A Sugary Child

5:46 a.m.

I wander over to the shrine aka my coffeepot. Three scoops of Cinnamon Swirl Folger’s coffee is dropped into an innocent filter and two cups of water are poured into an opening so that my potion can be concocted.

In minutes the brew is done, almost. The wateriness of the liquid proves to be unappetizing and I dump spoonful after spoonful of sugar into the cup, stir, then add chocolate creamer liberally. Sugar is magical and the coffee drippings becom liquid happiness. Then I realize something. Not just anything, a truth of life.

We grow older. We change. But we can never erase the child in us, no matter how much we try to. The past is, and will always be, a part of us. It is what made us into who we are. When I sugared up my coffee, I traveled back in time to a morning in my childhood where cheerios were all that was left in the cupboard. Not honey nut cheerios, just plain, old, excitement-is-for-the-weak cheerios. Yet sugar was able to do wonders for the bland cereal. It had my back then as it does now.

I may be older, but I still believe in the childhood tactics for creating deliciousness. Don’t ignore the child within you, sometimes it can be your best friend.

PB&J...Goes together like peas and carrots

Dancing in Heaven

Heaven? Could be...

My step-grandma died this past week, and as a result, I haven’t really accomplished anything. She was one of those rare people who gives themselves entirely to others. I’ve never heard of a moment in her life where she put herself before her family or anybody. When the bank took away the farm, she still found a way of making sure her eight kids had food and clothes.

When I heard about her death through a voice message, I was both angry and relieved. She had endured so much pain in the last year, pain that nobody should ever have to experience. Mary Ellen had diabetes which caused all sorts of problems for her in the last 15 years, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, she started getting blood clots, having strokes, and then developed cancer. Everybody has to go some time, but do they have to suffer this much? Her and my step-grandpa couldn’t afford chemotherapy and had no way of battling the disease. Why has an inflated price tag been placed on necessary treatment? Is there a good reason why the United States can’t provide free health-care to everyone? Canada and several European nations do, why can’t we.

These thoughts ran through my head this past week, and still do at times. Yes, she suffered greatly. Yes, I wish she could’ve experienced one last moment without pain before she went. But I just have to find comfort in knowing that she doesn’t have to suffer anymore. My peace came Friday when the joyful notes of polka music filled the funeral home. She loved polka music and she would go to the polka dance every weekend with my step-grandpa, even after she developed a prolapsed uterus. When I first heard the accordion, I didn’t know if I should smile or cry. I was still upset by her suffering, but the music reminded me of the happiness that she had experienced.

I looked to the front of the room and saw her face. She seemed as if she was finally at peace. It was then that I knew I could stop grieving over her suffering and death. She was in heaven, dancing.

Don’t Delay

I’m sure all of us have seen the commercials on tv of women talking about human papillomavirus (HPV) and urging them to get vaccinated. Do it. I wish that I had.

I had my postpartum Pap smear in October and the doctor made it sound like everything was as it should be. Having had faith in my doctor’s opinion, I wasn’t too worried about not receiving a call about the results. I assumed that because they hadn’t called me, the test had come back normal. I was wrong.

A few weeks after my apointment, I brought my daughter to the clinic for her two month appointment. While the nurse was giving me an overview of what was going to be done, she told me that I would need to schedule a colposcopy. My Pap smear had come back abnormal and if nothing showed up during the colposcopy, I would need another Pap smear in six months to make sure that nothing had popped up again. If something did show up, we would find a way of treating it. 

 At first I was angry that they didn’t tell me of the results sooner, then I became worried. What was wrong? I fought back my tears as I heard her tell me this and I looked at my little girl. Did I have cancer? Would I be able to see her grow up? These thoughts haunted me for three months until I finally got my colposcopy. Fears three degrees left of my worst were confirmed by the nurse. She told me that the abnormal Pap smear tested positive for a high-risk  type of HPV known to cause cervical cancer. She went over the procedures and she assured me that if anything was found, we’d be able to treat it quickly.

Unfortunately, something did show up and they had to take a biopsy. The doctor said the abnormal tissue looked minor and we should be able to treat it. Yet, even with his optimism, I find it hard to remain calm. The week of waiting for the results is going to be a struggle in itself.

Motherhood

I’ve known that I wanted to be a mom for a long time, I just didn’t expect to be one already. It’s made me evaluate my actions in ways that I’ve never done before. I live for my daughter and nothing brings me greater happiness than her smiles or her achievements of milestone moments. Two days ago she proved that she was able to stand with only a footstool for support. It’s crazy all the things we take for granted and how little we realize that such things take a lot of effort, especially for a baby only a little over four months.

Penelope makes me want to be a better person and become more involved with the world. I want to make it a better place for her to live in.