A little over a week ago, I was talking to my sister on the phone on the way to work (hands free, no kid in the car), as we often do on the days we’re both commuting. We were discussing how annoying it is to spend 45 minutes to get ready and look presentable and how we both wish we could cut down that time. And I started to consider getting a haircut. A major, major haircut.
I spent my downtime that morning looking at various short haircuts and trying to decide just how drastic I wanted to go. By the end of that day I had made up my mind. I wanted it short. Like really, really, really short.
And so the next day I went and got a haircut. When I told the hairdresser what I wanted and showed her pictures she gave an involuntary “whoa” and then told me that while it was a pretty significant change that she felt I could pull it off. And as I’ve been told about a hundred times in the last week, apparently that is not true for everyone (which I’m not entirely sure I buy. But I’ve never been a great judge of style, so).
And 45 minutes later my hair went from this:
Neither of those pictures are from that actual day because I forgot to take a before picture and I didn’t like the way it was styled initially and needed a few days (okay, a week) to figure out the ways I could do it and liked it, but now that I’ve gotten to that point, I’m mostly happy. I can sometimes get away with second day hair, but only when I don’t care who sees me, because it’s definitely not the best. But I can go from wet hair to completely finished in 7 minutes flat, so honestly, it’s really not much of an inconvenience to have to do it every morning.
Eli has adjusted well, which was one of my worries since this was a huge change. When I walked in after the hair cut, he looked at me kind of strangely, walked over to me, touched my hair, drove a car through it and was fine. He does like to touch it, but he always loved to touch my hair when I wore it down before, so that’s no big surprise.
The response has been mostly positive. A kid at Eli’s daycare walked up to me and said, “you cut your hair” and when I replied affirmatively, she looked at me and said, “why?” It was pretty great. I also had a 4 year patient get super excited that I cut my hair just like theirs, which would be entirely adorable except that patient is a 4 year old boy. So, win some lose some.
I’m relatively happy with it overall, but as of now, I’m undecided if I’m going to continue to cut it this length or do the very, very gradual grow out. It hasn’t even been 2 weeks yet, so I have some time to make that decision. It may have been a rash pregnancy decision, but aside from a few hours of regret here and there, it doesn’t yet seem to be a bad one. Hair always grows back and sometimes, so I hear, change can be good.
Last week, for my husband’s birthday, I sent my him to New York to see the opening night of his brother’s off Broadway show (Kung Fu, for those interested). He was gone for what felt like an eternity (6 days!) and finally came home on Tuesday. It wasn’t until that day that I realized that for the first time since we had Eli, I had actually slept well without my husband. I credit this to a lot of things, therapy, PTSD medication and Unisom, but whatever the reason, I was feeling really proud of myself.
Then Thursday night, I drove down to San Diego for a mini blog conference Friday morning, which I will definitely share more about soon. I hadn’t planned to stay the night, but the combination of horrible weather, persistent morning sickness and an 8am conference call made driving down that morning not the safest option. And again, I slept alone and I slept fairly well. I never sleep as well at hotels as I do at home, but it was one of the better experiences I’ve had this past year.
And then Friday night happened.
It was around 7:30 on Friday night. My husband was upstairs giving Eli a bath and I was sitting on the couch reading an article on my computer. Our sliding glass door was closed, but the blinds are open, as they often
are were. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw something in the sliding glass door and I heard a tapping, but we’d had such crazy wind and rain all day, I didn’t even look up.
And then it happened again, except this time the tapping was louder and I could see there was clearly something there. I stood up and gasped. We have a patio in front of our apartment with a 5 foot tall wall around it. On that wall was a man, my guess is a teenager, in a black sweatshirt and black ski mask, squatting and tapping on the glass. When he saw that I saw him, he made a strange noise (bird like? I don’t know how to describe it) and tapped again.
Without flinching or screaming or even moving quickly, I walked up the stairs to my husband and told him that there was a man on our patio wall in a ski mask, tapping on the glass, and what was I supposed to do? He looked at me like I was insane and told me to call 911 because apparently that’s what someone not silently freaking out would do? And then we realized both phones were downstairs, so I had to go back down the stairs, where I did not look to see if the ski mask man was outside and called 911.
From there we met with a deputy (sheriff, I guess?) and a helicopter was sent out. Since no crime was officially committed, besides scaring the ever living crap out of me, they told us they wouldn’t be following up with us, but the helicopter had spotted 2 people who potentially fit the description and they’d follow them and see if there was anything worth doing. And then they left. And that was the last I heard about it. For all I know the guy is my next door neighbor and the police has no idea.
This person never entered my home, but I cannot shake the violated feeling that I have about what he did. I can only imagine that his whole intention was to scare me, which he managed, but he also really, really pissed me off. I no longer feel safe in my home. This person was able to climb up on my patio wall, unnoticed (even though there are 5 surrounding apartments), tap on my window and walk away unseen at 7:30 at night. How much more difficult would it have been for him to jump the wall and break into our apartment? To make matters worse my husband said that while I was gone Thursday night, someone walked up to our porch very late (like midnight) lingered for a second, and walked away, so it’s possible that this wasn’t an isolated event.
I worked really hard to not let anxiety keep me up at night or rule my thoughts and this person has undone so much of that. I feel like though he never entered my home, he’s intruded violently in my mind, and I’m so angry that I let him. I’m mad that he got what he wanted and that now I’m scared to be alone at home with my child. I’m mad that I’m absolutely terrified of sleeping here without my husband and that he has several planned conferences that will force me to face that few in the next few months. We are fine, our stuff is fine, but my sense of security is damaged. I know it will recover, I have all the tools to manage this, but I just shouldn’t have to.
And I’m really, really mad about it.
I was going to write a post today about people being stupid about politics because it’s been a while since I’ve offered a liberally skewed rant and really you can never have too many of those, but then this great thing happened. And so I’m going to share this video of my son because it is far more entertaining than any rant I have to offer.
When I decided to take the video, I just thought it would be cute to record the way he pronounces different animal sounds because they’re constantly evolving and I love them so much. And then on a whim, I asked him the last question and basically I haven’t stopped laughing since.
To be clear, I did not teach him this, nor did I encourage it, but it’s pretty much the best thing ever and I’ve bookmarked this video for all eternity.
(It’s a little dark, turn up your speakers, and maybe hide your kid and your wife)
Depending upon how you count it, I either made it to the second trimester 2 weeks ago (developmental timing?), last week (normal math) or this week (weird math). I don’t really care how you count, I am just glad to be moving to this next phase and running away from the last one.
I can’t even begin to explain how different this pregnancy has been. I don’t want to categorize it as bad, because I know that in the global scheme of pregnancies, it’s not bad. I haven’t had to have IV fluid, I haven’t needed a trip to the doctor besides my normal check ups, no bleeding or scary complications, several normal wonderful ultrasounds. I mean, this is not bad. It’s just so different. And I think what I’ve realized is that it has felt very difficult to me because I was not prepared.
With Eli I was vaguely nauseous a few times in the first trimester, had contractions through the entire third trimester, was homicidal the week before he was born and had a relatively easy labor and delivery. And that was it. It was easy. The contractions were obnoxious, but once we realized they weren’t doing anything, they were just an inconvenience. No real nausea, no real fatigue, not one single headache. I thought I was born to be pregnant.
I was mistaken.
This time around, I have struggled each day for the past almost 9 weeks with nausea. The first 6 weeks of it were brutal, to me. Partially because I wasn’t prepared and partially because I do not handle nausea well at all. I mean, AT ALL. So dry heaving all over my living room, throwing up whole Zofran or stomach bile all over the parking lot, not being able to even take a bite of dinner or watch my child eat a meal was rough. Again, not horrible or dehydrating or scary. Just really, really unpleasant. It is finally letting up a lot and I could not be more grateful. I’m still queasy in the mornings and need to move slowly, but the evenings are good more often than not, and the afternoons are easy. I still haven’t gained an ounce, but I’m not listing that as a negative at all. I have 20 Eli pounds to help cushion this baby, I can stand to not gain a ton.
And then there’s the headaches. Before I got pregnant with Eli, I had nearly constant headaches. They were awful and I spared no detail in whining about them (sorry I’m not really sorry). And then I got pregnant and they just stopped. I mean, completely altogether stopped. My neurologist could only guess that the increased blood volume improved my pressures and that was why, but regardless of the reason, it was amazing. And I told my husband I was just going to get pregnant over and over if they came back. And thankfully they didn’t ever get back to their prior awfulness, but I had some here or there, mostly related to hormones.
And then there’s this pregnancy. Holy hell. I have had almost constant headaches for the past 2-3 weeks. It seems to be primarily the pressure from dry heaving that triggers them, along with the stress on my neck (they’re really cervicogenic more than anything), but dude, they’re awful. I finally resorted to a category C migraine medication on Friday because I was on day 3 of what started as a pressure thing and ended up as a migraine and I was ready to lay down on the freeway and let cars run over me. It worked and has been a little better since, but I’m pretty sure that this baby is made primarily of Zofran and Tylenol.
I’m also visibly pregnant already. My uterus has some kickass muscle memory.
It’s just so very different this time, and I was not prepared for any of it. I am thrilled to be having this baby, and finally starting to feel like I’m slightly in control of my life again, but it’s been really surprising the whole way through. I started having painless contractions this week, but for now I’m just trying to ignore them and take it easy. My hope is that this sort of rough first trimester will pave the way for an easy 2nd and 3rd. That seems likely, right?
Either way, I know that in the end it’s worth it and that I really just need to adjust my expectations. I need to not expect the remaining 25 weeks to be a repeat of Eli’s gestation because that’s not the case, and the sooner I get that fact in my head, the better for everyone. I do have to say that I hope the outcome is the same though, because I have the best little kid ever, and I’ll take 40 weeks of nausea and fatigue and headaches if I’m lucky enough to get another wonderful little person like Eli in my life. He’s beyond worth it and I’m sure this one will be too.
This was one of those months where we only remembered to take the picture like 10 seconds before putting Eli to bed. The whole event devolved into tears pretty quickly and it looks a bit like a drunk monkey combed his hair.
1 year, 8 months and 1 day old!
1 year, 9 months and 1 day old!
(For the full list of pictures from the first year, see here)
Today you are 21 months old. Can we just pause here for a second? I cannot deal with how close you are to 2. The first year flew by, but the second year has been a blur. You are now so much closer to 2 than to 1 and I just can’t believe it.
This has been an interesting month. You are suddenly all about testing limits and boundaries. You do something, get told not to, then immediately do it 10 more times. You will often look at us with a knowing smile, or even say “no no” before you do something you know you shouldn’t. You had your first (and fifth) time out this month and they are equally unfun for you as they are for me.
There have been a lot of highs this month. You started a soccer class (for 18-23 month olds) and it’s just the cutest thing ever. You love the parachute and the bubbles and to kick the balls and balloons. You don’t so much love the sitting down and listening to directions part. You’re also doing a music class one day a week now too and you love the music and the instruments and I’m constantly impressed with how well you clean up and transition. If I could just get you to sit on my lap for a half a second, that’d be great.
You also have just continued to be amazingly verbal this month, bursting with new words and phrases each day. You now say “I love you” which, let’s be honest, is simply the greatest thing that has ever happened. You said “I don’t know” the other night, which was bananas because I didn’t even know you knew what that meant. You say “I did it” all the time (mostly after someone else does something for you) and “dere it is” (whether you found what you were looking for or not). You’re starting to put more 2 word phrases together and you’re just so much clearer lately with your wants, it’s pretty delightful. And you know how to spell your name, just like every 21 month old.
We got Disneyland year passes this month (thanks to some Christmas gift cards) and we’ve gotten to go several times already. You’re not super enthused (which is fine since you’re free), but you LOVE It’s a Small World and the Jungle Cruise and you thought the Tiki Room was the greatest thing ever. Basically you’d just like us to steer clear of everything in Fantasy Land.
Your likes this month include: the dishwasher, dipping food, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, the kitties, any dog in the universe, Tangled (which you call horse and neigh), actual horses, Elmo, cars and trucks, coloring, going down the slide at daycare, phones, pacifiers, the ABC’s.
Your dislikes this month include: sitting on your parents laps, vegetables, when you can’t have what you want and the second song on the Frozen soundtrack.
This month has been another tough one for me energy wise and it’s really been emotionally difficult. I know you won’t remember this, but I hate that I can’t give you the attention you want and deserve and I know that’s what some of your acting out has been about (besides normal toddler boundary testing). I am so hopeful that the tides will turn this month and I’ll be able to give you more time and energy, but in the meantime just know that I love you so very much and that this has been as tough for me as for you.
You have become even more loving than before this month. You are just head over heels in love with your grandparents, you give hugs and kisses freely for everyone. The only downside to this is that you’re very sad when they leave. Earlier this month your Grandma T came to hang out (you call her Aha ha ha, for some odd reason) so your dad and I could work, and you cried on and off for an hour after she had to leave that night. You have the same sadness when your dad or I have to leave for work or an errand. It’s heartbreaking, but it’s also so nice to be loved so much.
I kind of expected that with age, you’d become less snuggly and more active, but that really hasn’t been true. Last night before your bath, you sat on my lap, head on shoulder and just snuggled with me for at least 5 minutes. I told you I love you and you whispered the same back to me and it was a moment I will hold in my heart forever. The happiness I feel when I’m with you cannot be captured in words, no matter how hard I try, but it is overwhelming and relentless in the best kind of way.
Happy 21 months, Elijah. We love you so very much and can’t wait to see what next month will bring.
Every once in a while, I’ll have a day where I’m nearly overcome with love for Eli. I know it sounds just painfully cheesy and it feels that way too, but there are just days where all I want to do is kiss his little cheeks and tell him over and over how much I love him. Today was one of those days.
I think part of it is because we’re on the downhill side of a couple of tough weeks, behaviorally speaking. Eli is a very typical toddler. He wants to know where his boundaries are and what happens when he tests them. I know it’s normal and it is what he’s supposed to do, but it doesn’t make the parenting part of that any less tough. I know he needs rules and consequences, but sometimes it’s just exhausting to have days where it seems that the word no comes out more than anything else. And where all attempts at positive reinforcement and redirection are laughably useless.
Thankfully, the past few days have been good ones. Ones where we’re still maintaining the boundaries, but he’s comfortably living within them instead of slingshotting himself at them over and over to see how strong they are.
He’s just the coolest little person. Today I asked him what letter the letter E was and I know he knows it because he points it out everywhere and he just said, clear as day, “I don’t know.” He’s never said that before and I didn’t even know he knew what it meant. But he used it perfectly (I mean, aside from the part where he knows what letter E is). He seems to learn new things every day and it’s like every day is a treasure hunt to find the new stuff, to see how he has changed, how he has grown in the previous 24 hours.
When Eli first started daycare, I missed him fiercely. Like, cried myself to work, looked at pictures of him all day and just hated being away. And then we went through a bit of a transition where I really saw the benefit of daycare. We both did well with some time away, with our separate identities and our social interactions. But I almost feel like we’ve come full circle in a way. I miss him now, as much as I used to, but not in a sad way, just in the way where I wonder what he’s doing and saying and I want to be there to see it all. I’m not going to quit my job, but it really makes me feel more grateful for the days I get to stay home with him.
Watching him grow up is truly one of my greatest privileges.
I was warned about the toddler years and while I’ve only gotten the smallest taste so far, I know that the warnings are true. But I also know that the tough parts seem to make the rest of it seem so much better. It’s like, we had a tough week, I had to step up to the parenting plate and now that things have eased, I can sit back and see this incredible person again. I can see how smart and fun and joyful he is and it’s even better than it was a few weeks ago.
Just to put the cheesy icing on the cheesy feelings cake, all day I have been thinking about a line from A League of Their Own. I think in parenting, much like baseball (apparently?), “the hard is what makes it great.” If this is what toddlerhood is I am ready to embrace it with open arms. Even the hard, because the great is really, really great.
When we chose the theme for Eli’s room, we were interested in ease. All the products could be bought in one place, they were all matching and it was pretty simple to put it all together. But for a while, I’ve felt like something was missing. Like the room was too impersonal, even with his name hanging on the wall. So when I got an email a few months back with some really great kids posters, I was hoping that we’d found the personal touch we needed.
Before I even start, I want to clarify why I’m writing this particular post. It’s not about me at all, it’s not because I feel proud of anything, it’s purely because I think this is something that is incredibly misunderstood. And as someone who has a level of experience with this, I think some misconceptions need to be clarified. It’s not meant to be personal, but it’s impossible to relay some of the facts without it sounding that way, so sorry about that. Also, it got really long. Sorry about that too.
I belong to a facebook group of moms and many if not most of the women there are great. I have asked a number of questions and gotten many helpful answers and been directed to awesome resources that I didn’t have on my own. For that I am very grateful. But there are a few things about this group, which I think really represent society at large, that irk me. And one of them has to do with medicine and doctors.
Every few days, someone will post about something their doctor did or did not recommend and then they’ll ask for advice. Inevitably, there are people who encourage the person to trust their doctor and there are others who write scathing criticisms of everyone in healthcare. They’re predictable rants- your doctor isn’t well informed, they don’t read the research, they are only in it for the money, they’re only recommending x, y or z for the money and if only they could do a google search they’d realize that the doctor is wrong and if you follow their advice everything terrible will happen.
And I can’t help but just be endlessly frustrated by this. Now let’s be real, there are some seriously crappy doctors out there. But there are some terrible teachers, lawyers, plumbers, cooks and if we judge every profession by its worst member, we’d probably never leave our homes. And so, I think we need to take this skepticism of doctors and dismantle it a little and look at what truth their is in this vitriol.
Before a doctor can even apply to medical school they need a bachelor’s degree. Big whoop, I know. Then they need to take and pass the MCATs, have good community service or research and be a good all around applicant. The medical school application process is a giant pain involving flying for face-to-face interviews with not a ton of warning and then waiting for a response. It’s pricey and nerve wracking.
And then there’s medical school. As someone who only witnessed it and did not participate (thank God), I can say that it is unbelievably difficult. It requires discipline, intelligence and patience. And a lot of caffeine. Oh and money. The average public medical school cost is $162,736 and the average private medical school cost is $181,058. No matter how you break that down, it’s a lot of money.
Once medical school ends, residency begins. All American doctors must complete several years worth of residency, which is sort of like on the job training, to become an office or hospital based doctor. Residency can vary in length from 3 to 10+ years, depending upon the specialty and often is followed by a year or two of fellowship, which is like super specialized residency for lack of a better explanation. During this time they are paid roughly a public school teacher salary (at best), but the exact amount depends upon the area since residency salaries are adjusted for cost of living. Also, keep in mind that during residency most physicians are working 80 hours a week. When you break down their pay by the hour it’s embarrassingly low.
Several years ago there was a loan deferment option for residents based on economic hardship, but that was removed under George W. Bush (please, ask me how I feel about this) and now residents must either pay their loans during residency with their amazing pay or choose forbearance, which means they don’t have to pay, but the loans continue to accrue interest. From experience, since that’s the option we were advised to take (and took) let me just tell you it’s A LOT of interest. In my husband’s case the forbearance had a 48 month limit, so now he’s having to make loan payments while in residency. And then once residency ends, the monthly loan payments are over a thousand dollars each month for decades.
I know what you’re thinking- but doctors make so much money!
They really don’t. I’m not going to say they’re underpaid, but they’re hardly overpaid. Most non-surgeons (who typically make more and have longer and more arduous residencies), make somewhere in the neighborhood of $170,000 their first year out of residency. It’s certainly not nothing, but it’s not quite the rich millionaire status that most people seem to think and you have to keep in mind loan payments and the astronomical cost of malpractice insurance.
So there’s the cost and the income part of it. I think it’s important to note that most hospital based doctors are salaried. While you may receive a bill from a surgeon, chances are, they’re not getting what you pay in their pocket, the hospital is and it’s contributing to a set salary. If you really think that your OB is suggesting a c-section for your breech baby because she wants more money, you are ill informed and skeptical to a fault.
Beyond that is the ongoing education component that seems to be often missed. My husband (who let’s be clear, isn’t some sort of super doctor. I mean, he gets good reviews from his attendings and is a good physician, but I don’t want you to think he’s an anomaly) spends 4-5 hours a week reading articles. Some of them are assigned by his attendings, but many of them are simply ones he found to make sure that he is up to date on pertinent research. My point is that it is VERY likely that your doctor is doing research regularly. That they are reading scholarly journals and paying attention to new information. The kind of stuff that gets peer reviewed, not so much the kind of stuff that appears in google searches. Please don’t assume that your doctor isn’t keeping up to date on research, they have continuing education requirements and the vast majority of them are doing the best they can for their patients.
There is an emotional toll to being a physician as well. If you ask my husband, who is only 5 years out of medical school if he would do it again, he will tell you without hesitation that he wouldn’t. He loves his job. He loves helping children and giving them quality of life, finding out new ways to treat illnesses and making a difference for his patients. You can see him come to life when he talks about cases that were tricky or about times they figured out the right medication combo, it’s just awesome. But what is hard for him and others is the naysayers and the parents. He has been part of teams that have spent countless hours finding the right medications for critically ill patients, only to have parents refuse them because they have a potential side effect of diarrhea. He has been “fired” from a patient’s care because his team suggested a treatment that the parents googled and found could cause weight gain. I wish I was kidding, but truly, I’m not. Last month he had to stay late at work so the grandparents of a patient could drive 2 hours to yell at him because their grandchild had a mild and reversible reaction to a medication. And this isn’t outlandish or unusual. This is common.
I know it reads like a whole lot of woe is them and I’m not trying to paint it that way. I just think that the picture that so many have that doctors rely only on the information they learned in medical school while they count their piles of money and try to trick patients into paying for extra treatments really couldn’t be farther from the truth. And I think that the way people ignore doctor’s advice in favor of google searches is terrifying. I think being an informed patient is absolutely awesome and that everyone should be. But I think that trusting Dr. Google over a person who has completed years of training is just stupid.
I know that I’ve probably lost most people by this point, but I guess I am just hoping that by sharing this, which is only a fraction of what I could say about this issue, is that people will take a breath and stop assuming the worst in their doctors. The vast majority of them do what they do because they truly care for their patients. They care about their outcomes and their quality of life and truly want what’s best. And to be accused of being money grubbing and uneducated is one of the reasons why so many doctors wish they had gone into a different field.
Just keep in mind that your doctors are people just like you. They’re husbands and wives and parents and good people. They went into this field to help people and helping their patients, regardless of the personal cost, is what they do each day. And while you’re making them stay late so you can berate them, they’re missing dinner with their family. Or when they come in at 8pm on a weeknight to check on your child, they’re doing it at the sacrifice of time with their family. So maybe instead of assuming the worst every time, you might try the benefit of the doubt at least occasionally. You might be surprised.
When I think back on my childhood, there were a number of adults who played a major role in my development. My parents, aunts, uncles, grandparents, siblings and the like. But if I had to pick one person who wasn’t related to me who played the biggest role in shaping the person I am today, it would be, without question, Kathy.
Kathy was my 5th grade teacher, which I know sounds a little random (and I definitely didn’t call her Kathy then and barely can now), but it was a pivotal year for me. 3rd and 4th grade were years where I was tormented every day by my classmates. I was called every name you could imagine, mocked for any and everything and when my mom brought the issue up to my principal, she told my mom that I brought it on myself (which, what?). The people who were supposed to protect me from bullying didn’t and it made it very hard for me to trust my teachers. Not to mention, on my last 4th grade report card I got a C+ in math, out of nowhere, and when my mom asked about it, my teacher said that she gave it to me “because Katie needed to be taken down a peg.” For real.
So in 5th grade, my mom moved me to a different school and I’m not sure if it was luck of the draw (I suspect not since my mom taught at both my new and old schools), but Kathy was my teacher. On the first day of 5th grade, a classmate who had transferred schools with me started teasing me on the playground and within a matter of moments, Kathy shut it down. For the first time in years, I felt like I had a teacher who had my best interests in mind.
And that year was one of the very best. She fostered in me a love of learning that I had lost. She helped me learn what it was to take responsibility for my mistakes instead of hiding from them. I credit a lot of my work ethic and eventual academic success to her, but more importantly, she gave me self-confidence in a time where others had stolen it away, she gave me trust in adults when I had lost it long before. I came out of 5th grade a different person than I started.
Her influence didn’t end there because Kathy and my mother have been good friends for years and she continued to be in my life long after that year. She has been to birthday parties and holidays, she insisted upon doing the calligraphy for our wedding invitations (and it was amazing!) and threw a baby shower for Eli that was incredible. She came to my 30th birthday party last year, which besides her was exclusively family. Because honestly, she feels like family.
And now she has cancer. Last week she had major surgery for an invasive abdominal cancer and had to have a second procedure yesterday for a complication that arose. It surprised me not even a little bit to learn that she ripped out her breathing tube yesterday (she’s pretty feisty) and has kept her doctors very much on their toes. She’ll be starting chemotherapy soon and has a long road of healing and poking and prodding ahead of her.
There is no donation fund here, I’m not looking for money or food or anything that will cost you money, but I can’t lose her. And so I’m sharing Kathy with you. I’m hoping that if all of you take a bit of our story with you and love her a little bit that maybe think about her or add her to your prayer lists or your thoughts, that things will start to make a turn for the better for her.
I’m not someone who tosses the world love around easily and the other day I was talking to my husband and without even thinking I blurted out, “she has to get better, I love her.” And truly, I mean it. I love this woman as if she was my own family. I am who I am, so much, because of her and to be honest, I’m scared right now about what she is facing. I’m not ready to imagine a world without Kathy and if you knew her, you would understand. She makes this world a brighter place every single day.
So as a not overly religious person, I’m asking for whatever you can give. If prayers are your thing, please offer some for Kathy and her husband Jim. If thoughts are more your speed, please send good thoughts her way. And if neither of those suit you, please tell someone in your life how much you love them and how much they mean to you. I know I’ll be doing that the next time I see Kathy because right now I hate that I’ve never done it before.
If you want to keep up with her journey, Kathy has a caringbridge page here.