My kick-ass sister-in-law

Many of you will remember Katherine from one of my old posts (see here and here, for example).  She is married to Eli's brother Andy which makes her - you guessed it! - my sister-in-law.  She is 38 years old (her birthday is New Year's Day which is so easy to remember you could send her an email -- you should, it would be adorable if my blog could give Katherine a flood of birthday emails) and she is a professor of geography (which does not just entail studying maps though I'm certain she knows maps generally much better than I do, just ask Eli about our recent conversation about the implications of bombing Syria in Lebanon).  She has two daughters, two stepdaughters (see the links at the top of this post) and guess what else she has?

Triple negative breast cancer.

Can you even believe it?  I cannot.  But apparently 7% of women diagnosed with breast cancer are under 40.

It feels weird and somewhat self-centered to write about my experience of Katherine's cancer, particularly when she has written detailed updates to her friends and family and then written lengthy email responses to my follow-up questions.  But, I asked Katherine if I could do a post about her and she said yes and that I could write whatever I want.  She believes that positive energy helps, and also that she thinks it's an important story for others to read as her diagnosis was such a shock.  (So after you read this, think healthy thoughts toward Atlanta and then go do your breast exam.)

Onward.

Katherine was diagnosed early this month and she had her first chemo treatment a week ago.  Luckily the cancer is not in her lymph nodes.  She doesn't know yet if she has the genetic mutation that will require mastectomies as well as (likely) removal of her ovaries.  (Only 10% of breast cancers are associated with this type of mutation.)

She hasn't lost her hair yet but expects to lose it right around the time of her second treatment which will this coming Friday, October 4th.  Each chemo treatment takes three hours, and she sits in a chair that is a cross between a dental chair and a seat in first class.  She is getting a port for future treatments, but opted not to have one the first time and so she had the medications injected into her left wrist.  This is because, had she opted not to get the port, the treatments would move up her arm as the veins collapsed.

She'll have eight chemotherapy treatments, one every two weeks, but the drugs change after the first four treatments.  Right now she receives adriamyacin and cyclophosphamide; later she'll be given taxol.  Before she gets these drugs, she gets anti-nausea medicine.  This was surprising to me because I thought that chemotherapy meant throwing up but as far as I know (and I was pretty irritating so I had a lot of updates), Katherine never vomited!  (That right there is called a silver lining.)

Anyway, there are many things I didn't know about chemo (and many I still do not know), but one of the most disturbing is that after Katherine has chemo, she has to have a dedicated bathroom in her house because the adriamyacin is so toxic that if any family members come in contact with her bodily fluids, they have to see a doctor.

While I know that this experience has been rough, Katherine has amazed me by never failing to emphasize the positive parts of this experience:

In response to my (incredibly sensitive and delicately-worded) question asking about her post-treatment life:

"In fact, I spoke with a colleague the other day who was diagnosed with breast cancer at 40 (17 years ago--but hers was hormone receptor-positive--not triple negative), and she thought after she hit the 5 year mark that she was clear.  She ended up on a medication regimen for another 5 years (hormone-receptive cases get hormone treatment for years) and is now participating in a clinical trial of different medication.  She said it basically never ends.  But the lessons or the appreciation, wisdom, whatever, don't end, either."

After the first chemo treatment:

"I have to say that your calls, texts, and emails were the highlight of my day.  In fact, the only thing I "did" while in that chair for five (wow!) hours (besides talking to Andy and the nurse) was to stare at my phone, reading about the world, my family and friends.   So thank you."

Since the day Katherine had an appointment with a surgical oncologist who said that her cancer is "treatable and curable", I have been confident that she will be okay.  But I spend hours in the car each day and Katherine's diagnosis has been on my mind all. the. time.  Sometimes I think about how unbelievable it is, and other times, I make myself feel guilty for feeling dissatisfaction with my own life because, really, what do I have to be grumpy about?  A few minutes before I arrive, I inevitably end up in the same place:  Katherine has cancer and she is doing everything she possibly can to fight it and she has great care and she's going to beat it.

But it still sucks. 

Tommy and the Magic Faraway Tree

Since we moved to Muscat in January, I have been reading aloud to the kids at night from my favorite children's chapter books.  We started with "Charlotte's Web" because it's so sweet (until you get to the parts about Wilbur being eaten, and Charlotte dying), and then moved onto the first Harry Potter book.

We recently started reading a series of books by Enid Blyton. Tommy's kindergarden teacher read them to the class and told the parents how much the class enjoyed them.  (That's about all it takes to make me click 'purchase' on amazon.  I show no restraint whatsoever when faced with children's books and that's why we needed a forty foot container for this move (it wasn't full, but it might be when we leave as I have continued to buy children's books; it is a sickness).)

Anyway, we had to buy them on amazon.co.uk and then Eli brought them back after he was in London for a meeting.  When the kids and I returned to Muscat, we started reading them and both kids just love them.  Here are some photos of Tommy listening to me read before bed.


Tommy loves these books so much that he comes into our room in the morning with it and asks for "just a chapter."  (Friends, a chapter of a book that is all text can take quite a while to read - normally more time than we have in the morning.)

I know that Lizzie doesn't understand them quite as well, but the characters have sort of morphed into imaginary friends (one of whom I slammed in the car door the other day if you can believe it?).

PS:  Tommy seems to have settled into first grade and is quite happy doing soccer and karate after school two days per week.  I try to get to school ten minutes early so he can go outside and play before he starts the day and he really loves it: throws his backpack in his locker and sprints down the hall (in violation of school rules).

Back to the grocery store

You want to know the post people most often have commented on since I moved to Muscat? This one.  So today we're going back to the grocery store.

Carrefour has a new produce section.  Actually it has two of them, but I didn't take a photo of the organic section because I thought that the new "FRESH COMING BY AIR FLIGHT" section was depressing enough.  The funniest thing is that the environmental atrocity that is the air flight section is right next to one of the best parts of grocery shopping in Muscat:  the eggs.  My friends, we get some deliciously fresh eggs here, and I eat at least one per day.  They have feathers stuck on them, and as my friend Kathy commented, "they taste how eggs are supposed to taste."

My favorite thing about Muscat grocery shopping (and also Whole Foods grocery shopping, ha) is that the country of origin is posted alongside the produce price.  This photo shows you the two items I buy from China.

Lizzie's Impression of MOI

Yesterday, Lizzie and I baked cookies.  As we were finishing up, we had the following conversation:

L:  When I grow up I'm going to help you make cookies.

Me:  And what else?

L:  Clean the kitchen!

Me:  And what else?

L:  Put the closets away!  (I think this means put away clean laundry, but not sure.)
 
Me:  And what else?

L:  Get angrier and angrier...

I choose to laugh at this, although it is depressing on two levels if I allow myself to really consider it.  First, that she does not consider me to do anything apart from housework, but ALSO that clearly I'm a little bit crappy at stay-at-home-motherhood because she's totally right!  I do get mad at them at least once a day!  (The listening and following instructions around here is a little bit horrifying lately, so we're going to take some time tomorrow to re-implement the marble jar.)

Unsettling

Yesterday morning I had to meet another mother at school, and she was caught in traffic.  The library has lots of great magazines -- most especially The New Yorker -- and so I told her to meet me there.  I was well into an article about a guy who donates (donated? didn't get to finish) copies of art work to various museums, when a voice on the loudspeaker came on and announced a "Shelter In Place" drill.

Hmm.  I wondered.  What is that?

And then the head librarian shooed all of us into a room within the library, turned off all the lights, and locked the door.  We sat in silence for about three minutes.

During the first five seconds, I actually started crying (thank god I was quiet because I was in there with a pack of high school girls), thinking how completely crazy we are to live in a place where we contemplate (and practice for!) situations in which we would all need to hide (presumably from someone who got through the two very thick walls and with strong gates and into the school).  I wondered what Lizzie's teacher was telling the little kids to keep them quiet? And where was Tommy and was this unsettling at all for him?

And then I thought about the Navy Yard massacre and felt for one moment a bit better because, damn, these things happen in the US all. the. time. and the kids' school here is incredibly safe.  And then after that flicker of feeling better I felt completely depressed because, my god, isn't there anywhere you can raise your kids and feel like they are safe?  (This train of thought is indicative of my mental state lately; optimism and 'the bright side' are hard to come by.)

At pick up, I asked Lizzie's teacher about the drill and she explained that they go in a corner of the classroom, pull all the blinds, turn out the lights, lock all the doors (Lizzie's classroom has doors onto the playground as well as into the hall) and then play the "let's all be very, very quiet game."  When Tommy arrived home after soccer practice, I asked him about the drill and he said they all went against the cupboards and were really quiet.  I asked him what the drill was for.  He said, "for if the bad guys get into school, of course" but in a very matter-of-fact, not-at-all-worried way.

So I've decided for the moment that this is one of those things that falls into the same category as Lizzie thinking that every screen is a touch screen:  a difference in the world that my kids will always know and be used to.  I still know what to do if there's an earthquake; they'll always know what to do if bad guys gain access to their school.  This is just the way things are.

Hummingbirds in Oman

So do you remember this post? Wherein I wrote about all the hummingbirds we have here and how much they make me think of my grandma?

Guess what.

There are no hummingbirds in Oman; just sun birds.  And they are certainly pretty little birds, but according to the professor at University of Wyoming who shared this information with me, they do not flutter their wings as quickly as hummingbirds.

So most of you know that Tommy's favorite things in the world currently are (1) ninjas and (2) raptors.  About a week ago, I managed to find the Oman Bird book, and gave it to Tommy.  When I can get a moment with the book, I will look up the sun bird situation and let you know what I discover.

But isn't that sort of a bummer?  It's almost as much of a bummer as when a hummingbird flew into my parents' window this summer and died.

We did see some amazing hummingbirds in Wyoming, so there's that.

Wherein I get myself into ridiculous situations

This photo has nothing to do with this post (but remember my New Year's resolution about every post having a photo?), but it is our new favorite place for take out.  And that reminds me of this story.  In the car the other day, Tommy's friend said something about 'take out' and Tommy said, "What's 'take-out'?"  And the (very clever) friend said, "I can't believe you know what 'ambush' means but you don't know 'take-out'."  (For the record, prior to this conversation, Tommy called it 'take-away'.)

***

I had quite the day on Thursday.  It was busy -- all with things that were in my calendar, so not in a surprising way.  But there were some lovely little twists that made me feel like an idiot.

Story Numero Uno:

I took the kids to school on Thursday morning and went to get my hair done.  This would have been quite a huge relief except that it looks striped when it's in a ponytail so it's only a partial relief.  (I think I'm going to ask her to remove some of the highlights but I will let you know when I have decided for certain.)  Anyway, then I went to get Lulu, and then we went to the grocery store so that the kids could eat dinner.  We rushed into the house to find Aileen (the woman who cleans our house three times per week) repairing our blinds (this is another crazy story but I will save it for now) and then noticed that she had brought her cat along with her.  I also noticed that there was a large mound of cat gear near the front door, but I thought nothing of it.


"Oh," I thought to myself, "that's so sweet of her.  She knows how much the kids will love to play with him."  And so I made Lulu lunch and let Lulu squeal over the cat (and generally terrorize it with her love).  She was thrilled.

So after I got the groceries unpacked and made Lulu's lunch, I chatted with Aileen a bit and it ought to be explained here that we do not communicate overly well.  We understand the gist, but it's not really like having a proper conversation and I'm certain that we each miss a lot of what the other is saying.  So.  We started chatting, and she was explaining to me that she puts the cat out at night because otherwise he wants to sleep with her, and that he meows when he wants to go to the bathroom so she lets him out, and then it became clear that Aileen was planning to leave the cat at our house for the weekend.

Here I will have to interrupt myself because I have not explained on this blog that we lost our cat, Lola. We put her out before we left for 36 hours (we put out food and water OF COURSE) to go renew our visas in Dubai (so before we had even moved into the house).  Long story short, she never returned, leaving me to imagine the awful things that could have happened to her.  Aileen is certain that some other lucky family caught Lola and has confined her indoors, but I am not nearly so certain.  I think that it's possible that a pack of wild dogs ('wadi dogs') caught her; I think it's also possible that she was poisoned or hit by a car.  So I have been living with a fair amount of guilt for quite a while now.

So back to the moment wherein it becomes clear that Aileen is planning to lend us her cat for the weekend.

"Leave him here for the weekend?!?"  I exclaimed loudly enough for Aileen to start laughing.  "Yes, ma'am," she said (she calls me "ma'am" or "Madame Laura" and Eli is "Sir Eli"; this took some getting used to).  Anyway, we struggled through a conversation in which I was attempting to (a) remember whether the conversation we'd had about her cat the last time she'd cleaned had led her to believe that I wanted to borrow him,  and (b) decide whether to allow the cat to stay as I knew that Tommy would be disappointed to have missed him.  In the end, my fear that something horrible would happen to the cat outweighed my desire to constantly please my children, and I asked her to take the cat home.

And now, Lulu gets mad when Aileen comes sans cat.  Of course.

Story Numero Dos:

Lulu had a birthday party on Thursday at a restaurant that is well-known among the kids in Muscat as it is a popular birthday party venue.  The truth is that there are some nice aspects of this restaurant, but that it's nothing overly special.  So I walked into the party and met the mother of Lulu's classmate.  The first thing I said to her, as I pulled a cardigan out of my bag, was that I always bring a scarf or layer there because they always have the AC on quite high.

"Oh, really? Interesting." she said.  "You've been here before?"

"Yes," I said.

"How many times?" she asked.

"I'm not sure, maybe five?" I replied.

"Do you like it?" she asked.  [Note:  I understood that this woman had decided to have her daughter's party there, so I knew that I shouldn't say I found it underwhelming.  But, I could have made some negative comments and I did not.]

"Sure."  I said.  "It's fine, and the kids seem to love it."

"Do you eat when you come?"  she asked.

"Yes, I have a couple of times."

"What do you usually order?"  [And here I was pretty sure that something about this conversation was odd.]

"I'm not sure -- there's some sort of wrap I get, I guess."

"Oh," she said.  "My family own this restaurant, and I was just looking to get an unbiased opinion."

!!!!  While this story would have been better if I'd said what I really thought, I felt quite relieved to have played it safe and not said anything overly controversial.  But talk about a set-up!

Lulu lately

So on the day Lulu was most sick, I took her to get a haircut.  It was probably miserable for her, but it was genius on my part because she couldn't really mess around.  Here she is, after a blow dry.  She looks so cute!

The last picture is during her first nebulizer treatment yesterday. She felt pretty horrible but she is better today.  She will probably have a last nebulizer treatment tonight after she goes to bed.  (This is a very odd thing for her -- to be taken to the hospital after she has gone to bed!)

She is obviously (and thankfully!) feeling MUCH better.  As I type, she is telling me a story about her 'extra parents' and all the things they encourage her to do (currently the extra parents are telling her to chase lions with her two friends, Yoko and Diego and Alicia).  She's taking at least one more day off school though, as the pediatrician opined that she is vulnerable to another illness like this one with the state of her immune system. 

Sick already

We had a really nice day on Friday.  We did homework in the morning (Eli and I did homework; Tommy doesn't have any yet but they're piling it on the parents right now) and then we went to the Intercon and played in the pools in the afternoon.  The kids had a great day because another family with whom we are friends were there, and they had playmates.  It was difficult to pry them away and in fact, Eli and I violated our pact to be home at 5:30 so that we wouldn't have a crazy evening.  But, it was worth it because we all had so much fun.

The kids went to bed easily and then, at 8:30, Lulu woke up.  She was clearly feeling horribly -- whimpering and crying and telling us that she was sick.  So, she and I slept together, waking every two hours to complain.  I don't begrudge her the complaining as she really doesn't feel well, but I AM FRUSTRATED THAT SHE IS SICK AFTER GOING TO SCHOOL FOR JUST ONE WEEK (a total of twelve hours).

She felt rotten yesterday, so badly, in fact that despite being dragged in her stroller to a birthday party for Tommy's friend, she declined a piece of cake when it was offered to her.  Last night was rough again, and this morning we went to urgent care.  She has bronchitis and had two twenty-minute sessions on a nebulizer (so sad, but she was such a good girl) and we will go back for another two sessions this evening before bed.  She'll see the pediatrician again in the morning (and probably also spend some more time on the nebulizer).

On the bright side, Tommy shows no signs of coming down with this, yet!

First Day of School

I vowed to write six hours a week when I returned to Muscat and so far I've done one sad post and that's it.  It has been an adjustment to be back here -- for all kinds of reasons:  the driving with crazy people, the trips to multiple grocery stores daily for things which are always in stock in the US, the dripping sweat (it has been very warm), the stares (have I complained about how much people stare here on the blog?).  But, I think I'm finally getting to the adjusted part of the experience which is remarkable when you consider I've been back for less than two weeks.

Tommy started first grade on Sunday and Lulu started her first year of preschool (according to the TAISM curriculum).  Tommy is exhausted and in mourning for summer and playtime; Lulu is exhausted and telling us that she 'hates school' because that's what she hears her brother say each morning (and may I say that it physically pains me whenever he says it because he has always loved school so much?).  They are thrilled that it is the weekend, and I think I am, too.  (Have I complained about how much I loathe packing lunches?  Have I complained about how much I am complaining lately? MY GOODNESS.)