thanks a lot

Trey and I, at our best.

So it's been a while. This semester has kicked my ass seven ways from Sunday. Everyone is feeling it, and Thanksgiving break could not come at a better time. This year, the holiday season is disorienting a little bit. Last year it was full of grief, sickness, anticipatory mourning, sadness and death. From Thanksgiving right on up through Jan 1. It is weird to be back in the "normal" world, if that makes sense. For the first time, I will not be going to my aunt's for Thanksgiving. This is odd to me. I'm still trying to wrap my brain around it. Because this time last year, each of us had our thing we were bringing for dinner. I think the whole thing still surprises me and catches me off guard.

That being said, I am very thankful for so many things this year.
1. as always, my nephew Trey
2. my family, for everything - really
3. my health - even with the recent Essential Tremor dx, I am thankful that it is not a bad tremor and that I am in the hands of such a great doctor
4. memories

It feels odd to make a list, because there's so much going on in my head that I am thankful for all of it and nothing is coming out right. Life has been discouraging and frustrating lately. But I'm alive. I still get a smile on my face when "Fame" comes on my iPod when I'm walking to school or on the subway. Or when "Sweet Child O'Mine" comes on, and I remember singing to Trey as a baby. I am thankful for friends who have stood the test of time, and for sorority sisters who, even after 10 years of no contact, will offer to drive you if you need to go anywhere because of your health stuff. I am thankful for my Narrative Medicine people. For professors who go the extra mile. For established writers who make time for "nobodies" - you guys are my rock stars, pretty much. For J.Crew, aka Garanimals for adults. For Starbucks red cups. For my Jeep. For the books whose pages I've dogeared and passages I've underlined so many times the pen bleeds through the page. For Carolina blue and being a Tar Heel. For monogramming. I'm thankful that my brother has made such a wonderful life for himself and is a wonderful daddy. For people who saw me apply to this MFA program 6 years ago and not get in, and are taking this journey with me now. I am thankful for music. For the feel of Trey's hand in mine and his excitement as we went to the "liberry" for the first time. I am thankful that I didn't give up this crazy dream of being a writer. I'm thankful for grace.

Grace.

Limited time only.

What would you do if you were told you had weeks to live? We've all thought about this at one point or another in our lives - "If I had 6 months to live," "If I had a month to live..." But what happens if you find yourself in a situation where you are faced with exactly that? My aunt will be going home on hospice sometime this week, after living with ovarian cancer for two years. Her oncologist said she has weeks. I keep thinking about hearing those words, and how scary it must be, late at night, lost in your own thoughts knowing your time is limited. Granted, all of us have limited time here, but to be told a quantifiable number is beyond comprehension. Because realistically, she is weak. On a feeding tube. Sick. Forget all those things you'd think you'd do - go here and there, eat this and that - what if you can't do that in the time you have left?

We like to talk about a "good death," or "dying with dignity." And I'm all for that. I am all for palliative medicine and not using extreme measures at the end of life that are only going to cause pain and suffering. I am all for dying at home, with loved ones by your side, being lucid enough to be able to tell everyone how you feel. But really, when you think about it, when it comes, it is really good? Is there such a thing as a good death? I don't know. Maybe it's something personal for each person, and only you can be the judge of what is "good."

And as schmaltzy as it sounds, why wait until you hear that from a doctor? By that point, there are good odds you might not be able to do all those things on your "Bucket List." One of the many reasons I chose to follow my passion and write is because I realized that life is short. Why waste the time I have on earth doing something I'm not crazy about? I think lots of people put things off until they "have time," or "when the time is right," or whatever. And planning and responsibility is a good thing - but some people, myself included - tend to get so busy in the planning and worrying and waiting that we miss our chance.

Last year on my birthday, I vowed that my thirties would be about abundance, about making choices based in love and hope instead of fear. So far, it has been a struggle, but the choices I have made from those places have paid off exponentially. I don't want to turn 40 and say "I wish I'd done that." G-d forbid I get sick and am told I have limited time, I don't want to lay in the hospital and fiercely wish I'd done certain things.

Thanksgiving is coming up, and lots of people take the time to think about what they're thankful for. An "attitude of gratitude," if you will. Because when you are filled with gratitude, it's hard to feel anything like emptiness or sadness. This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my entire family, my new friends in NY, supportive people, my health and my life.

What more is there?

gratitude.

Thanksgiving is this Thursday, and I am going up North tomorrow. I am excited, but also bittersweetly sad. My aunt has end-stage cancer and now weighs under 100 pounds (and is about my height, 5'6", maybe an inch or two taller), so it's not looking good. My grandparents are getting older - at my age, I am very, very lucky to have three living grandparents - and I don't get to come up North as often as I'd like. I'm excited to see my nephew, who always brings a smile to my face and joy to my heart.

This year has been an eventful year - more so than I would have hoped - but this Thanksgiving, I am very thankful for many things. I am thankful for my health. After two foot surgeries in eight months, I am finally starting to feel like my foot is going to be okay, and I am starting to walk pretty well again. I am thankful for my family, for all of their help and encouragement and support. I'm thankful that I took the risk and followed my heart, committing to writing, even though it scares the hell out of me most days. I am thankful for the family I babysit for down here, who have welcomed me into their family over the past 2 years and bring a smile to my face and make me laugh. I am thankful for friends who remind me of all the goodness out there in the world. I am thankful to all my mentors and guides on this path called life, who have encouraged my writing, believed in me, let me make my own mistakes so I could learn, and who have shown me all the possibilities for the future. I am thankful to be alive, because if anything, the past week has shown me that life is truly a gift. I am learning not to put things off until I have a "real" life, and to live in the moment without regret. This year has been hard physically, emotionally and spiritually, but as the writer Audre Lorde once wrote, "But of course it is out of Chaos that new worlds are born."

Grief and Hope

Someone emailed me over the summer with the words Grief and hope are not mutually exclusive, Jaime...and I've tried to keep that in mind. She said it doesn't make sense if you approach it "logically"; it's something that you have to approach from the heart. Which can be hard for me, since I like things to have reasons and explanations and clear boundries and paths. What does the coexistence of grief and hope look like? I've been trying to figure that out. Does it look like the woman who knows there is a good chance this might be her last Thanksgiving, but still pushes ahead for treatments? Does it look like the girl who is holding out hope for a miracle, but with her oncology knowledge, knows that's not going to happen and it pains her to watch? Or does it look like the man who stands silently to the side, waiting for the right moment to lay it all out on the table for her knowledge? I think we all know what grief looks like; the crying oneself to sleep, or crying in the shower, the anger and fury that comes out as a response to a seemingly random diagnosis or outcome. We are all familiar with that dazed feeling of how did I get here? was it only yesterday the world was normal? But that was yesterday, and after today, nothing is ever the same.

I am going up North tomorrow for Thanksgiving, and my bags are full of hope and grief. This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my family that I have right now, the fact that I have three grandparents, two parents, an aunt, 3 cousins, a brother and a nephew. I am thankful they are all alive here to celebrate with me this year. I am going to concentrate on living in the moment, because that's all we have right now - that's all anyone has, really. But Stage IV cancer has that nasty habit of bringing things to the surface, and this fact is no different.

I really, really hate Stage IV cancer.

memories.

It's Easter. But I'm Jewish, so I don't celebrate it. But since half of my family is Roman Catholic, so we'd always go to those grandparents' house for Easter. A few weeks ago I was in CVS and found the Easter eggs my grandfather used to hide for us. They're pure sugar, but I love them. So I bought them, and just ate one, and it brought back so many memories. Memories of simpler times. Before people got cancer, before people died. My brother, my cousin, and I would run around the acre + yard and practically tackle each other to get the most Easter eggs. We would all eat our Easter candy that was overflowing from our baskets, not worrying about being fat or the calories, just trying to trade each other for the candy we loved. And then the rigatoni with the homemade "gravy", as Nana calls it. ('Cause that's the REAL Italian way).

Last week, Passover started, and I really missed being with my family. This year especially, I acutely felt the distance. I missed my grandmother's matzoh ball soup, and making latkes, and explaining the seder plate....I missed outsmarting my brother to get the Afikoman. And the yummy Passover chocolate chip bread, and the cookies....mmmmm. I especially regret that I'm not there to see my nephew during Passover and Easter. He'll be 2 on friday and I could just soak him up all day. 

I wasn't sure how I felt about the holidays this year. I believe in G-d, I have faith......but lately, I kind of think G-d's on my shitlist. And I shouldn't say that. I know I shouldn't. But when bad things happen to good people, when medicine fails, when children get sick, when dreams don't come true despite hard work....I just don't understand. Eventually I always come around and realize G-d isn't really responsible for all that, but still....I was listening to Fireflight, and there's a line in one of their songs - I think this is it - "...faith is moving without knowing...". And to a certain extent, I'm struggling with that in general, I think. My life is up in the air right now. My future has been turned upside down. Don't think that just because I go to class and the gym and do my schoolwork and dress cute that I am over the PhD failure. Don't think that for one minute. I have to fight those feelings every day, still. And I probably will until I am accepted next year (hopefully). I don't know if I will have a job. I don't know where I will live. I am running out of money soon, with not even a summer nanny job on the horizon. I really am trying to let go and believe things happen for a reason, that some sort of faith will help. 

to the customers at the B&N in Durham:

The people who are wrapping gifts for donations do NOT mean that they will wrap your whole 3 big shopping bags of B&N goodies for your lousy donation of a dollar or two. And the people behind you do not appreciate it when you have a stack - yes, a STACK - of books and DVDs awaiting wrapping, with bags of unwrapped things on the floor, while a line forms behind you. Buy your own wrapping paper, you cheapskate. 

Also, when you go to wait in line for the cashier - yes, there is a sign that says "line up here" with an arrow. But that does NOT mean the line goes straight into the aisles of the bookstore. There is an aisle that is cleared parallel to the registers explicitly for this reason. There is no good reason why people should think that the link would snake around aisles of the bookstore while the aisle near the registers is free and clear. 

and don't think I'm letting you customers at Starbucks off so easy, either - if you don't know what you want, don't get in line and stand up at the register endlessly debating drinks! There are people behind you who need their caffeine fix and are getting more annoyed by the minute at you. step out of line, figure out what you want, and get back in line. 

thank you.