More foto fun

All worky on this northern front, so not much to say. So...look! A foto!


Here's one of my favorite photos of me and my dad.

Banner/Update/Looking Forward to Weekend

So, now I really realize you must all be reading through Google Reader. I changed my banner! No one noticed! The entry was related somewhat to the banner, in case you were wondering if I'd gone off the deep end.

No, really, we are going to make some aesthetic changes over here in willikatland, but William had made this joke banner for me, but I thought we'd put it up for the time being.

Today was a long day of work, and then some nice time with some friends, but I have a ton coming up in the next couple of days and a lot to do, so I must keep this entry short (again).

Dad is recovering, but is experiencing some swelling and pain. Poor Daddy. I hope he starts to feel better soon, because I know how long days feel when you're in pain or sick. It's not fair, and I hate to see him feeling icky.

It's been very dark and rainy and cold and rather depressing, weather-wise, around these parts lately. Bright spots:

Weekend soon!
Catching up with some good friends Friday night...friends from my first job out of college, and we've all managed to stay in pretty good touch. It's amazing to see how we've grown and changed, even in the last five years, and we always have a good time together. I'm looking forward to some laughs, drinks, and snacks with my Lillie friends.

Saturday, dance class, hopefully lots of sleep, hanging with William, and then Girls' Night--we're trying to do some recurring nights to get together to just make sure we're spending time together. Tomorrow night's theme: a throwback to the old days, come in PJs, fondue, girl talk. Looking forward to that too.

Sunday, glorious Sunday...I'm sleeping in. After that, who knows. Ahhhh, an open day. Heaven.

Belated Boo

Dad's home! Yay! He's already gotten more rest, so he's looking better by the day now. Thanks for your good thoughts and wishes as we proceed through the recovery process.

I'm still missing a lot of you...

Not much else to report today. Have to get up early tomorrow, so....

Look, pictures! Halloween, 'member that? Here's a couple shots my coworker took.

Landslide and other random news

When the Smashing Pumpkins covered Landslide, I thought, "Why? Why that song?" And when the Dixie Chicks covered it, I was all like "What is UP with that song?"

And now when I hear Stevie Nicks sing it (who does it best, in my mind), I often cry. There are still parts I'm taking apart and thinking about, things that don't apply, but I guess I'm just of an age that a lot of it resonates with me. That's part of why I love rock and roll.

i took my love, i took it down
climbed a mountain and i turned around
and i saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
'til the landslide brought it down
oh, mirror in the sky
-what is love?
-can the child within my heart rise above?
-can i sail thru the changin' ocean tides?
-can i handle the seasons of my life?
i don't know.....
well, i've been afraid of changin'
'cause i've built my life around you
but time makes you bolder
even children get older
and i'm getting older too
oh, take my love, take it down
climb a mountain and turn around
-and if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
well the landslide will bring it down
-and if you see my reflection in the snow covered hills
well the landslide will bring it down
the landslide will bring it down

I didn't think of it as an option for my dance song with my dad, but I sort of wish it had occurred to me. Only I probably would have bawled, so it's probably a good thing I didn't and stuck with Iz singing "What a Wonderful World/Over the Rainbow".

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Dad could be coming home tomorrow! This is great news. He's up walking and looking much better.

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Today felt really long. I think I'm emotionally cashed. And I usually sleep like a rock but it's not been great the last week. Some things that made me laugh: a funny somee-card from Fatty, co-workers' jokes, William and Molly. There was also a great interactive game for REM fans where you had to guess the song really fast...I landed in the Top 50 the first time I played! Also, yummy meatloaf for dinner.

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Totally stolen from JQ Lounge, but too good not to talk about: Hollywood's Sexy Ugly Men. A few of them have topped my list at one time or another: Benicio, Clive, even Steve Carrell (funny wins!). But I feel I should say that Daniel Craig has never done anything for me.

All Hospital

This weekend has been fairly consumed with walking down the halls to 2L, the wing where my dad is staying. He's sharing a four-person room with just one other person right now, so that's a welcome relief. Still, he hasn't slept, or at least he thinks he hasn't. He is coming out of a post-morphine haze, and I think we've turned a corner. *knock on wood*

Things are getting better. I'm really exhausted.

All hospital, not much play. William and I did head to one of our favorite activities, an art crawl, for a couple of hours yesterday. I wish we could have spent more time there. Hopefully things will start to ease now and we can go back to feeling normal and feeling healthy!

Sorry again for such a short post. Life is moving pretty quickly over here and I'm trying to keep up.

Sicko

It's been a long few days.

I want to respect my dad's privacy, but suffice it to say that we have had a few bumps along the way to recovery...including the need for a blood transfusion, lots of medication, and something called superventricular tachycardia, which would be really fun to say if it didn't mean something rather icky—really high heartbeat rates that just aren't good for anyone.

He seems perkier tonight, but he has been feeling pretty yucko. which in turn leaves me feeling pretty yucko, too.

We continue progress toward recovery, but it's a little slower than we'd all like. Your continued good thoughts and encouragement would really help!

My exhaustion continues, so I'm needing to keep this short. More posts to come tomorrow.

Happy Surgiversary

Two posts, one day! Will wonders never cease?

I haven't blogged about a very important anniversary that took place just three or so weeks ago.

Two years and three-ish weeks ago, I was still living at home. I came home from work to find to my dad on the phone, looking very concerned. I was on my way out of town, and sort of in a rush, but I had a feeling, that kind of thing that stops you in your tracks. I get this feeling occasionally, sometimes and it's wrong, but this time I was right.

My dad hung up the phone and told my mom and I that he had lung cancer. I almost can't describe what happened to me next. I felt like someone took my stomach and turned it inside out and brought it through my throat and squeezed the oxygen out of me. My knees felt weak. I came uncorked. Suddenly and instantly, the three of us (and more, once the news had spread) had a new wound, nerves exposed, something that would eventually scar with time, but never disappear—most literally, my dad's.

My dad quit smoking that day. He had to detoxify before they took half of his lung, two weeks from then.

I went to William's house, mostly because my mom told me to still go, and we left the next morning for our weekend trip. I cried. That's an understatement. I cry a lot. It's easy to make me cry. If I'm mad I cry. If I'm sad, I cry. I cry if I hear happy news or I get a nice gift. I cry at fictional movies, talking animals, Pedigree commercials, the national anthem, and even sometimes when reality TV people win awards. But this cry was so different. I could not stop. Completely unhinged. I barely knew his parents at that point (he was also living at home). I know I must have looked a hot mess. I acted, I hoped, like nothing was wrong. Clearly, something was wrong.

Then I went into his bedroom, and I sobbed. We had to run an errand to the bookstore. He told me I could stay there but I thought I'd stop if we went somewhere public. Nope. I cried through the bookstore looking completely insane. Then we went back to his house. I sobbed on his bed until I passed out. It took a long time. I managed to chap my face.

William was my rock during that time, he really was. I learned I could trust him with my emotions and that he loved me no matter the news. William allowed me to cry in his arms and then celebrated the victories that came our way as my dad underwent his surgery and recovery.

Eventually, I determined that I would not carry on this way. I couldn't. I had to keep going, despite the fact that I felt like I was wading through cement. I decided that I wouldn't mourn the situation—and more importantly, my dad. He was alive and had gotten the best possible news when you hear you have cancer. That it's contained, that it can be taken out, and that you may not even need radiation or chemo.

One thing that helped was the fortitude of my friends. Kilipino told me how my dad was a superhero, Superman, and that he would fight off the evil forces of cancer. She would carry on with it until I laughed, sending me emails midday at work, knowing full well I was sitting at my desk, eating my lunch, trying not to be morose. She brought my dad a gigantic mylar Superman balloon, which still resides in my parents' front closet, deflated but standing watch. My friend A. would send me emails—we could commiserate, as her mom had been diagnosed with a different kind—and I felt she really knew how it felt, which is really important when you are facing such a trial. There were also many other people who contributed thoughts, prayers, well wishes, and kindnesses during this time. To be honest, I was sometimes numb, lost in my head, and I hope I have acknowledged them all at some point.

I moved in with William in April, two years ago. Probably, actually, this week two years ago. So that's an anniversary in itself. But in 2006, spring turned to summer turned to fall. My dad managed to get away with no chemo or radiation, just a very painful and slow-healing surgery. He definitely has the strength of Superman. Truly.

Today, I was out for a walk with William and Mo—it was gorgeous here today and so we walked down by the mighty Mississip—and my mom called. It was loud where I was, so I let it go to voicemail, planning to call her back in about 15 minutes. She said, in her somewhat neutral voice, "I have some news, so could you call me back?" I knew that my dad had had a check-up scan a couple of weeks ago; he'd told me about it. I had been worrying, of course, as I always do, in this lopsided way of mine. I'd put it out of my mind. Then I'd start worrying about possibilities and when we'd hear results. Then I'd quickly shut off the worrying by saying to myself that he was FINE and only positive thoughts were allowed. No worrying. Only reinforcing.

I called my mom back, forgetting about the wind and traffic. He got his letter. There have been no changes in his scans. No cancer growths, no weird spots or darknesses or blurry areas. Unchanged. Unchanged as when he left the hospital two years ago, when cancer had been forcibly removed from his chest, open from chest to back, all the way around his shoulder blade, a scar like the trip around Cape Horn on a map. I was about two blocks from home as my mom told me this, and just like that first day when cancer became a household term for us, tears, uncontrolled, streaming down my face. William held out his hand, first thumbs-up, then thumbs down, with an inquiring look on his face, as my face and my words were not exactly matching.

I had celebrated silently a couple of weeks ago when my dad's surgiversary came up, when the doctor had told us he could be hunting and fishing still twenty years from now. But I had held my breath because I knew he had another check-up scan coming soon.

Thumbs up. My dad is healthy. Two years running. Hawaii, here we come.