The Gym and The Trainer

About a month ago I thought about joining a gym. I figured it was time for me to get back into the habit of taking care of myself and my body. And I knew with everything going on with Kathy, that I needed to very actively do something to put myself first. It would be so easy in all the craziness going on around me, to choose to make myself feel better by putting crap in my mouth.

I could hear myself rationalizing another crappy meal choice, "After all I've done, it's the least I could do for myself." "I deserve this for going up to the house and sitting with her." "With a day like this, I need a beer and a burger to make the day better." It's been an endless cycle and I know it all too well.

So when I thought about joining a gym, I decided to act on it- quickly. I took a tour of Equinox, arguably the prettiest gym ever, and signed up shortly there after. The facility is impressive- it's obsessively clean (just as I like it), it's not too crowded, I can bike there and back, the classes seem interesting and most importantly, there is a personal training program that I knew I could benefit from.

With some of the money from my lame white car accident (my poor parked buggy was backed into by a white car at the laundromat about a month and a half ago, only furthering my white cars are totally lame theory), I invested in 12 sessions of personal training (which was actually 15 because of different promos, etc.) and am really really happy with the results so far.

First of all, I'm really loving the gym. Besides it being a pretty person gym (and a handful of semi-famous people work out there too), I've enjoyed being in that environment. I like getting out of my apartment and being around people. As great as Clancy is, I'm enjoying the gym energy. Secondly, the personal training is amazing.

I was fortunate enough to be paired up with a wonderful trainer, Brittany, who is a great match for me. In the six sessions we've had so far, she's pushed me more than I ever would have pushed myself. She has helped me see how strong I am and has gently guided me into a safe and healthy environment. I'm doing things I haven't ever done (or things I haven't done in years) and I'm not letting my weight be a deterrent for trying just about everything that's thrown at me.

My only concern at this point is how I can keep up with the personal training since it's such a huge cost and certainly not something I can keep up with all year long. For now, I'm just going to continue to work my hardest during each session and absorb everything like a sponge!

I've been really honest about my hang-ups and let Brittany know that one of my biggest challenges is that I lose interest if I don't see a difference immediately when I put my all towards weight loss efforts. This is why I'm doing PT three times a week for the first five weeks. I'm also mixing in cardio days and learning how to work out with the aid of a heart rate monitor.

It's an exciting time and I'm happy to say that I'm three weeks in and I can feel a difference in my confidence and my strength. I'm making positive changes to take care of myself during an insanely intense and difficult time and I'm really proud for choosing to treat my body well during a time when I could so easily justify doing exactly the opposite.

I'm looking forward to sharing more good news and results as I continue down this path of physical fitness!

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Well that was a nice Surprise

Today my mom and I went up to see Kathy. It'd been more than a week since my last visit and I was anxious about seeing her. Steve had told me that she's changed a lot since last week- more disfigurement of her face as a result of no treatment and the advancement of the cancer. My anxiety level seems to correlate with the rapid deterioration of Kathy's health; as the health declines, my anxiety level soars.

Anyway, I give my mom huge props for going up there and seeing Kathy- it is not an easy thing to do and something she so easily could have avoided during this visit. But we went up and visited with Steve's dad for a while before Kathy asked me to come in before my mother did. She told Daddy-o (Steve's dad's name is Steve as well, so to help figure out which Steve I'm talking about, know that Steve is my Steve and Daddy-o is Kathy's Steve) that she wanted to speak with me. After a few minutes of talking Kathy said, "I've got a secret." Turns out she just wanted me to sneak her some vodka in a cup with diet Pepsi and ice. When I told Kathy she'd have to distract Daddy-o and my mom, she managed to get out, "Can't you do that dear? I've got enough going on."

Point taken.

So I slipped out while they slipped in and filled a plastic cup with diet Pepsi, vodka (secretly wondering but not caring if Daddy-o will figure out who opened the brand new unopened bottle of vodka) and ice as Kathy wished. I cringe when she asks me these things (she asked me a few weeks ago to help her figure out how to take some of her pain medication that they're weaning her off of since she couldn't swallow the pill anymore and it shouldn't mix with morphine- which I ended up cutting up with a pair of scissors on a little round mirror she had by her bed. Don't ask me what I was thinking...apparently I turned into a major druggie and helped line her drugs up on the mirror for her to take) not because I disagree- I say whatever this lady wants, this lady gets at this point- but rather because I'm afraid that I'll mix the wrong things and that'll be the end of her.

When I nonchalantly walked back into the room and gave Kathy her cup, she looked at me and winked. Such a small exchange, but it had a huge impact on me- and, more importantly, on Kathy as well. "What will our signal be?" Kathy asked. I gave her the peace sign or a "v" in sign language for vodka. So periodically through the rest of the visit she'd look at me and wink. And I'd look at her glass and give her the peace sign, a thumbs up and a shrug of my shoulder as if to ask "Everything okay over there with that alcoholic beverage you made me get you that could create a toxic and possibly fatal mix with the morphine?" Each time I was rewarded with an upturn of Kathy's eyes (the only indication that she's sort of smiling, which has been made impossible with the cancer eating away at her face) and a wink.

The conversation that really surprised me, and crushed me all the same, was when Kathy looked at my mom and said, "Anne, I don't think I've ever thanked you." And then my mom (in classic Anne Corridan fashion!) goes, "For what? The flowers I sent you?" Kathy shook her head no and looked straight at me and said "For her." My mom acknowledged how grateful she was that I've been able to help and then Kathy started to cry and said, "I'm going to miss her." Good lord. That sent us all over the edge and before I knew it I was crying (after I choked out, "I'm going to miss you too.") and my mom was crying. It was one of those moments that I'll never forget and cherish equally, despite the intense sadness of her words.

My mom then relayed to Kathy that she gets through everyday without my father by believing that the people we love are still with us but just "hovering above." She said she doesn't think that the people we love really ever leave us. And reiterated again that this was how she was able to live each day with my father gone. I got a glimpse into my mother's daily grief of life without my father- something I rarely hear about, but think about everyday. After my mom shared that, Kathy looked straight at my mom, all mesmerized (or possibly the effects of vodka and morphine were settling in) and glassy-eyed, like both me and my mom.

Kathy's always been a bit crazy and out there. Lots of examples- famous Christmas present slide shows that I've put together over the years (now those I'm going to miss), her crazy outfits from African American catalogs, wearing two different shoes because she couldn't choose just one, falling asleep at the dinner table- the same one where she'd place her dog in an antique wooden high chair- and far too many others to list here. But as I was with her today and heard Kathy say to my mom after thanking her for me "Aren't we the lucky ones?" I realized, that maybe being crazy is what gets you through an experience like this. If being crazy allows you to live through a horrific experience like this with humor and more grace and bravery than I've ever seen from this woman, then maybe crazy is all right. Who the fuck am I to judge?

As we wrapped up our visit (after an unsuccessful attempt earlier to leave when Kathy said, "Why? Don't go. I get lonely." Another shot right to the heart), I went over and gave Kathy a kiss on her forehead and told her that I loved her. I turned around one more time as I left her room knowing that it could be the last time I saw her. Cause although I said I'd stop by on Wednesday, the reality of the situation is she may not be there.

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The Waiting Game

I've always known just how crazy life can be. How utterly confusing and out of control it can get. How exhaustion and sadness can take over your body even though you're getting an acceptable amount of sleep. How even when you go to sleep, sleep sometimes doesn't come. I know all these things because I truly live life. But the ride I've been on for the last several months has completely reinforced that. Again. And I am truly exhausted on so many levels. And in many ways, I feel like the relief won't come when she dies. I think it'll just start the sadness and exhaustion down a different path.

Sometimes I peer into this life of mine and wonder "how the hell did I get here?" I've stepped up to the plate in ways I never anticipated. Ways I knew I was capable of. But I've had a front seat to the deterioration of my mother-in-law; an experience that will surely be seared into my brain for just the rest of my life.

One of the many things I accomplished today was to write her obituary. No, she hasn't passed away yet, but her husband is hell bent on getting ahead of the laundry list of things you need to do once someone dies. Last week we went to the mortuary together. This week I've been researching service options, funeral scriptures and readings and obituary prices.

Months ago I volunteered- begged- my in-laws to let me accompany them to doctor's appointments so we could all have a much better idea of what was actually happening with Kathy's health. Yesterday, I had to lie to my brother and sister-in-law so one of them would go up to the house to keep Kathy company while her Stephen went to the DMV. I couldn't take it. The thought of going up to the house and sitting by Kathy's bedside while she dozed in and out of consciousness, lighting up a cigarette, and feeding herself morphine was literally too much for me to handle. Anxiety was taking over as I thought about going back up to the house. I needed an out. Even though I said yes, I couldn't stomach going up there. Which is to say I'm totally overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation.

What started out as a spot on her lip about a year and a half ago, has turned into (jaw) bone cancer which has spread beyond the jaw and has completely disfigured my mother-in-law. The cancer is literally eating away at her face and there's a huge hole where part of her lip and chin should be. I could be more graphic, but I will refrain.

A month ago, as I sat in my 15th appointment or so, Kathy's long-time physician looked her in the eyes and said "We've done everything we can for you. To continue to do anymore treatment at this point would be unkind." So we have literally been waiting for her to die. And it's been terrible.

We didn't go through this with my dad. We had everyday to hope he was getting better. Until one day, we were told he was dying. And the next day, he died. This experience with Kathy and watching my husband and the rest of Kathy's family go through this has been insanely difficult.

I've played a very large part in the end of this woman's life, and although she's been rotten to me at times in the past, I've managed to put all of that aside to help her find meaning, joy, comfort and love in the last days of her life.

At this point, we literally just wait. Everytime the phone rings, the knot in my stomach (which is always there) tightens up and I'm reminded that maybe this is "the call." Whenever I see a call from a blocked number, my stomach drops and I feel my entire body start to tense. It's a terrible feeling waiting for death to come right around the corner, and to know that it literally could be the next phone call or that the next visit could be the last.

But waiting is all we can do for now.

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For Amy

You'll be happy to know that I've (supposedly) made 222 posts.

And I'm writing this on the 22nd!

Thought you'd like that.

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Sorry Cerie!

So much to update, but I thought I'd kick it off with a fun little post (since the next major update I have to do is not going to be a walk in the park) about how I worked out on some elliptical type of machine at the gym today and the machine was right in front of Cerie from 30 Rock. I wanted to turn around and apologize, but, it's a gym, I'm working out, I'm there to lose weight. Whatever. Get over it, Molly.

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