What, No Unicorns?

If you are someone whose life is going 100% according to plan, you have absolutely no worries, and you're currently riding on a unicorn eating rainbows, this is not the post for you. So just go sit on your unicorn and be happy in the corner.

BUT, if you are someone whose life is maaaybe going like 62% according to plan on a good day, and your mind is full of all kinds of worries, and you've never even seen a real unicorn, you might need this post.

Listen up, little camper. I don't know your life. And even though you read my blog religiously, you don't know my life. You aren't there when I'm crying because of how people look at me at stoplights. You don't know what I'm feeling in the mornings when every step feels like little garden gnomes are kicking my knees. You haven't experienced my pain when I can't remember a word or phrase that I know shouldn't be difficult. You can't understand how intensely sick I get just thinking about chemo. But, like most things, it goes two ways, folks. I'm not there when you're up at two in the morning stressing about your love life. I don't know what you're feeling when you go to a job where you aren't appreciated. I haven't experienced your pain when you find out that you aren't pregnant. I can't understand how worried you are not finding a job. Like I said, you don't know my life, and I don't know yours.

Guess what, though? I don't think that really matters. Not in the long run. It's hard and it's sad to experience things like that, and I wish there was a magic antidote, but there just isn't. I'm really sorry if this is a spoiler, but life can suck and so far I haven't seen any unicorns. Guess what I have seen? People. People who make every sad, hard, difficult thing worth it because they are magical and beautiful and *cough* even better than unicorns.

My 7th graders read The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton at the end of the school year. If you haven't read it, you've spared yourself some tears but you're also missing out on an amazing book. There's a part in the story where a boy reads a letter that was written to him by a friend before this friend died. In the letter, he reads, "There's still a lot of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don't think he knows."

There's still a lot of good in the world. 

That one sentence has been stuck in my mind for months, and it's kind of become my new mantra because it's freaking awesome. When I'm sitting in the chemo chair trying to forget where I am, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I focus on making it through those few hours. When I wake up and can't think of a reason to get out of bed and try, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I buck up and find something to do. When I watch the news and just want to slap everyone in the face for being stupid, I think, there's still a lot of good in the world, and I want to slap them a little less.

We have to focus on the good. There's so much bad in the world and in our lives that it clouds out everything else. It makes it so hard to find happy moments and reasons to keep going, but the good is there. The bad in the world tends to yell and shove itself in your face. The good is quieter. It's always there, behind the hurt and the sadness, but it doesn't broadcast itself. We don't hear about good on the news everyday and it's not blowing up our Facebook feeds. Why? Because so often the good that gives us the strength to keep going isn't some huge, newsworthy event. The good parts of life come to us in little moments, little glimpses when we can see just how wonderful life can be. Moments like driving through a field of Aspen trees and loving the wind on your face. Moments like hearing a song that somehow matches exactly how you're feeling. Moments like laughing with a car full of friends because they hate laundry too. Moments like buying 7 things of shaved ice and spilling them all over the car on the drive home. Moments like flirting with a drop-dead gorgeous man. Moments like laughing uncontrollably at stupid internet puns. Moments like eating half a watermelon with a fork. Moments like looking around at a family barbecue and realizing you're so lucky that these people are yours. Just moments. Those little things that make you smile and make your heart beat a little faster - look for those moments!

It's okay to have hard days. It's normal to have worries. I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one whose life is going maybe 62% according to plan. I can't know and can't take away all of your hard times. Heck, I can't even do that for myself. But what I can do is tell you that there's still a lot of good in the world. Keep going. If you didn't find a happy moment today, look for one tomorrow. Call a friend who makes you smile. Read your favorite book. Watch a Will Smith movie. Jump into a pool. I can't promise you'll find unicorns, but I do know that you can find the good if you look hard enough. Find the good. And once you find it, help someone else find it, too, because maybe their good is hiding behind a wall of bad. We can't let each other forget that the good is still out there. Who knows? Maybe you can be the good in someone's day. Be the person who reminds them that there's still good in the world. There's always a reason to smile and there's always a reason to keep fighting. That's pretty magical. Maybe even more magical than a unicorn.

Here's a picture of us eating watermelon. Just, ya know, for your viewing pleasure. Also, I do not have a unibrow - that's just my glasses mocking my lack of eyebrow hair.

Just keepin ya up to date!

Break out your party hats, you happy people, because we are almost done with chemo!! I've completed 9 treatments and have 3 more. For those of us that aren't into the whole math scene, that's 3/4 of the way done! Can I get a WOOT WOOT?!? Isn't that wonderful?? I'm super excited because, come on, only 3 more treatments?! I got this in the bag.

After my treatments are finished, which should be July 29, we have to wait a month and then we will do a PET Scan to see if the cancer is gone. And we're just gonna bank on the fact that it will be gone and then we'll be done! :)

Hots and Colds

Life is like a freaking roller coaster! It's SO exciting and SO scary and SO wonderful and SO crazy all wrapped up in one crazy adventure!

I don't really know how I'm feeling about cancer right now, because I'm so up and down about it. It just depends on the day. Or the hour. Or the minute. It's normal. Don't believe me? Here are some highs and lows. These are real things, people. Real. Things.

High: Rocking my Audrey Hepburn hat and getting alllll the likes on the social media. Talk about validation, amiright?!
Low: Looking in the mirror at my bald head, scars, bags under my eyes, and my pale skin, and legitimately feeling textbook-definition-ugly for the first time in my life.

High: Everyone constantly saying how they love you and will always be there for you.
Low: Not wanting to call anyone when you're crying at two in the morning because you can only ask so much of people.

High: Accomplishing a whole lot at school!
Low: Trying to take out the trash, not being able to lift it, and collapsing in tears on the floor.

This is not a picnic. Or if it is, it's the worst freaking picnic ever. I've learned a lot about life and people, though. That sounds like a total cliche, and maybe it is, but it's also totally true. I've learned that sometimes the people who you thought would always be there for you flake out when you need them most. The people you thought would have your back don't even return your calls, and that's really, really, really hard. But on the opposite side, I've learned that sometimes people surprise you. The people you haven't been the best friend to come out of nowhere and give you support and love you couldn't even have imagined. Your real-life BFF's don't give up on you even when you're sad and no fun, and they cry and laugh and call even when you don't want to talk. Your family reaches out and makes sure you aren't ever really alone. People are genuinely GOOD inside, and that is awesome and something that cancer can't take away. I've also learned how important it is to have a purpose and something to fight for. When you're told that you actually have to fight for your life, you kinda wonder why. For me, at least, it made me step back and think about what matters to me and why I love living. Again, sounds cliche, but 100% real. Maybe one day I'll let you in on what I decided about my purpose in life. If you're lucky. ;)

It's a tough ride, people. But guess what? The school year is almost over and I am finishing the year with TWO AND A HALF UNUSED PAID DAYS OFF. This is big. This is like my-pride-and-joy big. When I was diagnosed, I was so worried that I would have to take a leave of absence from teaching because first year teachers don't have short term disability. I had already used one of my sick days, and I used like 4 more on tests and surgeries before treatment even started. That meant I went into chemo with only 9 paid days off I could take. If I used those, I could take a few unpaid days off, but then a leave of absence was really the only option. But guess what, I'm a freaking rock star and I only took one day off after each chemo treatment! And I have no idea how I did it. I do know that pretty much every day since the beginning of chemo I have fought with myself to get out of bed, fought through the day at work, and then come home to take a bath and go to sleep. But I did it! I made it through with paid days to spare. DAYS TO SPARE, PEOPLE. Not to brag, but like, that's super impressive. I'm pretty impressed with myself about that, and I think that's okay, because when you're legit too weak to lift a pickle jar, you gotta find something to be proud of. Suck it, lymphoma.

Hey You Guys!

It's been a while since I posted, because honestly I forgot I had a blog for a few days! How do you forget you have a blog, you ask? Well, try a severe case of chemo brain combined with the end of my first year teaching. Plus I've been writing in my super secret diary like a crazy 7th grader, so I haven't felt the need to write on the blog.

But here I am, writing on the blog again! Want to know something crazy I learned? When I don't write on the blog for a while, there are people who get anxiety and think I'm dying, which is rough. So here's an update!

I had chemo #6 a week and a half ago and the side effects haven't been nearly as bad as chemo #5, so that's super wonderful! Plus my a-maz-ing BFF Farrari knows a dealer and got me some stuff that's really helped. Oh stop your judging people, obviously I'm talking about essential oils. What were you thinking I meant?? ;)
Frankincense has worked wonders on my neuropathy in my feet and peppermint helps with practically everything else, so it's been rockin!

My school held their lymphoma society fundraiser and it was the BEST and I will write about it later.

I'll have chemo #7 on Friday. That's in two days. Gross. I get really nauseous even thinking about it, so Michelle is going to drive me. If she drives me, it means I get to take an anti-anxiety pill before we go, so that will help and life will be good!

I have 7 more days of teaching this year. WHAAAAAAAT. Summer is calling my name, and I'm going to enjoy it all covered up to avoid the sunlight and all isolated to avoid crazy crowds and too sleepy to do anything crazy... yeah... it's gonna be a summer to remember!

...Only 5 more chemos after Friday. And only 67 days until mom and I run our 5K. Watch out, finish line, here we come!!

How to Parent an Adult with Cancer: 401

Cancer is hard! It's hard for me and it's hard for my family. Luckily, I'm surrounded by champs! I do wish there had been some kind of warning label for them before this all started so they knew what they were getting into. So, in true teacher fashion, I created a mock syllabus on what to expect as a parent of a cancer sicky. Enjoy. Or don't. Your choice. ;)

Welcome to the advanced course of How to Parent an Adult with Cancer: 401. If you have not already taken the prerequisite courses (How to Parent a Bald, Chubby Baby: 101, How to Parent a Rambunctious Child: 201, and How to Parent a Stubborn Teenage Girl: 301), this class will be beyond your skill level. Expect this course to include late nights, tears, and plenty of driving time. The course may not be fun, but if we all follow the syllabus, we'll make it through.

Required Materials for this course include:

1. Textbook: The Book of Mormon, The New Testament, The Pearl of Great Price, and The Doctrine and Covenants will be used extensively. The Old Testament will be referred to occasionally, but as it is rather dense, it will not be required reading. You will also be required to conduct multiple internet searches on topics like lymphoma, chemotherapy, and remedies for side effects.

2. Class Fees: The cost of this class varies from month to month, so be prepared to dedicate substantial financial means to your success. Anticipated expenses include: gas money, chemo foods, carpet cleaning supplies, and cheese sticks. Lots of cheese sticks.

Class Assignments:

You will be assigned multiple roles. As this course is happening in real time, assignments are subject to change and the instructor reserves the right to alter or add to the assignment list at any time.

1. Written Reports: Once a week, you will be contacted and asked for information that, more than likely, you don't have. Use your required reading and the internet to compile your answers. Sample questions might include topics such as: sleeping aids, how electricity works, insurance issues, chemo side effects, how to remove the smell of vomit from a car, etc. After compiling your answers, proofread them for correctness. These reports will be delivered via text message.

2. Interpersonal Communication: You will be expected to update and correspond with countless people who are interested in your child's well being. Don't be surprised when you are stopped at the grocery store, church, the gym, work, or your own living room by someone asking, "How is insert child's name here doing??" You need to be prepared with an answer for each person that is polite, honest, positive, and appropriately serious. Throughout the course, you will learn how to alter your answer to fit the following three kinds of people: (1) the curious bystander who will repeat everything you say in their weekly gossip meeting, (2) the caring neighbor who is actually willing to help and listen, and (3) the person who doesn't realize your child has cancer and is about to be emotionally traumatized.

3. Cleaning Assignments: A required part of this course is easing your child's burden, and much of that comes through cleaning. When you visit your child's home, you can expect to clean up messes the likes of which you haven't seen since course 101 - the toddler section. You will also be taking loads of laundry home to wash, dry, fold, and then bring back so that your child doesn't look like a hobo in dirty clothes.

4. Emergency Phone Calls: Due to the nature of this course, you can expect to experience emergency phone calls at every hour of the day. How you respond to these situations will have a great impact on your grade in this course. For example, when your child calls you from outside of chemo sobbing because she has just thrown up all over her beautiful car and is too sick to walk, the ideal response is to hop in your shiny new truck with a carpet cleaner, pick up an aunt along the way, and drive straight to chemo. Take the sick child home and then spend your day cleaning the vomit out of her car as she sleeps. Hey, no one said this class was going to be easy. If you want easy, switch classes now and take "How to Parent a Self-Sufficient Adult who Can Handle Their Own Problems: 101." 

*This syllabus is subject to change due to chemo scheduling, unexpected side effects, mood swings, emotional traumas, or laziness.*

FYI: I give my parents an A+. And I never give A+'s. Just ask my students.

What is Cancer Like? ... Part 2

Hopefully today I'll meet my HALFWAY POINT of chemo treatments. (It was supposed to be last Friday, but instead I had the worst day of my life, because why not?) It's exciting and terrifying. Terrifying because it's been a real life struggle and the second half is going to get worse. I read my first "What is cancer like?" post and realized that it's changed a little since then, so I made another list for you!

Here's more cancer according to Tina:

1. Cancer is finding a balance between being too hot with a hat and too cold without a hat.

2. Cancer is realizing you won't have long, beautiful hair for years.

3. Cancer is not high-fiving people because they have germs.

4. Cancer is lifting the pickle jar out of the fridge with shaking arms and almost dropping it.

5. Cancer is smiling and saying "I'm feeling good!" to everyone you've ever met.

6. Cancer is staring at the ceiling at 3 am. Every night.

7. Cancer is being nauseous whenever you think about chemo.

8. Cancer is looking at vacation destinations on the internet and promising yourself you'll see them in person.

9. Cancer is thinking twice about everything because what if I meet God sooner than I thought?

10. Cancer is not being able to make death jokes without traumatizing people.

11. Cancer is eating the same food over and over again.

12. Cancer is scheduling days when you know you'll be sick.

13. Cancer is having your face on posters all around your school.

14. Cancer is realizing that every little moment is precious and beautiful.

15. Cancer is laughing at things that honestly shouldn't be funny.

16. Cancer is choosing what is really important and focusing on what matters most.

The Real MVP.

Sometimes you have a sister who is 3 years older than you and you get along perfectly your entire lives and you’ve never fought and you are like the exact same person and your parents call you the dream team.

*ahem* enter reality *ahem*

Sometimes you have a sister who is 3 years older than you and as kids you have to share a room and you divide the room in half so they won’t go on your side and you don’t have to clean up the other person’s mess. Sometimes you and your sister are as different as could be, but you both like Harry Potter and Theo James. Sometimes you and your sister are roomies in your twenties and everyone takes bets on how long you’ll last before you kill each other, but *surprise* you’re both still alive!

That’s because Michelle is the real MVP.

I know what you’re thinking. Michelle is soooo lucky to have Tina as a roommate! I bet Tina is just the perfect person to live with!

You’re not wrong. Except that I rarely cook edible food, I hate wearing pants, I’m in a serious relationship with my bed, our whole pantry is full of pickle popcorn, I have full-on-kicking-my-feet-face-down-on-the-ground tantrum moments, I eat Michelle’s Fruit Tootsie Rolls, I never put her DVD’s away in alphabetical order, I only load the dishwasher if I have absolutely nothing else to do, I unplug everything all the time so it doesn’t burn our house down (including her computer that is charging), I almost left the stove burner on this morning before work, and I think laundry is worse than cancer. Other than that, I’m the perfect roommate.

Being serious, though, Michelle is the very best. Like, cancer sucks and I get that it’s hard for my friends and my family to deal with, but Michelle is the one who has to deal with me every. Single. Day. So this girl needs some serious recognition.

She’s the one who has to check on me in the mornings before work to make sure I’m awake - which means she gets up early on days she doesn’t have to just so I can haul my lazy, good-looking bum out of bed. That’s a big deal.

She acts like it’s normal that I talk to my fish. And my phone. And my bed. And my stuffed animal.

She goes to game nights and parties and ward activities on her own because I’m too sick or too tired.

She is always going to the store and buying whatever sounds good to me at the moment because I’m basically a crazy person when it come to my appetite.

She puts up with my crazy mood swings.

She makes me food even after she’s been working all day.

She lets me take over the living room and watch movies and do puzzles.

She pays the rent, on time, EVERY MONTH. Like, if it were up to me to remember, we’d be living in a box with hobo Joe.

She makes sure I don’t overdose on medication.

She usually doesn’t tell me gross poop stories or stories about brain drains while I’m eating.

She comes home from a long day at work and lets me go to bed at 7 pm just because I’m tired and she’s the greatest.

She lets me write her profile on dating websites. Which, by the way, I am rocking at, and I will gladly offer my profile-writing-services for a small fee.

She doesn’t even draw on my face when I fall asleep during every single movie we watch.

She throws away all the weird food I buy in my chemo-stupor and then never eat.

She cleans the house when people are coming over.

She goes all the way to the office to get my packages like a super sexy mail carrier. *Men - she’s available!*

She drives all the way to my work in the middle of the day when I forget my mouth spray and I’m dying. (Not literally dying. You get cancer and suddenly no one thinks dying jokes are funny anymore. It's the weirdest thing.)

She calls me from the grocery store to make sure the food she wants to make won’t make me throw up.

She keeps me from buying twenty bags of lettuce for our munch-n-mingles because obviously three is plenty.

She lets me wear her whole closet. And by “lets me wear” I mean I go to her closet after she leaves for work and decide what I want to wear that day, and then she doesn’t kill me when she comes home and I’m modeling all of her clothes.

I’m not even a little bit exaggerating when I say that I don’t think I could survive this whole cancer thing without Michelle. That’s the real, honest truth. She is incredibly strong and kind at the same time and I’m the luckiest person on this here earth to have her as my big sister. I want to be Michelle* when I grow up.

*Minus the icky gross nursing part of her life. Besides that, I want to be Michelle when I grow up.