I painted my nails tonight.
The last time I did that was November 18, 2012. I know this because it was the night of my school's Thanksgiving Dinner, the night I left early, the night I didn't sleep at all because my stomach was (literally, as I now know) in knots.
That night, I was planning on leaving to go to Utila in a week. I was excited for the upcoming break.
And sometimes it feels like that's the point where everything fell apart.
And I know it didn't really fall apart. Things have worked out and are working out and I've been back at school for three and a half weeks and they found the secret cancer and I'm going to Utila tomorrow.
But painting my toenails is scary. Wearing that dress again for the first time was scary. Planning to go to Utila is scary.
Because my brain knows how quickly things can change, how something can go wrong when you least expect it.
But I choose to paint my toenails. And plan on leaving for Utila in the morning. And to move forward, because sometimes things fall apart. But that doesn't mean they can't fall back together.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Thursday, March 7, 2013
One Month Later
Today is my one month antiversary with cancer and a section of my large intestine.
It also marks 6 days back at school, 16 days from my trip to go get scuba certified, and a month from being 3/4 of the way done with my first year of teaching.
Crazy, right?
Yet, not crazy at all. in fact, today was a normal day. The best one this week, but still normal. I taught some, I planned some, and went to some meetings with staff and parents. No falls, no tears. my students even noticed that my smile was real today! I went over to a dear friend's house for delicious dinner tonight. I watched Glee with my wonderful housemates.
And I just find myself feeling so thankful for normal and good. I almost feel like there's a lack of things to blog about... and a little bit I just wanted to celebrate that feeling.
Happy Antiversary, cancer.
It also marks 6 days back at school, 16 days from my trip to go get scuba certified, and a month from being 3/4 of the way done with my first year of teaching.
Crazy, right?
Yet, not crazy at all. in fact, today was a normal day. The best one this week, but still normal. I taught some, I planned some, and went to some meetings with staff and parents. No falls, no tears. my students even noticed that my smile was real today! I went over to a dear friend's house for delicious dinner tonight. I watched Glee with my wonderful housemates.
And I just find myself feeling so thankful for normal and good. I almost feel like there's a lack of things to blog about... and a little bit I just wanted to celebrate that feeling.
Happy Antiversary, cancer.
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Being Back and making meaning
In my last post, I attempted to examine my real reasons for hating staying home. And I spent some time with God admitting motivations. Not a lot of time though, because there was work to do and websites to click through. Have to be honest about my priorities... even when it's embarrassing.
Later that day, I got a phone call (which I missed, so really a text message) saying that the doctor's note had been received and I could go back to work with no restrictions starting the next day. And I did. And I worked all three days with no major pain, and even worked a spelling bee on Saturday.
And it felt good to be back, even though my frustrating classes are still frustrating and other things about school are still frustrating. It was good to sit in my chair, to see my students and colleagues, to attempt explanations and write on the board, to laugh around other people instead of at home by myself.
And I'm not going to lie... I felt more meaningful the rest of the week. Like maybe my life is maybe worth living, maybe. And maybe I am awesome. And maybe I can find all my value in teaching. Hooray for all that!
And then on Friday I got some covenant notes from students. They wrote them in Bible Class, and, don't get me wrong, I got some very sweet ones from students who admitted to passing notes in class or talking when they aren't supposed to and they gave me suggestions for punishing them. But I also got one that said (crossed out, so this is partially my fault for making out the words below) "I don't like your class because you think you're funny but you're not," and three others that said things like "I know I don't have a bad relationship with you and I like you a lot, but I think you are the teacher who needs the most help so I'll work on making my classmates quiet and if I don't do that I can grade all the homework for you." Which is also really sweet.
But also it was a blow for my pride, and my self-esteem, and my meaningfulness. The teacher who needs the most help? Out of all the teachers? Is it really that obvious?
When I can pretend I'm able to do this on my own strength, I also pretend that I stop needing God. You'd think that secret cancer and 2 months of sitting at home would have been enough to remind me that I'm not invincible for at least a year or two, right?
But a day or two back into school and I was pretty proud of myself for my quick recovery and for being ready to take on the world again. Oh Ms. Kroon. When will you learn?
Later that day, I got a phone call (which I missed, so really a text message) saying that the doctor's note had been received and I could go back to work with no restrictions starting the next day. And I did. And I worked all three days with no major pain, and even worked a spelling bee on Saturday.
And it felt good to be back, even though my frustrating classes are still frustrating and other things about school are still frustrating. It was good to sit in my chair, to see my students and colleagues, to attempt explanations and write on the board, to laugh around other people instead of at home by myself.
And I'm not going to lie... I felt more meaningful the rest of the week. Like maybe my life is maybe worth living, maybe. And maybe I am awesome. And maybe I can find all my value in teaching. Hooray for all that!
And then on Friday I got some covenant notes from students. They wrote them in Bible Class, and, don't get me wrong, I got some very sweet ones from students who admitted to passing notes in class or talking when they aren't supposed to and they gave me suggestions for punishing them. But I also got one that said (crossed out, so this is partially my fault for making out the words below) "I don't like your class because you think you're funny but you're not," and three others that said things like "I know I don't have a bad relationship with you and I like you a lot, but I think you are the teacher who needs the most help so I'll work on making my classmates quiet and if I don't do that I can grade all the homework for you." Which is also really sweet.
But also it was a blow for my pride, and my self-esteem, and my meaningfulness. The teacher who needs the most help? Out of all the teachers? Is it really that obvious?
When I can pretend I'm able to do this on my own strength, I also pretend that I stop needing God. You'd think that secret cancer and 2 months of sitting at home would have been enough to remind me that I'm not invincible for at least a year or two, right?
But a day or two back into school and I was pretty proud of myself for my quick recovery and for being ready to take on the world again. Oh Ms. Kroon. When will you learn?
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