Carnival

I started this blog to find meaning in my everyday life. Early on, I discovered there were things I did as a mother that made me feel happy, proud, and grateful all at once. That’s when I began the Runaway Mama Bucket List.

On my list so far are watching my boys splash in puddles, baking a cake from scratch, running a 5K and having my kids watch me cross the finish line, and taking Dylan to see Cars 2 in the movie theater.

This past weekend, there was a small carnival set up at a church near our house. The boys had never been to a carnival, which, of course, was a source of anxiety for me. (God forbid they missed out on such an important childhood experience. It would be heartbreaking. Devastating. They’d eventually resent me, and they’d never get into a decent college.)

The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. It was my mission to bring them to the carnival and – drum roll please – take them on their first ever Ferris wheel ride. It would be extraordinary! It would be a bonding experience for the whole family! It would change our lives forever! They boys would never forget the unbelievable feeling of being on top of the world! It would end up on my Runaway Bucket List for sure!

Editor’s note: Thank you, Mike, for indulging me. Lucky for you, there was beer for sale at the carnival.

Before we left the house, I told the boys to be good listeners because it would be busy and crowded. I also said, “If you’re saving your poops for the carnival, you’re going to be very disappointed. Go now, because if anyone has to use the bathroom at the carnival, which will surely be gross, we’re leaving.”

Editor’s note: It might be time to address my public bathroom issues with a professional.

And then we were off!

There she was…

ferris1

First, we went on some rides…

motorcycle

This kid took the motorcycle ride very seriously.

rollercoaster

Dylan’s first roller coaster!

Then we played some games, which robbed us of our life savings.

game

Worry not. It was worth every penny, because we “won” a lot of crap prizes.

prize

In fact, Riley actually earned back everything we lost when he “won” this hundred dollar pillow.

Of course, I carried everything (#motherhoodis).

prize2

And then, it was finally time for the bucket list worthy Ferris wheel ride.

Mike and I double-checked with the boys that they weren’t afraid. You’re not nervous? You’re not scared? Both said they weren’t, so we went for it. The views were pretty cool, and the boys seemed to enjoy it. I, on the other hand, had a moment when we reached the top and the ride stopped because other people were getting on down below. We were just dangling up there. Swaying in the breeze. Hanging from a metal contraption that was probably fifty years old and taken apart and put back together hundreds of times each year, which got me thinking…

What kind of mechanical safety measures were in place at this creepy, traveling carnival? How often were the rides checked for maintenance? What if we fell to the ground? Would we survive? What was I thinking!? I heard about carnival ride accidents in the news all the time! Were the carnie workers trained to handle the equipment or an emergency? And why did they have so few teeth?

Then, as quickly as it stopped, the ride began moving again, and my Crazy slowly receded. I smiled and took some pictures…

ferris5

ferris4

ferris2

ferris3

…and when we were safely on the ground again, I breathed deep.

Then we had “lunch.” By lunch, I mean popcorn and a blue raspberry snow cone.

lunch

Carnival. Check.

Ferris wheel. Check.

Bucket list? Maybe.

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Filed under bucket list, carnival, Crazy Mama

Left and Right

The chemotherapy I had after my molar pregnancy was given by injection.  Every week for eight weeks, I had a shot in my left and right  buttocks.  Every week.  Left and right.

The left side never hurt, but the right side was excruciating every single time.  After a few weeks, my entire body winced in anticipation of the injection on the right side.

I’m sure there was a medical explanation for it, that there was a nerve or something in the way.  To me, though, it represented perfectly the internal struggle I had with my situation.  With wanting a baby and getting cancer in my uterus instead.  The left side surrendered.  Shit happens.  The right side fought like hell.  How could this happen to me?  The left side accepted the situation.  Let’s just get through this.  The right side rejected it.  Are you fucking kidding me?  The left side wanted to move on.  The right side wanted to wallow in it.

It felt good sometimes – a lot of the time, actually – to be miserable (right), but at my core, I wanted to persevere (left).  I’m proud to say that I did, but not without a struggle.  Not without an exhausting back and forth between the two sides.  Between the left and the right.

Earlier this week, I went to the endocrinologist for a follow-up ultrasound on my thyroid nodule.  The good news is that it’s still very small.  The bad news is that it’s dark in color and has blood flow.  These attributes don’t necessary mean the nodule is malignant, but it would be better if these attributes weren’t there.  Per my doctor’s recommendation, I’m having an fine-needle biopsy done next Thursday afternoon.

Although thyroid nodules are common, thyroid cancer is rare.  According to the Mayo Clinic, about 95% of thyroid nodules are benign.  Even better, if caught early, most thyroid cancers are 100% curable.  Chances are that my nodule is benign, and even if it’s not, chances are that I’ll be fine in the long run.

Left.

Molar pregnancies are also rare.  According to WebMD.com, only about one in 1,500 women with early pregnancy symptoms has a molar pregnancy, and out of 1,000 cases of partial molar pregnancy (the kind I had), only about 50 develop trophoblastic disease (i.e. the cancer in the uterus).  The Mayo Clinic says molar pregnancies are more likely (1) if you’re older than 35 and younger than 20, (2) if you’ve had a previous molar pregnancy, and (3) if you’re of Southeastern Asian decent.   That I – a 29-year-old white woman with no previous pregnancies – managed to end up with trophoblastic disease was astonishingly…unbelievably…extraordinarily…phenomenally…I could go on and on…shitty.

Right.

If my anxiety over my health seems irrational, it’s because it is.  I worked hard to climb out of the darkness and sludge of the molar pregnancy, but no matter how much better – no matter how “fixed” – I feel, I’ll always be easily cracked.  I’ll always know that the most unlikely result can and does happen.  Even though I know it’s very likely that my nodule is benign, I can’t help but imagine that it’s malignant.

Despite all of the things I don’t believe, I do believe this:  You get what you give. For this reason, I’m trying my best to stay positive. For all of my medical calamities, I’m still here, and I know people with far worse problems (medical and otherwise) than a pesky little thyroid nodule.  Besides that, I have great doctors, my family and friends are chomping at the bit to help in any way they can, and perhaps most importantly, I know that if I fall, I’ll be caught.  This I know for sure.

Left.

Yet, I also feel completely and utterly unlucky.  Even if the news is eventually good – that the nodule is benign – I still have to go through the “not painful but not comfortable” biopsy (the nerve conduction study I had on my leg last year comes to mind) and then wait up to five agonizing days for the results.  Here it comes.  The negativity.  The self-pity.  Why me?  Why a molar pregnancy and now this?

Right.

So, what’s a Runaway Mama to do?  Keep moving.  One step at a time.  Left and right.  Left and right.

Thankfully, I have plenty of things to distract me (i.e. my kids).  In particular, I have 20 Spider-Man goodie bags to prepare for Riley’s fourth birthday party this weekend.  This beautiful little person who puts socks on his hands and calls them mittens because he wants to go to Grandma Irene’s house where there’s snow that badly…

(Remember, we live in South Florida.)

(Remember, we live in South Florida.)

…and who put Mr. Penguin in the refrigerator the other night because penguins like to be where it’s cold…

(Yes, that's my trusty Pinot Grigio to the left.)

(Yes, that’s my trusty Pinot Grigio to the left.)

…deserves an epic celebration.

No conflict there.  My left and right side are totally in sync on this one.

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Filed under anxiety, cancer, health, molar pregnancy, thyroid