The Magic of Life and Family

Sorry today's post doesn't have cool words like Cancer, Effexor, Lupron, Zolodex and all that Cancer shit I write about ad nauseam.   Nope, today the Effing Evil Empire takes a back seat to a copy of someone else's blog.  The person that wrote the blog below obviously gets the magic of life and the season.  Grab a Kleenex. You will need it.  Oh, by the way, perhaps I needed more Kleenex than most...it's my daughters post.

Family - The Gift That Keeps on Giving

This is the season of gift giving.  I have been spending a lot of time trying to figure out what I'm going to get people for Christmas.  I'm really weird about gifts.  I feel like they need to mean something and not just be another item.  They either need to be useful or have some sort of sentimental value.  That requirement combined with my indecisiveness makes gift giving rather hard.

I started a new book last night of short stories about gifts that mothers give their daughters.  I'll admit, as much as I don't want any more kids, it always makes me a little bit sad that I won't ever have a daughter to be my best friend the way that my mom is my best friend.  That's neither here nor there, the point is, I started thinking about the gifts that I have received from family that aren't tangible things or are items that hold more sentimental value than anything else.

One actual thing that comes to mind specifically is my Grandma Kay's pie plates.  I'm not sure why they are so important to me but they are.  Almost more important than the actual pie plate is the fact that her name is scrawled on the bottom in her almost illegible, left handed handwriting.  I know that someday the permanent marker will wear off and her name won't be there anymore but I know that I'll always be able to see her name written on the bottom of those two white pie plates, even when it's gone.

My Grandpa Ernie's gift is always his hug.  He gives the best hugs I have ever been given.  My dad takes after him in that way but he still hasn't perfected the art of a Grandpa Ernie hug.  Grandpa's hugs go on forever and they are tight and solid and you just don't ever want to let go.  Those hugs are more important than any birthday check or wrapped gift at Christmas.  I love walking in to may parents house when I know that my grandparents are visiting to get that first hug from Grandpa.  It doesn't hurt anything that in addition to giving the best hugs ever Grandpa is hilarious.

Morgan, my brother, and I don't always get along great.  We get along a whole lot better the older we get. At some point, probably within the last year, we have developed a sense of camaraderie that we never had before.  I think that the most important gift that he gives me is the knowledge that I have backup in the face of the rest of the family, heck in the face of anyone.  We understand each other when no one else understands us.  We have the ability to gang up on people in such a way that makes them want to cover their ears, close their eyes and rock back and forth.  We typically only use our skills for good.  But we always know that we could go the evil route if we wanted to.

My parents have obviously given me the most important gifts of all.  Their unwavering support. Their unconditional love. The knowledge that it's okay to be weird and that different isn't bad.  They made sure that I knew growing up, and still know, that I can do anything I put my mind to. Dad gave me his love for numbers and his logical way of approaching situations, as long as emotion isn't involved.  Mom gave me her OCD and her sense of loyalty.

Obviously they have both given me so much more than that but I think the most important thing that I got from both of them is Magic.  It sounds weird but there has never been a time in my life where I didn't believe in magic.  Maybe not the cast a spell, dance under the moon naked and make something happen magic but other kinds.  The sense of magic on Christmas morning when the stockings are filled.  The magic of a quiet summer morning.  The fact that every time I see a crow watching me I think that it's helping dad make sure I'm okay.  The magic of love.

Love is magic and my parents is more magic then most.  They never gave up.  Obviously through 33 years there is going to be all kinds of ups and downs, trials and tribulations.  Probably more so the past four years than the prior 29.  But there they are; arguing, bickering, ignoring each other, supporting each other, taking care of each other and loving each other. Maybe that's why neither of my marriages worked.  They didn't have the magic that my parents taught me to expect.

So, even though we don't get to choose our families, I feel as though based on the gifts mine have given me, I got pretty lucky. 

Effexor: Does the Cure Become The Curse

I need to take a break from my "Cannabis For Us Oldsters" posts due to a fairly recent brush with "I think I need to go to the emergency room" scare.  Well it scared me at least.  Please remember everyone is built different and reacts differently to each and every prescribed drug.  Thus the manly voice with machine gun verbosity at the end of every T.V. drug commercial extolling why you wouldn't take the advertised drug.

I've been fortunate to have, except for one, the greatest doctors and medical care since I was diagnosed. The one exception?  A crotchety urologist who thought humor was during my biopsy saying "really my thumbs aren't getting larger."  Yuck fucking Yuck.  Jimmy Fallon look out.  By the time he was done explaining my malady I was pretty sure I would be dead before I even made it across the parking lot to my car.  Eighteen months Doc?  Guess what.

Prescription wise, I have dutifully, taken anything my doctors have told me to take.  For some inexplicable reason I seem to frequently fall into the "in only 1% of cases such and such including such and such has been reported." of adverse effects.

Recently, after a visit to my Onc where I complained about mild depression, she suggested Effexor.  A drug prescribed to depressed breast cancer patients that has the added advantage of controlling the insane hot flashes that come with hormone therapy.

Please note.  I am not a doctor.  All I can tell you is what happened to me and make a point.

Of course that sounded great to me and I walked out of the office prescription in hand.  I even emailed a very close friend whom unfortunately is also a Cancer buddy asking if she had ever taken Effexor.  Her reply was that the drug had helped her quite a bit.

I'm not going to bore you with what happened when I took the drug [only two doses].  Fortunately before I slit my wrists or headed to the emergency room my caregiver went to the internet and found comments left by others who had taken the drug without happy results.  This saved money because once I learned that others had hallucinated their brain falling onto the living room carpet or similar I adopted my old 1970's attitude of just riding a bad trip out.  What else are you going to do?

My point.  I didn't do due diligence.  I didn't read, as I, or my caregiver had in the past, what the side effects could, or in this case would be.  Just because your Doc writes the scrip please remember if you are statistically probable as terminal your Docs are probably writing a scrip that are probably pretty damn powerful.  

Doctors are very smart people.  So are you.  Ask, advocate and take action.  Read the side effects.  Feel free to wonder if the benefits out weigh the risks.  

Sometimes the cure can become the curse.  

Talk to you later.