much.

So that's why if I was Luke Skywalker I would kill all the badguys with my life saver and I would chop Mum's head off so she would stop always telling me stuff I have to do. But it's okay, she wouldn't be died, she would just get a new head but this one wouldn't be so bossy.

Poetry

So I've been doing an adult night class every Monday evening for the past month in Creative Writing. We've covered short stories, script writing, descriptive writing and last night - poetry. I've enjoyed all of it - 3 hours duration each so I must be on the right (write) track. Heehee.

I've read out some of my work at each session , except the descriptive cause I ain't never been any good at that. But last night I must have read out at least 5 poems? I was loving it. I'm not sure the rest of the class was, but I felt good about it. So I'm gonna go with that flow and share some of them here :)

This is a Cinquain which is 5 lines, 22 syllables, distributed as 2,4,6,8,2.

the girl (2)

I used to be (4)

is in here somewhere, I (6)

remember her voice. she was so (8)

youthful (2)

the first & last line have to kind of relate. Try one! It's fun and almost therapeutic ;)

This is a Tetractys which is 5 lines of 20 syllables, distributed as 1,2,3,4,10.

I've done a 'double' which is 1,2,3,4,10,10,4,3,2,1

Mum (1)

I wish (2)

You weren't so (3)

angry and sad (4)

it's because I love you and I need you (10)

that I screech and scream and mess and call you (10)

one hundred times, (4)

every day, (3)

you're my (2)

world (1)

And finally the Etheree which is 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10. You can make it rhyme if you're real clever..

They (1)

Say that (2)

His blood is (3)

Sick and to fix (4)

Him they have to fill (5)

His body with poison (6)

So they will make him sicker (7)

Because we are not ready to (8)

Let him go. We love him too much so(9)

he will take the poison because of us. (10)

Heavy I know, but so therapeutic....

Short & Sweet

This is what I say it is...short & sweet.

I'm slightly consumed by The Hunger Games at the moment - a trilogy written by Suzanne Collins (ideally for teenagers) but like John Marsden before her, I cannot get my head out of this exciting, frightening, nail biting series. Makes for a few issues concerning parenting and housework but I'm managing.

I'm finding an ally in red wine. It doesn't have any connotations other than a relaxing vibe. No smoking, no restlessness, no rage, just mellow. Quite the friend at dinnertime especially when my son is pulling out all the rude behaviours he has in his arsenal, winding his Dad up completely. I'm alternating between deep breaths and deep gulps and feeling quite relaxed about the whole thing.

Donno is no better. The chemo is doing horrible things to him and I get the feeling some days he wishes he were dead rather than living through this torture. Hard to hear about but so much worse to live through - my heart breaks for him and Mum, nothing I can do except sms them cheeky photos of my children and occasionally remind Donno to please avoid any white lights he may be drawn to.

If in doubt, make a bad joke.

Watching reality tv weight loss shows, finding them both inspiring and pathetic. One at me watching them and two at the folks who have let this happen to themselves. Josh hates them so much that he refuses to have them on (I totally understand his pain, but I just cant stop) so I've resorted to taking my glass of wine downstairs and watching them in the granny flat. Quite nice to have a little quiet time down there.

And then there is running. Me running. 7km every Friday night with a friend and another 5 -10 km at separate times through the week. It's wonderful. Don't think about it, just do it. I'm almost ready to call myself a runner now, it's all very inspiring. I'll save it for another blog.

So that wasn't so short. The only sweet part I have is in order to control my sweet cravings and tendency to impulse buy junk food I have taken to stocking my freezer with dark chocolate. So every night I grab 6 squares & allow it to completely hit the spot. Which is also does some days after lunch and occassionally about 3 pm, but this is a good thing because antioxidants are Important.

And now I'm off to begin 'Mockingjay' the third in this series of books that I want everyone to read and love as much as I do! The sad part is it will soon be over for me (I'll have this thing done & dusted by this time tomorrow - the joys of being a speed reader) but for YOU the adventure could be about to begin!

More of the same

An update for myself I suppose, and those of you who are interested enough and care enough to want to know how it's going.

It's going. 10 days into treatment and Donno's body is being poisoned by chemotherapy, he feels sick, is sick, we want him not to be sick. More than anything.

My mind wants to take me to bad places. Funerals, dying, sickness, sadness. Fotunately my daughter has taught me so much in her time here, mostly about not letting my head dwell on negativity, instead focussing on just breathing, just being. So I fight the urge to be dramatic and find solace in my children, my Josh, my self and my wonderful, strong and good extended family.

There is humour in much of it. Donno seems to think he is a consultant in his medical treatment, so knows everything he needs to and regularly makes suggestions to the Doctors regarding courses of action. He and Mum are having a new bathroom built on to their house and he is in daily contact with the builder, insisting upon photos of the work be emailed to him and talking to the builder at least once a day. Some days 3 times, but that's our Donno :)

Amidst the horror of the diagnosis comes some wonderful reminders of humanity. The bathroom builder is now only charging for materials, not labour. Heartfelt cards from friends and family arrive every day. Offers of help, accommodation, spare cars are being sent to all of us, the somewhat helpless relatives who want nothing but to be there, to help, to love.

I stopped praying many years ago, but lately have been tempted to take it up again. But that Donno is a man of science, so it probably wouldn't do him any good anyway ;). Instead I just hope for the best, breathe in and think good health, breathe out and send that awful disease away. We are going to hold on to that wonderful man with everything we have and cherish every moment left. And maybe pray to the universe to give us more time xo