Summer Celebrations and My remains

Dear Bloggees,

It's been a while since I wrote a letter to you, which was the original idea for this blog, you might recall. We had a very fun July 4th weekend in Maine with my family. Eighteen of us jammed in my mom's, not very large, summer home on an island off the mid-coast of Maine. Utter chaos. The group includes many growing boys and an average size refrigerator. Grocery shopping, cooking, kitchen cleaning, trash removal and dealing with the plumbing take up the greater portion of our "vacation" time as a family.

The sleeping arrangements usually offer opportunities for adventure and diplomacy. The results this year were that two of the party slept in a tent and two or three in boats. The husband and I scored a bedroom. Yet another perk of BC.

It's a beautiful place. The house sits on a hill overlooking Penobscot bay. The yard is fringed with lilies, rosa rugosa, raspberry bushes and wild phlox. The husband and I like to pull our Adirondack chairs to the far edge of the lawn and watch the field mice and sparrows darting about. Sometimes we read there. But since there is usually a fierce game of badminton or an aggressive gossip session going on behind us, it's hard to get too immersed in nature or literature.

We've gathered at this place annually for many years. There is always some family friction to deal with and a lot of frustration in trying to do the stuff you have imagined you were going to do before you got there. But we manage to produce precious memories most of the time, so we always return. This year the memories included the combination of inept badminton played by the adorable 14-year old girls alongside the practically professional badminton played by teenage and 20-something boys; a lobster feast and silly, poetic tributes to my mom whose birthday we were celebrating; a bike ride that included a tire blow out so became a bike walk; a dance party that featured the husband's "gator" and the exotic, athletic moves of the daughter; a slow walk around the point; and cutthroat Pictionary.

The Bay is the focus of a lot of activity up there. My family likes to sail and kayak in it, and eat the lobster and mussels from  it. I only like to spend time in the bay when the temperature is in the 80s and the sky is clear, so almost never. My father loved sailing in the bay. He was a late comer to sailing and was truly a hazard to the other boats that might have the misfortune of sailing too close to him and of course to his unlucky "crew" (usually some of us). After he died, (in a manner unrelated to his lack of sailing skills), we tossed his ashes in the bay thinking that was where his remains belonged. I often wonder about that. The water is so cold, the air is damp and foggy, and the noise of the lobster boats incessant. I wouldn't want my remains floating there.

For the record, I would like my remains in a place where you can't hear motors. I am so tired of the sound of cars, planes, boats, guns (yes, guns - we live near a shooting range), lawn mowers. Plant me on a hill away from the noise, please.

Well, I hadn't meant to get melancholy, but sometimes that 's what this blog is for. I hope you all had happy July 4th breaks and have more summer fun to anticipate.

Be well.

Love,
Amy

A New Nickname

So it is time to concede that Chemo Brain is a real problem and I have it. The husband has taken to calling me CB (which, he reminds me, also stands for chicken brain.) I did a little research on Chemo Brain, and learned about some common symptoms.

• Forgetting things that they usually have no trouble recalling, memory lapses
• Trouble concentrating, can’t focus on what they’re doing, have a short attention span, may “space out”
• Trouble multi-tasking
• Taking longer to finish things, disorganized, slower thinking and processing
• Trouble remembering common words (unable to find the right words to finish a sentence)

So a typical day in the life of CB goes something like this.

Deaf, elderly dog barks. Barks again.  Barks again. Not with any particular rhythm or frequency which makes it even more irritating. Each bark is a grating surprise. CB squints at the clock. 5:30am. CB pulls a pillow over her cold, bald head to muffle the noise. Husband gets up to manage the dogs. 

Two hours later, CB gets out of bed.  Unused to her new cancer corpulence, CB waddles stiffly into the bathroom. Looks at herself in the mirror. Shuffles a bit faster out of the bathroom. CB stands uncertainly in the middle of the bedroom. What to do next? Dress? Wash up? Drink a cup of coffee? Ten minutes pass. CB scratches her mosquito bites. CB's feet start to hurt. CB returns to bed. CB thinks to herself, today is going to be a productive day. No wasting time. No distractions. Just pure productivity from morning to night. And then CB will have a good night's sleep. A good night's sleep sounds good. Maybe last night's sleep isn't over yet. CB pulls pillow back over her head. 

Oblivion fails to return. CB gets up. Shuffles back to the bathroom and washes up without looking at herself in the mirror. Opens shirt drawer. What shirt should she select today to cover her mangled torso. That one is too tight. That one is too skimpy. That one is too bright. That one is too transparent. Might as well wear this one...again. Now what pants to wear. Too tight all of them. Sweatpants...again.

CB waddles downstairs to make breakfast. Feeling good. Ready to really bustle about. With great efficiency and sense of purpose, CB pulls out the eggs, the butter, the toast. Wondering whether all this activity might count as her exercise for the day, CB energetically drops a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster. 

The phone rings. CB answers. No one responds. CB hangs up. Suddenly CB remembers that she needs to transfer the laundry to the dryer. Back upstairs. While transferring the laundry, CB notices that she hadn't made the bed. CB makes the bed. She finds herself standing in the middle of the bedroom again. A bit confused. Now what is CB doing up here? CB sniffs the air. Something's burning. Damn. Fast waddle back down. The toast.

Back to the kitchen. The toast is burnt. CB extracts the toast and makes a big mess of crumbs. She cleans the crumbs. She does a really good job of this, and feels a sense of accomplishment. What else needs cleaning. CB notices that the cabinets have some smudges on them. CB vigorously cleans one or two cabinets. She peers into the oven and decides it too needs cleaning. She rinses out her cleaning rag in preparation for the oven cleaning project but sees water spots on the window. It may be time to clean the windows.

The phone rings. CB's sister checking in. They chat for 20 minutes. CB's son comes into the kitchen. "Is breakfast ready yet? Didn't you say you were going to make it about 2 hours ago?"

Time to do some work. CB sits down at her computer. First things first. Check email. Hmmmmm. Pottery Barn is having a sale. Might want to check that out. Huh, those curtains are nice. Now where might CB need some new curtains?

CB heads upstairs to consider this question. Once upstairs, CB can't remember what she's doing up there. Walking past the laundry machines reminds CB to fold the clothes in the dryer. Forty five minutes later CB returns to her desk.

CB continues to review her email. Then CB decides it is time to get serious. She opens up a work folder. She sits up straight, cleans her fingernails and writes the title of the paper she is working on. That feels good. She's on a roll now.

CB realizes she needs to do a little research first. She opens Google. Oh what a funny little video is posted on her home page. CB wonders what other funny videos she might find on You Tube. Lots. Back to the research. CB finds some information that might be relevant to her paper. She begins to read an article. She suddenly feels a bit peckish. Whoa! Time for lunch already.

So it goes...