Merry Christmas

"And there were in that same country shepherds, abiding in the fields, keeping watch over their flocks by night. An lo, the Angel of the Lord appeared among them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were sore afraid. But the angel of the Lord said to them, "Do not be afraid, for a bring you tidings of great job that will be to all people: For born this day, in the city of David, a saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign to you: You will find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger"

"Suddenly, a great company of the heavenly host appeared, praising God and singing "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men"

Despite the fact that this may not be the actual day of his birth, this is a day to honour Jesus, as the saviour of our often hopeless, despicable, deplorable world. Everything else about this season is secondary. Reminding myself this is helping. In everything I do, I want to honour Christ and be a light to the world. I'll close with one of my favourite quotes ever, from one of my biggest inspirations, Mother Teresa

"I can do no great things, only small things with great love"

No christmas tree???!

I might have posted about it before, but this year, after deciding that we (my dad and I) would put up a christmas tree, I said "we just have to wait until after my Sunrise class finishes up! I can't have three-year-olds being so distracted-it's not fair to them OR me!". So, having the class finish this afternoon, my dad and I went out after dinner this evening to the tree lot about a half kilometer away from our house. Where we've always gotten the tree for about 10 years now. Even this late in the season. Walking. Yes, walking, because the car has a service engine soon light on right now and is going into our friendly neighbourhood auto mechanic first thing tomorrow morning. The lot isn't visible for a little ways, so we are almost there when we see that...the trailer is still there...but there are no trees there. Let's just say it was a bit of a let down. I hope that another lot close by still has trees! I really do want a tree up...without it, it'll be even harder this season. It's already hard enough to believe that christmas is less than a week away, it'll never feel like christmas without the tree. Even a true Charlie Brown type tree would be fine with me!

Last night was really hard in the accepting-my-mom-is-gone area and I don't even really know why. My dad and I went to the symphony's performance of Handel's Messiah, which was really wonderfully done...my dad was even humming along at a few points, until I elbowed him rather sharply. I can't really blame him though-I've only sung select chorus parts, whereas he has sung it several times. I know that one time was in December of 1994 because my mom, who was a soprano, would always tell of how she would be practicing, and I would be singing along-and hitting the high B flats. She was a bit flabbergasted...four year olds aren't supposed to be able to hit those high notes! Trust me...I know this as a music teacher. I miss hearing those stories. Yes, my dad will have some, but being a stay-at-home mom during my early years, my mom was really the one with all the stories.

I guess it's safe to say that I miss everything about my mom's presence...except her occasional over-reacting. You know though, to be honest, I've run things through my head, and it is easier having my dad as the surviving parent simply because he is a bit of a rock. I don't know how my mom would have dealt with my dad's death. Fortunately, I will never have to know that.

I am very proud of my dad right now, because after years and years of over-eating and weight gain, topping out at over 250pounds, he has gone back to Weight Watchers, which previously helped him lose about 70 pounds. That was about a week and a half ago-he gos to his meeting on wednesday afternoons, and he figures that he's lost about 8 pounds now. I'm really trying hard have him become one of my 'projects'. I meet with a dietician with the ed program at the clinic on tuesday to discuss my eating stuff. Perhaps between the two of us we cancel each other out and are normal with this thing called eating.

Wish us luck on our tree hunt.

Cue the hallelujah chorus...followed by me crying!

I finished the essay, after rewriting the last paragraph for close to an hour at around 11:30! Thank goodness. Cue the hallelujah chorus on finishing it, but follow it up by me crying because the course is now over. I cannot begin to describe what an incredible experience it was. And how much it has affected me, and really increased views that were already existing. I have really come to believe VERY STRONGLY that despite the view by many that Euro-North American beliefs and customs are the best or to be aspired to, that no culture, whether it is the tiniest african tribe, or Inuit village, or the most populated country (China, followed by India) on the planet is more important or more 'right' than any other. This course, which at the start seemed to cover an awful lot, has recently made me realize just how little it really did cover (due to lack of time). It's like one drop off the largest ice berg in the ocean. Incredible is the only way to describe it, and the first professor is one of the most amazing people I have ever met. I feel so honoured to have had him four three courses now (even if this one was cut short). His immense knowledge, humanity, humour, and presence are unlike any I've ever known. Although I've had other good professors, he is definitely the top professor. To make things easier on myself, I have seperated the terms professor and teacher-it's too hard to pick ONE teacher from high school/middle school.

To give you a taste of both his insight, and his humour, here are some quotes that I took down during September and October...I posted this as a note on facebook to share with my friends from the class, as well as all those at the faculty who have yet to take the course!!!

"What exactly is the meaning of the word meaning?"
"If I were in charge of international diplomacy, the world would collapse tomorrow"
"India had 7 or 8 years to prepare, looks like they left it to the last minute (the commonwealth games)....sounds like my bank account"
"if western countries would step out of the picture once in a while, countries have an inate way of fixing things. It behooves us to think of the beauty of the land and people"
"There's a lot of drinking that gos on in Eastern Europe; it's celebratory and wild and I'm not very good at it" (student) "I'm sure you could get a student  to help you!"
"I think it's really unfair that there's men that gorgeous walking around. Unfair to the rest of us, that is (pause)" ('Martin-the only guy in the course')..."yeah..."
"I never know if I'm forwarding or rewinding-that always gets me in trouble...you guys grew up with these damn buttons!"
"Obviously I will never have this experience" (in regards to pregnancy)
"I find it amusing that years ago, my unborn child objected quite vehemently to Wagner"
(in describing what he sometimes puts on a sign at halloween) "There are two choices...you can have broccoli or candy. Let me know by yelling at the door"
"Nor can I demonstrate anything aboriginal without herniating myself"
"We need some candles and incense to really experience this...I'm only referring to legal items"
"Gotcha!!!" (in response to the technology not wanting to have the screen on and finally getting it)
"We have a double bar and they don't"
"Does it make you want to be in the company of a particular person?"
"Who wants to listen to an old man talk about these things...(aside in a Groucho Marx voice "even though I'm very experienced!")
and finally...what made each class complete...don't forget...

THE EAR SPLITTING, SPINE BREAKING SOUND OF THE SOUND SYSTEM NOT DISCONNECTING/CONNECTING PROPERLY!

(after a class where this hadn't happened until we were leaving) "Now the class is complete!'

All throughout October, Intro to Ethno was one of the few times a week where I found myself really able to focus on something besides being away from my mom in the hospital. If that doesn't say something positive about the course, nothing will!

Oh, and here is the link to my favourite piece that we watched and learned about...it unfortunately gets cut off, but is WELL worth the time. Nusrat Fateh Ali Ahan is the man on the left doing the majority of the singing and leading. What presence. Oh, and this is Sufi music from Pakistan- a qawwali hamd prayer, which is a prayer to a Sufi saint.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XQSbF8Qy5tc

Essay...essay...essay...(repeat as required!)

These past few days have been dedicated to working on my final summary report for Intro to Ethnomusicology. Or so it's supposed to have been. It hasn't been especially easy to get down to it. I now have 11 hours, 28 minutes until it is due. I've been going about it in a different way than I often do essays. Usually, for the past couple of years, when I write an essay, I take down individual points/quotes etc on note cards, and then arrange them into an outline which I type almost immediately into the computer. This one, for whatever reason, because it is basically based on my notes and handouts from the course and any discussions I remember or things I already knew, I've been writing it lying on my bedroom floor as if it's an inclass open-book essay. And when I actually get down to that, I write like the wind doing that. But, so far, only 1.5 pages have been typed into the computer, and I have to have at least 8 pages. Distractions have been numerous, between me wanting to clean, watch some shows on my computer, knit on the blanket for my friend who's due in late February...

Speaking of that, that's where it's kind of funny. We were both intending to do an all-nighter last night, but neither one of us did. The funny thing was is that I was knitting on this blanket for her while on breaks! Well, pretty soon, I need to get back to this essay. Before long, it'll be finished. One thing that has been an excuse for me has been the cloudy day-my bedroom floor hasn't been as bright and so I've been going, oh, I'll wait until it's brighter. Well, I think I should just perhaps turn on a light, although I don't want to. But I have to get this essay finished (it is worth 40% of my final grade!). I've been trying to reassure myself that I don't have to stress too excessively because if I calculated correctly, I only need to get about a 77% on the essay to get an A in the course, and that really, a B+ wouldn't be the end of the world...but my perfectionism is not easy to deal with. Well, back at it.

Saturday night depression?

I thought it was sunday nights that caused me depression, but for whatever reason, all through this evening my depression has been mounting. And I really don't know why! Perhaps it's stress over my final summary report for intro to ethno, I'm honestly not sure. I didn't even remove myself from the kitchen immediately after dinner but ended up playing most of the Sunrise cd for my dad (after me talking about it so much and describing how certain songs got stuck in my head, he wanted to be let in a little bit I guess!) and talking all about the lessons. I get very excited whenever I'm talking about Sunrise or about the MYC program in general, I suppose because there is so much that is excellent about the program! And I certainly love those 45 minutes at 9:30 on saturday mornings when my four students and their moms or dads come to class.

Today was the youth orchestra's scholarship competition, and although I did not have a stellar performance and know that I was not one of the finalists, it went all right, and my wonderful accompanist, who has been playing for me for almost five years now (I've only played with someone different maybe 3 or 4 times in all of my festival, recital, audition, competition, exam and jury performances) was quite pleased with it, especially on how much better my playing was today compared to yesterday. I was a little annoyed because my flute was slipping a bit on my chin, which doesn't always happen. Some flutes, if they have gold mouth-plates can have scrolling, which actually makes this less of a problem. Mine, however, is solid silver, and I guess that's not possible.

Ah, instruments...it may seem crazy to non-musicians to spend thousands of dollars on what a fellow flautist friend of mine described as an "over-sophisticated piece of plumbing". However, if I were to not be playing on a high quality instrument (actually 2...my piccolo is also high quality), I would not have nearly the same tone quality, or even the technical capabilities as I am able to achieve on Johann, who is a Yamaha 481 silver 925. In case you're wondering, my piccolo's name is Sebastian...now all I need is third instrument to be named Bach. I've thought about naming the antique piano (our only piano) that is sort-of mine now that my mom is gone and my dad does not play a note and my sister lives out of the house, but it doesn't always seem to fit. Whatever the case, Sebastian really seems to fit for my piccolo. Naming instruments is not a new thing, and is actually pretty common...one of my friend's piccolos is named Tyrone, and I know a cello named Aluicious (and the spelling is probably wrong there). My flute has been an almost constant companion since August of 2004, so since before I started grade 9, or starting to close in on seven years now. I've thought about possibly upgrading further, and if something DOES present itself and I have my flute teacher's listening approval along with that of at least one other flautist, I might make that investment. My flute teacher, upon hearing this was rather quick to say that it would have be something VERY special and good, because this flute (a low-end professional model) seems to be a very good fit for me (which, don't get me wrong, is a very good thing). However, not having played another flute of quality, how do I know that I might not sound better on another one? I guess it's a bit of curiosity.

I just looked over at my calender and saw that it is exactly two weeks until christmas. Despite playing favourite christmas cds, Kris Kringle and seeing the mall dressed up, it still was a complete shock. I think I'll put up some decorations tomorrow (all out of reach of small hands of course!) to help me realize that it is coming, and fast. It's very easy to exist in a state of constant winter I guess, and we have had some bitter cold the past little while, wind chills of around -35, and temperatures expected to dip down to -30 celsius tonight. I suppose it's not as bad as we've had in the past, but it isn't pleasant.

I think that cleaning up my room a little, changing the sheets, having a bath and then going to bed-perhaps even before midnight (!) will help me to feel a bit better. Actually, writing this post has helped a little bit-I'm not feeling quite like crying anymore.

Whew. What a week and a half it's been! My orchestra concert was on December 5th, and it went quite well. I would share the links for the pieces that were recorded, but they happen to name my city, and I don't think that's a safe thing to be putting on the internet. If I figure out a way to have that NOT show, I will happily post them! Overall, I would say that all the orchestras played quite well, from the Youth Strings on up through the Concert Orchestra to my senior level Youth Symphony orchestra. Although the Shostakovich Festival Overture got a little bit away from our conductor, it all worked out rather well. I'm super excited for next semester starting in January when we get to play the WHOLE of Tchaikovsky's fourth symphony! I played the fourth movement at music camp a couple of years ago (not an arrangement either) and I had so much fun because I was on piccolo-and I get to play piccolo in youth symphony as well! There's a small streak in me that unfortunately takes some pleasure at getting to torture others with super high piccolo playing! Playing the piccolo, incidently is why I have a large collection of orange ear plugs.

Then, of course, there has been the wind-up of classes. Which for me, also means marking lots of basic skills exams and rudiments assignments. I spent much of tuesday marking basic skills exams from about 1:30 to 5something. I say 5 something because I have no clue...I was all 'skilled out. It got to the point where I would mark one exam and then put my head down on the library table, close my eyes and rest for a minute or two. That was when I decided to just stop, and I would finish them later after my final Intro to Ethno class. Oh, Intro to Ethno...we had a potluck...so between the chocolate bar I bought from a singer-friend as part of their fundraiser to go to Norway/Finland in the spring and then the chocolate things that several of us had made...I was not only skilled out but chocolated out!

I'll take a minute to explain another tradition at the faculty of music, called Kris Kringle-the music student's version of Secret Santa. In our case, we draw a name, and then put crazy tasks for them to do each day on the tree right near the main entrance. I ended up with my close friend's boyfriend as my victim, and let's just say I had a lot of fun :P. Mine certainly had some fun with me...one day, I found a note telling me to rock out to the music on the stereo underneath the tree. When I looked under the tree I found a vintage article from the 1980's or 90's...a genuine Fisher Price tape player/recorder! And the tapes attached were a children's tape, and then a backstreet boys tape. Actually, it was a lot of fun. I think it was monday that I had to skip around singing "We're off to see the Wizard" and inviting people to join me. Our classes wound up on wednesday, followed by Krazy Konsert. Unfortunately, it was a little bit short this year, but involved my close friend having to do some interpretive dance to quite possible the most atonal and irritating piece written before 1000ad with a white sheet tied as a turban, the reading of 'The Composer is dead', and what has become a tradition during Krazy Konsert, a barbershop quartet singing a 'comic-relief' song. Krazy Konsert and Kris Kringle are music student's ways of maintaining sanity during the most stressful time of the year. It's an interesting thing-insanity to maintain sanity. However, it works. Both last year, and then this year, going through the diagnosis period last year and then the grieving period this year, Kris Kringle and Krazy Konsert were also good ways of helping me laugh and relax against the stress of my home life.

I am very fortunate this year to not have any exams, however I do have a final summary report paper due next friday for Intro to Ethno. I decided that I would give myself a little bit of time to rest, and so I'm planning on starting it tomorrow. In the meantime, yesterday I did quite a cleaning/organizing job...of the yarn and fabric and assorted sewing/knitting/crocheting accessories in my house. For years, the sewing closet has been an 'open at your own risk closet'. I started the day only intending to organize the yarn between what I planned to keep and what I am going to donate to a group that make mittens and scarves for charity out of pretty much any yarn, but realizing that there was yarn buried throughout the sewing closet, I ended up emptying it completely. For several hours my living room floor was completely covered in fabric. In the end, I decided to organize things the way I wanted them to be...with the vast majority of fabric downstairs in labelled boxes like my mom had already done for the fabric leftovers. There are BOXES of fabric, plus, five boxes of yarn and three drawers. Add to that the entire large chair piled high with yarn that I am intending to donate (once I get in contact with them to make sure they're still accepting yarn for this year) and I was completely blown over...it was like this house was springing leaks from yarn and fabric factories! I guess the fabric can be tied to my mom's frugality (saving the scraps-wise) and of course, her four years working in a fabric store. The yarn, well, that can be linked to possibly four generations (definitely three) of knitters/crocheters (me being the last one). I wish my mom was here to do projects with me. There are literally a couple of hundred craft magazines, which my mom and I had started going through I think during the summer of 2009...before all of our lives got turned upside down. I started continuing that today...I guess the big task in the end will be organizing everything into binders.

I'm still feeling the effects of going up and down the basement stairs about (not likely exagerating much) one hundred times...just a bit of muscle stiffness in my legs. And I must do some more planning for my Sunrise lesson tomorrow...I'm going to play around with the video and see if I can't edit out any city label showing. If it works, enjoy the Shostakovich and Brahms...and maybe even some of my Wind Ensemble playing a couple of works from the concerts this fall.

Textbooks...

Yesterday, I went online to see if the book list was up yet for second semester (starting in January). It was...but when I scrolled down I nearly fainted. I am taking two non-music history courses, and I discovered that for the two of them I need a total of (hang onto your hats here) NINE TEXTBOOKS. OUCH OUCH OUCH. I haven't been paid for my marking job yet (due to some confusion about my employment, I am only submitting the time sheets this week) but I can see my entire salary for this semester from that going towards that. I hit the book store this morning, and was able to purchase seven of them there, but two of them were still on order-both had been ordered in October, and the clerk said "We have no idea when they'll be in...". With that I decided that I would just look online, and fortunately, Amazon had them (and for a lower price too, probably). I don't like to do that too often though. For one thing, I like to support my local stores, and the university bookstore is pretty awesome (it's kind of a hide-out for me...if I'm stressed after a rehearsal and have some time, I'll go there for 20 minutes or half an hour and just browse and then because I feel guilty and strange about going in and not buying anything I'll buy some 100% post-consumer recycled 3x5" notecards...I think I have about 10 packages of them...). But mostly, I don't want to take the chance that I ordered the wrong edition. It's too hard to tell online sometimes.

I'll admit...I did take advantage of the 20% off general reading and non-fiction book sale (including on bargain books) and buy five fun reading books-four bargain books, and then one that totally wasn't, but I consider it valuable. The non-bargain book is a history of my university. And I can say that I'm the only student at my university right now that can state that the university started in my church! Yes, this is correct. Back in 1877, the first classes of the university were held in a building that was at the time called **** college. In 1988, that building was renovated and moved, brick by brick, over about 250 or 300 feet, where it became part of the new church building. Now it's where we hold sunday school classes. A plaque stands on the wall that I've read almost every sunday since I was five years old, and it means a lot to me. So, this book has two of the most important facilities in my life's history!

Right now, I'm reading two books, one called 'Notes left behind' by Brooke and Keith Desserich, about the valient fight of a six year old girl against DIPG, or Diffuse Brain-stem Glioma, a brain tumour in the brain stem that is over 90% fatal. For more information, check out the foundation that they started, at http://www.thecurestartsnow.org/, or their own personal site, http://www.notesleftbehind.com/. The other book I'm reading is called 'Night Letters' by Robert Dessaix. It, too, is about death-from the back "For twenty nights in a hotel room in Venice, a traveler, recently diagnosed with an incurable illness, writes a letter home to a friend. He describes the kaleidoscopic journey he has just made across northern Italy from Switzerland, while reflecting on questions of mortality, seduction, and the search for paradise. Against a rich background of earlier journeys in literature, notably Mann's 'Death in Venice', Robert Dessaix creates a compelling and ultimately uplifting account of a life enriched by a heightened sense of mortality'.

Don't ask me why books about death are appealing right now. You would think that I would want to read anything but, however, somehow, this is what I am drawn to. During my mom's very last days, I was reading 'Alex: The life of a child' by Frand DeFord, about his daughter's battle against cystic fibrosis and 'The Unwanted' by Kien Nguyen about being an ameriasian child in Vietnam after the departure of US troops in 1975. I would highly recommend both, incidently.

Monday my dad gave me a brief scare, for about four hours. See, during October, he developed this growth on his wrist (my guess is the stress had a lot to do with it). Anyways, we all thought it was a wart, so he made an appointment with his doctor. She said that she didn't do those procedures, and referred him to another family medical clinic. He met with them on monday, where they said it wasn't a wart and so the procedure would have to be different. HOWEVER my dad told me only that part while I was rushing from the faculty to the bus to go to my orchestra practice and didn't tell me WHAT it was. Naturally, then, my first thought is "OH MY GOSH WHAT IF THIS IS SKIN CANCER???????!!!!!!!!!" So, for four hours, I was pretty panicked going PLEASE I CAN'T GO THROUGH THIS AGAIN SO SOON NOT AGAIN!!!!! Until I got back from orchestra and he explained that pretty much the first thing they had told him was "it's not cancer". Let's just say I was VERY relieved.

Christmas Music

All of my life, I have loved high quality christmas music. This generally means either singing hymns and other such songs, playing them, or listening to recordings of professional or high level amateur choirs, such as King's College Cambridge singers. I also really like music that is not identifiable immediately as christmas music to most ears-Bach's Christmas Oratorio, Tallis Christmas Mass...

On saturday, I played a Christmas cd for the first time since, oh, last December or so while I was cleaning up from my Sunrise class and then doing some setting of new clothes in a vinegar-water soak. It was a little bit hard...here's the thing, I love this music, but at the same time, I'm not exactly in top Christmasy-mood. That's what's so hard-is that I'm expecting myself to react differently, as I have before, and that's just not happening. I guess I should be glad that none of my recitals and concerts that have just happened or are still to happen in the next week or so involve christmas music. Friday was my Wind Ensemble concert and it went quite well. We played a Wind Ensemble arrangement of Mussorgsky's 'Pictures at an Exhibition', a work that I have always enjoyed listening to, and a Wind Ensemble arrangement of Aaron Copland's 'Appalachian Spring'. I loved both of the works, although I did find Appalachian Spring hard in some sections, because there is a quiet, expressive, almost sad theme, and during that theme in class, I would tend to think about my mom. In fact, the last time we rehearsed it on Nov 2nd, at about 3 in the afternoon, all I could think about was my mom and how I really wished I was there and maybe I should just leave...perhaps down the road Appalachian Spring will be easier for me to listen to.

The final part of the concert involved about 30 or so grade 12 students coming onstage to play a piece called 'Variations on a Korean Folksong' with us. This piece has special memories because when I was in grade 12 and was invited to join the Wind Ensemble for the last piece of the concert, 'Variations on a Korean Folksong' was the work we played!

Well, enough with the procrastinating. I decided to stay at home and work this morning instead of going into the university and working on my ethnomusicology assignment-so far, I've now spent about an hour doing things that, yes, were good to do, but not related to the assignment, such as hanging up the laundry I ran last night while going to bed and putting away other laundry, that sort of thing. At least I don't have class until 1:30 (flute lesson, followed by flute masterclass), but at the same time, it started snowing between the time I went downstairs to the laundry room at about 9am, and when I came up about 25 minutes later, it was snowing quite hard. So I really don't know how the buses are going to be-all I can hope for is the best, and perhaps take a bus earlier. Meanwhile, it's so gloomy that I think I'll have to turn on my light to properly see my notes.

First though, I think I'll make some green or peppermint tea...or maybe honey lemon, or raspberry white tea...or blueberry ginsing...or...well...let's just say that green, red, white and herbal teas keep me going and are a highlight of my day! But not black tea...for some reason, I don't really like it. And definitely NOT coffee. I like the smell, but cannot stand the taste unless it's a flavoured sugar and fat filled kind and I don't like doing that to myself. The teas listed above I can drink pure and as strong as I like, with nothing added, so all they're doing is warming and hydrating me. Plus they're drinks for my soul. Everyone should drink more tea.

Sunday nights...and what cancer cannot do.

Ever noticed how sunday evenings it's very easy to get depressed? Funny that until today I hadn't actually realized how common it was...that is, until I read the article on MSN health and fitness about it. For me, right now, I wish I had about a week to do nothing. Just read, knit, listen to music, maybe practice a little, watch some MASH...I wonder when things stop feeling strange. Specific times from my mom's journey stick out as if they happened yesterday, even though it's now been a year and two days I do believe since she was told that she had masses on her ovaries. At the time I thought I'd remember that day forever, and although I remember quite a bit leading up in that day, I don't remember off-hand the actual date. If I dug around in my journal box for my journal from that time I'm sure I'd find out. I remember the time, and that it was a monday. 5:29pm exact. I was working on MacGamut for my Basic Skills class (MacGamut, an ear training program that is just about the death of all first and second year music students...many an hour was spent cursing at the program or if you were me, not cursing but saying URGH again and again when the program insisted that you notate things like B double flat augmented sixth chords...) having listened to the message on the machine from my mom telling me that she had a doctor's appointment and that my dad was going with her so she wasn't sure when they'd be back. I figured that doing MacGamut would at least be easier to concentrate on then a theory assignment. I still consider that moment the moment that I truly became an adult. Oh, sure, I'd had my eighteenth birthday more than a year before, but that was truly when I suddenly grew up and enrolled in the course, rather without choice, called Cancer 101. A course I would never wish on anyone but one that has taught me many things.

A couple of weeks ago, I was cleaning the living room so that I could have a distraction free room for my Sunrise class. My mom's birthday cards were still up on the piano top. One from a friend had a really interesting bit taped in. I found it very interesting, and I think it really bears repeating:

What Cancer Cannot Do:

Cancer is so limited.

It cannot cripple love.
It cannot shatter hope.
It cannot carrode faith.
It cannot eat away peace.
It cannot kill friendship.
It cannot shut out memories.
It cannot silence courage.
It cannot invade the soul.
It cannot reduce eternal life.
It cannot quench the spirit.

My mom's journey taught me more than I ever knew possible:

I value my sister and dad a lot more than before (right now I tend to worry a lot when my dad gos out alone or something-fearing car crashes I guess; just not wanting another family member gone. That and fearing he'll have a heart attack)
There are more important things than school and musical achievement.
God truly has a plan, and it will work out-just not the way we necessarily wanted it.
Doctors can be very human. My mom's main cancer doctor from May to her death is one of the most wonderful people I have met.
More people than you can imagine will show their support, if only in a small way. While searching for the card that had that quotation, I found a card sent from our local library!
People listen...and are often surprisingly good at knowing what you need.
Professors, like doctors are also very human, and despite what some think, are truly there to help students. I don't know where I'd have been the past year or so without some extensions, or extra help to clarify things that I missed either when spending time at the hospital or because of mind wandering (reaching out to be there, worrying).
Hospital staff are generally very caring and helpful...but hospitals themselves tend to smell.
It is amazing just how many things a person can do in 54 years, but how many you feel were left undone.
Death is the strangest experience there is.
My mom's hug was the best feeling in the world.

URGH. No other way to put it.

This week started off on a bad note, and seems to be keeping up that trend. Mostly, this is due to the oh-so-wonderful eating disorders program and their complete LACK of accomodation. In march, I had my first referal to them, which frustrated me to no end, but at least the nurse who did the phone conversation was nice. I got very frustrated because all they had to offer me were groups, which are NOT my preferance or strong suit. After a couple of weeks though, I decided that if that was all they had, I'd go for it, and supposedly my ICM set the wheels in motion and contacted this nurse for him to put my name on the list for the September group. Well, somewhere along the way, things didn't quite work and in July, I got told that I had to get another referal from my doctor. So I had to go through that difficult process again, and unfortunately did not end up with one of the two nice nurses, but the one that NO ONE seems to like who is very brutal, direct, and confrontational. Back during my assessment in September, I was trying to explain how being around my underweight mom was a major triggering factor, and not only was I not given the chance to explain this but I kept getting shut down with, in the least sympathetic voice you can imagine "But she's dying". THAT was the last straw in my book. Once someone breaks my trust and hurts me like that, I can NEVER open up to them in a counsellor sort of way. So, anyways, in recent times, having missed groups because of being at the hospital with my mom, the psychologist "Dr Locke" suggested that maybe I'd like to sign up for the next group instead. I said yes, but asked if I could possibly be switched to one of the other nurses in case I ever needed anything because I CANNOT TALK TO THIS IGNORANT, MEAN, BULLYING type one. I was told flat out NO, they don't switch people around. Well, I said, then there is no way I will go through them to work out meeting with the nutritionist or anything like that. I refuse to talk to this nurse. It bugs me that they already DID switch me around, because my first referal was with another nurse. So really, what would be different? This is a new group, but apparantly, neither of the others is available (oh really? You know who will and won't be for three months away?) February feels a long time away and in many ways I want to just show up to the group next week, having missed stuff or not having missed stuff. I asked about that, but was told that that really wouldn't be the best. Right now though i'm thinking 'So what?" in my mind. Basically right now I want to throw things, stop eating, stop taking seroquel and cut. And cry. I really missed my mom on monday. What I really wanted was for the pre-cancer mom to hug me. As much as every teenager sometimes has issues with their parents, my mom's hug was probably the best feeling in the world, when I wanted one from her. And now I can never have that again. I've spent a good chunk of the past three days crying, monday and today because of talking with the Dr Locke. Right now I hate the whole eating disorder program. And I can guarantee I'm going to lose weight. That's a concious decision I have made...

Sunrise!

Today I taught my very first ever MYC (Music for Young Children) class! I'm only teaching the very first level called Sunrise, which is a prekeyboard program for children ages 2-4. I was a bit nervous, but things worked out pretty well. I have four students in my class, and they are all so sweet, and their parents seem pretty helpful and 'into it' as well. The past few days I have been feeling a bit sad about starting this though-because I'm an MYC graduate, and my mom generally was the one who took me to MY MYC classes from ages 4-8. It's kind of a bittersweet moment that I wasn't able to tell her about my first teaching experience. I hope to finish my level one training in June or July so that I can begin to actually teach piano-including Sunshine, which is the program I started in. I have so many good memories of MYC as a student-now I'm getting good memories of MYC as a teacher.

It would have been nice to be able to teach all level one classes-Sunrise, Sunshine 1, Sunbeams 1 and Moonbeams 1 this year, but I couldn't ask for three whole days off from my job at the daycare-half a day was more than enough-and, right now, I don't have the space to have, say, six keyboards and a piano. My dad and I are going to have to finish some of the basement for that to work. I do want that though, and I also want to look into Suzuki flute training-but that's something to talk with my former flute teacher about (she's the only Suzuki flute teacher in my city). I really like working with little kids, and seeing the excitement today-especially when we were singing "Can you jump up high with me" to the tune of London Bridge (of course with actions!) was just great.

Yes, I do feel sadness at times, but at the same time, I think I'm trying to ignore it or push it away, like how I latch onto other people's issues and try to help with that (though, I guess that is kind of my natural tendency). There is so much I miss about my mom. All the time, I think of things I'd like to tell her, like I would love to tell her about my Sunrise class. I'd love to have her around to watch me sew together the first vest that I knit-I may have sewn together almost 200 pairs of mittens, but I've never actually made a true garment. I really miss the way she made meals, even though both me and my dad are pretty good cooks. Sometimes though, there are a few things that I go, it's a good thing she's not around to see-like the disaster of both the basement and the computer room! Mostly, things just feel strange, like this isn't really real yet.

School...school...more school.

Having completed everything that's easily completeable, I have no choice really but to head back to the university tomorrow. Yes, it will be good, but at the same time...well...today I felt so empty, so well, down. I couldn't really call it sadness though, just the empty hole. I can't just sit and do nothing, I have to be doing something, and I haven't written in my journal since monday evening. It's as if writing there will make things real even though I know this is real.

I've been having those experiences where I want to tell my mom stuff. For instance, I was sitting near the doors to the sanctuary on friday before the funeral, knitting as I often do, when two women came up. Turns out that my mom worked with them at her previous job from almost seven years ago. Once they told me who they were I remembered, because I had worked a few shifts at the fabric store during crazy times, just shelving fabric and sweeping, that type of thing (I was after all only 12 and 13 years old). And I remembered thinking how cool it was, and how great it would be to tell my mom-only of course, I couldn't. I especially felt this pang, because one of the women was my mom's old manager, who herself had serious breast cancer and underwent surgery, chemotherapy and radiation. My mom had, last year in December or January, talked about phoning this woman, but she never had.

I slept from about 1:20 last night until almost 11 this morning, having decided that at the very least, I could prep myself for going back to school by getting a good night's sleep. In some ways though, I've almost felt more tired today. Perhaps it's because of those classic depression symptoms that were present so much of today. Right now I really need to take a shower and then clear a few things off my bed, but all I want to do is just crawl in right now and forget about things...

We had the funeral for my mom today at 2pm, and the internment of ashes at 11am. It couldn't have been a more beautiful day for November-about 8 degrees celsius and not a cloud in the sky. The afternoon sun shone through the south and west facing windows so much that I almost felt blinded sitting there in the front pew (as compared to where I usually sit, in the back-a presbyterian custom!). The church itself was packed, and although a number of my friends were not able to get away from their classes, as I had once predicted with my mom, my flute and piano teachers, my former flute teacher, several of my flute friends, a few of my high school friend's parents', and a few of my high school friends were there. My mom's brother came, as well as two of her cousins (one older, one younger), plus my dad's brother and my mom's aunt and uncle. A number of my mom's tai chi friends came in tai chi shirts, which was a wonderful tribute. In fact, we cremated my mom in a tai chi shirt and sweat pants (ones she had picked out specially because they were too worn out to be useful to anyone else-how typical of my mom and her practicality). As my mom had wanted and had planned, the service was less about mourning, and more about celebration of the life that God gives us and what my mom gave to all of us. Because the internment was earlier in the morning with just a few close friends and family there-along with a piper (bag pipes) as my mom had wanted-we had a picture of her before the cancer destroyed her and her prayer shawl at the front. Our minister was also able to locate in the box of prayer shawls waiting to be given away three that my mom had made and so those were placed at the front as well. It was an interesting way-the service did start on a more somber note, but ended on that celebretory theme. She had picked a song that ALWAYS makes me want to cry for the beginning called "Comfort, comfort" so that one did get me going and I hated feeling slightly on display. At the same time though, I felt like I was almost being on display because I'm doing pretty okay. Someone once said that the first month you live on adrenaline, that it's the second month that really hits you. Well, perhaps that's so, or perhaps it's because everything still feels so unreal to me. Like someone still needs to shake me awake. I guess I just take longer in the shock/denial phase of grief than many people. It was a beautiful service though. The hardest thing was looking at the picture of my mom because she was so healthy and vibrant. It's a lot easier to be less upset with my memories of her the past few weeks, and of seeing her at the funeral home. Seeing her in the hospital after she had died was very, very, very strange, because my sister hadn't been able to close her eyes or mouth...

It has been a very strange four days...but at the same time, I felt very in touch with my mom today. She's always been a very private person, and that included her faith. However, having been a choir director and loving to sing and play the piano, she expressed her faith through music. Not as easy for a kid to pick up on though-she never once prayed with me or even said grace at the dinner table. That was always my dad's department. So hearing the bible verses and songs that she had picked was a new experience. I knew she always liked the King James version of the bible, and so the very first bible passage was Psalm 23 in the King James version. Somehow, the NIV or NRSV just don't capture the 23rd psalm quite the same way as King James. Besides psalm 23, she requested psalm 121, a passage from John that talks about the Father's house having many rooms (and since I can't find the bulletin, I'm relying on my memory) and Revelations 7:13-17.

I haven't been to very many funerals, but I was amazed at the sheer beauty of this. If only it hadn't been for my mom.

My mom-September 20th, 1956 to November 2nd, 2010.

My mom's journey with cancer ended at about 4:30 this afternoon. She had been in a lot of pain this morning, so we had her receive a different pain medication around noon, and according to my dad, that probably speeded things up. I was unfortunately on the bus home from my wind ensemble rehearsal at the time when my sister phoned me, but she and my dad were there. I do feel pretty mad at myself, but I couldn't have known. She appeared about the same this morning when I left just after 11, and the drug was given at 12, so I couldn't have known, but at the same time, if I had thought that, I wouldn't have gone! It was very peaceful-my dad and my sister were talking about going to A and W and they looked over and she had just stopped breathing. That was it. Of course, today WAS the day that the buses were eternally long, and I didn't get up to the hospital until almost 5:30. It was a very, very very strange experience walking into that hospital room. The first thing that was weird was that my sister was holding my mom's prayer shawl, which my mom had been almost inseperable from the past year or so. And then of course there was my mom. She looked exactly as she has looked since she started on the pain medication on October 24th...like she would just start breathing again.

I'd been thinking it would be tonight, so it was somewhat of a shock even though we'd gone every day for the past more than two weeks thinking it was her last.

It's over. Almost a year since she first started getting diagnosed...what a year. And exactly four weeks, almost to the hour that my grandma died.

Whew. Like I said, I worry too much about things. My wind ensemble conductor emailed me back with "Of course-take as much time as you need. We are all thinking of you and your family in this time".

I'm hurting even more now though. When I went on facebook, I found out that the car crash this weekend resulting in two teenage fatalities and one other teenager in critical condition involved a friend of one of my good friends. I'm trying to send support to her, but I'm definitely feeling emotionally exhausted and in need of support myself. And so I feel bad about not being able to offer her more support. I wish that we could see each other right about now and exchange hugs and then drink too much tea.

It makes me really frustrated about things. The crash was due at least in part to a 17 year old who was driving under the influence of alcohol. So I'm angry and frustrated at all the problems that alcohol causes. 4 teenagers whose lives are forever influenced or ended, possibly from just one or two drinks...

Just one of the many reasons I have never had a drink of alcohol even though legal age for where I live is 18.

Today was pretty much all around a bad day. My mom was very unresponsive to us today, except for expressing some pain through sounds (which if you aren't used to them are rather frightening). The hardest part is when she has that pain and then looks at you and it's like her frightened eyes are boreing holes into your heart. My dad and I had her get two additional fentinyl shots in addition to her fentinyl patch. Her breathing when we left in the afternoon so that I could go to my orchestra rehearsal was rather small and shallow breaths and somewhat irregular. Her colour was absolutely terrible today and the swelling in her arms had not gone down at all. I asked her doctor whether she would be able to use that fluid, and the answer is likely no. As it turns out, he's probably on a plane to Nigeria right now or will be soon-his vacation to go see his father and sisters. While I am happy for him to be going, I also feel a bit disappointed that he won't be seeing my mom right to the end. It's not that I don't trust the doctor that he is arranging, it's just, well, I guess as a family we have developed a bit of a relationship with him. I'll say this...I don't think that I could ever handle being an oncologist.

The other really bad part of my day came when I found out that, having nearly collapsed during his history one class on wednesday, my favourite professor-my intro to ethnomusicology professor-had surgery and will not be back to January! And my course only gos through december!!! I'm very relieved that he is going to be okay, but am devastated not to have him for the rest of the course. And more than a little bit worried that the professor we are getting will be not nearly as good and will totally change the course layout and things-like making us do a final exam, which I don't want (not having a final exam was just one of the many reasons why I love this course). I don't even know this professor, so it makes me worried. I'd be okay with the other music history professor taking over because I know his style from music history three and liked it, but this makes me a little worried. However, I do admit that not having class tomorrow evening will probably be a good thing for me-more time up at the hospital with my mom. I've said it a few times now, but I don't see how she'll live more than another couple of days. I'm so agitated right now from all of this that I can't do any of the things I'm supposed to do, and the strong green tea I just had is probably what's making my typing speed even faster than usual (that's one of the reasons I write such long posts).

And the final bad part of today is the possibility that my wind ensemble conductor will not let me reschedule and delay my performance assessment that I'm supposed to do tomorrow at 10:50am...I let him know the reason and I expect he'll be all right with it, but I always worry exceedingly whenever I ask for things from anyone else. This is the first he will have heard (at least from me and I think at all) about my mom's cancer. I can never keep track of who around the faculty know about my mom's cancer and imminent death. See, the dean and his wife, who was my basic skills professor and who is now the instructor that I mark for, go to my sister's church. Then, the dean's wife's sister is the register in the office, and their daughter is in 2nd year at the faculty of music with me. My flute teacher has been along for the ride pretty much since my mom was diagnosed, and I would gather that the other flute teacher who runs the flute masterclass knows by now because I have not been at the past couple of masterclasses due to being at the hospital with my mom (I think that my flute teacher will have told him). My former 20th century prof knows because I told him why I was dropping his course-I wanted to make sure he didn't think that a good student was dropping out because he was a poor instructor. My intro to ethno prof knew that my mom had cancer, but I don't think ever knew that it was terminal (due to the time frame-he was my music history four professor last year and I needed an extension), along with my former theory prof from last year (same reason). I know that the rest of the women who work in the office know, because they've told me! But other than that, I don't know for certain who knows. Well, besides my friends and such.

It's not even the death that is hard, it's all this leading up to it!!!!!!! Every night I go to sleep thinking I'll get woken up with a phone call either that she has died or that she is going to die very soon. When she does her stop breathing thing I think "is this it?" but then she starts again. I have this constant infusion of adrenaline and other stress hormones running through me. It's no wonder that I have a cold. The time of contracting it pretty much coincides with when my mom said she was ready to die.

I wonder if other people in similar situations think and pray that the death will come soon. I feel guilty about, especially because I think it not just because of her but because of how much I am hurting, and how much my dad and sister must be hurting. All the time now I think that I just can't go on any longer, but then I do. My brain knows that this is going to happen, and logic tells me that it's probably going to be by the end of the week, but my heart doesn't want it. Not at all. Well, that's not completely true. My heart knows that given my mom's situation, it is best that she be free and although I hate saying go home to Jesus, I'll say it. What my heart doesn't want to accept is that there is no way for her to go back to normal.

Tonight it looked to me as though my mom's kidneys were starting to fail, as she now has rather swollen hands and arms in addition to her legs. She is pretty much unresponsive and is not able to speak anymore. Generally though, she seems to be comfortable, except about every 1.5-2 hours when she needs to be turned. The turning itself is when she is most alert-I gather that it's uncomfortable and somewhat frightening, but after a few minutes she relaxes again. We are all getting quite tired. My cold today took a more miserable turn and as I found out, those hospital tissues are rough as sandpaper. I haven't looked but I bet my nose is red and raw. I think my mom and I were almost in competition for mouth breathing...

I can accept in my brain that this is going to happen, and soon, but I guess the heart doesn't want to believe it. It's rather unreal. But I know that she will soon be free of this, able to sing once again-something she hasn't been able to do very well since she got sick a year ago. Singing was always one of the things she loved the most-in fact, she met my dad in a choir. Watching her breath tonight though was a challenge as she does cyclical breathing-common with dehydration deaths. That's where she will breath fast for 3 or 4 breaths and then not breath for quite some time and then do one or two slow breaths, then back to fast, then maybe normal for a few breaths. It's very hard to watch though. When she does the slow breaths you think "is this it?" I hope that we don't get called in the middle of the night for a very practical reason-that the good ol' seroquel that wonderfully puts me out tends to not wear off for a while! So mom, if you can, how about after 6 in the morning if you are going to become free during a night?

The old saying "God never gives you more than you can handle" seems to apply. Sometimes it feels like I can't handle it but when I take a step back, give myself a minute to breath, reorient myself through something like hot tea or some satsuma hand cream and remember that I have lots of support-not least of all God!-I realize that I CAN do this and that I have become a better person for having gone through this. As I tell people sometimes, my mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was 19. As a teenager, even at 19, you still often view parents as more of an annoyance than anything. Well, that certainly changed for me, and not just with my mom. I view my dad very differently now as well. Of course, he still likes to purposely annoy me (I sometimes call him the little brother I never had) but in general I would say that our relationship is stronger than it was a year or two ago. And given that I am living with my dad, I would say that that's definitely a good thing. I hope that we will both be able to give each other space and time though to grieve in our own ways...

We have decided, after consultation with her nurse last night, that we will be discontinuing the 25ml/hr of saline as soon as the resident checks her over-procedure and policy I guess. It may already have been done, or it will happen tomorrow morning. No telling for certain how long it will be after that though. She has so much fluid sitting in her legs, but whether that will be accessible or not is another story. And she will still be receiving some fluid in her medications-the ranitidine and anti-emetics are all given in 50ml of saline. I was there for most of the afternoon, from about 1:30 to 6:30. There was a period of about an hour where my mom was awake, and obviously in discomfort and confusion. She kept on trying to talk, but it came out garbled, with hardly any words even understandable. When she's like that, I tend to say uh-huh or yes a lot. I mostly just stood there holding onto her hand, reassuring her that I was there while watching one of my all-time favourite shows, M*A*S*H on tape on the tv. I must have watched about eight episodes, I think...at one point, the character Father Mulcahy utters a prayer along the lines of "if you're going to take him anyways, take him soon so that we can save the other boy". It's a different situation for my family of course, but I'm definitely feeling that way-that the longer this drags out, the harder it is for everyone involved. That's one of the reasons we have decided to discontinue the little bit of saline. My mom clearly has been getting mrore uncomfortable, even with the fentinyl patch and an additional fentinyl shot when the nurse came in after all that discomfort and confusion (unfortunately, the fentinyl did not put her immediately to sleep as it has in the past).

I did some research about death by dehydration and it is apparantly one of the most comfortable and painless ways to die in situations like this. Hospice nurses listed death by dehydration as an 8 on a scale of 1-9 or 1-10 depending on the study, where 1 is a horrible death and 9 or 10 is a 'good' death. I even read that dehydration can actually help reduce pain, because it decreases swelling in tumour sites and such.

My dad talked a bit with me and our minister about feeling like playing God in all of this, but the truth is that no matter what we do we are somewhat controlling things-whether we left the saline or not. As I read tonight, dehydration is how many animals die-it's one of nature's ways of providing a comfortable death. Although I hate to think of my mom in terms of 'animal' it makes sense-we as humans, are, in some form, an animal I guess. With soul of course, but at this point, my mom is hardly my mom anyways. The rest of us are getting exhausted.

During one of her more lucid moments with me she managed to state " I want to go" and I assured her that she'd done everything, that we would be okay, that I knew she was tired and in pain and that it was all right to go. Whether she actually MEANT that she wanted to go 'home' is another question though. Hard to stay in her state of confusion. She might have been thinking that she wanted to go home from kindergarten or off a ferris wheel for all I know, but I did want to reassure her.

My mom is still here. What a time we've been having though. We've been told both that it could be anytime now, but also that the 25ml/hr of saline that she is receiving is possibly prolonging things. So now, we have to decide whether to discontinue it or not. My only concern was that if they discontinue it, that they will have more problems giving her the ranitadine and anti-emetic drugs. She's now been on fentinyl for four days-they started it on wednesday because she was having problems breathing and the fentinyl helps to dry up lung secretions as a side effect. Now it's also important because she has been in some pain. Her brother came out on thursday, but left again on friday. This I find a bit strange-given that her death was iminent, wouldn't he just stay until after the funeral? Whatever though. He was there, and that was important. My mom was, unfortunately, not really able to communicate with him. She is now pretty much totally unresponsive, even in the moments when she is actually awake-or seems that way because her eyes are fully open instead of the half-open state that she has been sleeping in for close to two weeks now. She has literally become a skeleton.

This is taking a lot longer than any of us-including her-thought. We are all getting so tired of going up to the fifth floor of the hospital and past all of the elderly dementia patients who are waiting for beds in a nursing home ( or are dying themselves). The smells, the sights, the bumps of the elevator...it's just getting very, very exhausting. And I'm slowly developing a cold, though thankfully not as bad a cold as my last one. I need to be able to keep going up to the hospital!

My mom did not have a very good day today. It seems that her entire digestive system is rebelling against her completely, and she had diarrhea pretty much every hour, as well as nausea only resolved by vomiting (forget all the drugs that the nurses pumped into her to quell that). What was amazing was that she was able to sit, on the edge of the bed, for a little while. Granted, she needed them to both sit her up, and then lay her back down, but it was amazing because the other day (yesterday!) she could not even lift up her head, and there she is, sitting there, with no support. They have moved her down the floor to a private, palliative care room, with free television and even a fridge (not that she wants anything). It's nice to be in a private room, but it is also very different, as the space is in many ways tighter. And, without curtains, anytime my mom needs help with certain things, she will now be kicking everyone out of the room instead of just being seperated by the curtain. Once again, I feel like my mom and I have a connection...I had a stomachache for much of today, for no reason I could think of...just like when my stomach was all knotted up and I found out my mom had been taken to the emergency room for an intestinal obstruction. It seems like when her stomach is particularly bothering her, mine will bother me...

At this point, we all feel like we're just waiting. She's ready...I guess we're about as ready as one can be. I'm meanwhile trying to balance spending time up at the hospital with school with coping skills. Sunday night I started sleeping with the baby afghan she made me at the top of my pillow. And-here's where I admit something I don't usually, for whatever reason-watching an episode or two of Star Trek is somehow comforting. Between watching more tv than usual (mostly, I watch very little although I have many shows on dvd that I can play on my computer) and being at the hospital, I have been knitting up a storm. Case in point, I finished a baby afghan for a friend who's due in January in less than three weeks-I started it the day my mom entered the hospital with the intestinal obstruction, and finished it on monday. It's done in the fan-and-feather pattern-the exact same afghan pattern my mom used for my baby afghan. My friend 'Carmen' and I are pretty close, and I will share the story of the afghan with her-when it was made, and why the pattern means so much to me. I just wish I could share it in person at the time, but she is now across the country from me! Such is life.

It's late, and I should go to bed. Thank goodness in these days for my wonderful seroquel perscription...

Final days...

At this point, my mom has definitely entered her final days. She has conciously made the choice to not eat or drink anything anymore and is only accepting comfort care-no more warfarin (blood thinners due to the blood clot she developed in August), no more blood tests, nothing like that. She's said all her good-byes to me, my dad and my sister, my minister....we've finished answering the 87 questions, she's even planned out how we could possibly renovate the basement. Her obituary is written, the music is chosen, she even has told us what to cremate her in. The urn is made. I think that at this point, she's feeling like she's well, just waiting. That the longer she's here, the harder it will be for us at this point. She has declined very rapidly since entering the hospital. At this point, she cannot lift her head from the pillow or move her legs. She has even lost the ability to use a bedpan. I would guess that she's probably around 70 pounds, if that. Cancer has stolen everything. Talking is becoming a lot harder.

After yesterday, when my dad was over in the afternoon and she said that she was ready, I was a bit panicked and probably my emotions took over over the logical side of me and I felt like it could even be overnight. I fully expected to wake up to the phone at around 3:42 in the morning, and I fell asleep after 1am, with the afghan she made for me as a baby at the top of my pillow. But, that wasn't to be, and so (having already cancelled my flute lesson and my ensemble coaching) I went over with my dad for around 9:45 and we spent until about 4 there with her. Our minister was there for quite some time in the morning with us, and her presence was very comforting. My mom spent a lot of time just lying there listening to us talk-talking for her is a lot of effort now, and her breathing has become faster and more difficult. Her doctor mentioned that if she wanted, he could prescribe a small dose of morphine to help slow down the breathing if it was making her uncomfortable. So far, she hasn't chosen that.

I'm playing things day by day at this point, which is very hard for someone who likes to plan ahead. But, I guess my planning ahead is the part of me that is going, okay, if she is 'going' on such and such a day or time than I will need to cancel/reschedule/tell so-and-so. Her doctor told us that if it was just the stopping eating, it would be up to 10 days or even longer, but he figures that the cancer is really working against her now too-and of course, she's not drinking anything and is not connected to an IV except for when they send the anti-nausea drugs in through her picc line. The nurses were going to talk to the picc care crew to find out whether a 25ml per hour drip of saline would be a good idea just to keep the line nice and clear because they're using it so often. Not sure where that's going to lead yet, but that's still a fair amount of saline throughout the day, and all the saline has done is make my mom uncomfortable-it builds up in her legs, feet, and even in her one hand.

My mom just likes to have someone there with her now and I can't blame her. I want her to be at peace...but I'm going to miss her so much. My prayer right now is that she will continue to not be in much pain (just discomfort when she's been in a position too long) and that her feeling warm for a change (she's been cold for about the past year) will continue. My other prayer is that I will find the strength to lean people when I need to, because I realize I have lots of supports and that they will understand-will probably in fact feel honoured. But it isn't always easy to do that...

Enough...is enough...

Tomorrow my mom will have been in the hospital for two weeks. Two long, long, long, long weeks. This has NOT been an easy time, which is one of the reason for my lack of posts. Yesterday I made one of the hardest decisions so far and dropped my 20th century course. It hurt...a lot. Yet, I knew that there was really no other way. I'd been getting behind in the readings, I hadn't even touched the assignment due today, and there is a midterm next week. Add to that that the doctors told my mom 2-3 months and that puts things possibly right in the middle of final exams in December. I don't think I can handle that as much as I want to be Superwoman, Superstudent, Superdaughter, Superteacher, Supermusician and all those other roles I play. 20th century is the only course I have/had that actually has exams-my intro to ethno course has a final summary report which is a little bit easier to do under extreme stress. Still, though, I feel so horrible about dropping the course. I'd never dropped a course before, and the perfectionist in me was saying that there was still a way to do it and that if I was truly a good student I would be able to stick things out and still get an A. The logical person in me said that this was really the best option, and I still have 9.5 credit hours, which is enough to be considered a full-time student, so my options for summer jobs and benefits are still open. And the course WILL be there next year, and I'll still have plenty of friends there to take it with. Yet, at the same time I feel like I'm being passed by and that makes me really sad and frustrated. Sometimes, yes, I do wonder why me, but at the same time, my mom and I both have always had the perspective of why not me. I know that the decision to drop 20th century and take it again next year will mean that I am truly doing the best thing for myself in many ways-less stress, more time with my family, and I am ensuring that I can do my best work. If I were to continue, I would probably be denying myself the possibility of an A in the course, and that was one of my main deciding factors. I spoke briefly with my professor to explain why I was dropping the course, and he was understanding. I hope he's teaching it next year because I did enjoy his style-but, the 20th century course tends to have a different professor each year if not every semester (it's two parts in the fall and winter semesters). So we'll just have to wait and see.

Today was NOT a good day, especially not from 4 onwards. One, I'm in the midst of the monthly depressive period-which, in case you're wondering does coincide with my period. My pms is really getting to the point where I need to discuss options with my doctor. It's simply getting to be not safe anymore to get this depressed where I'm almost paralyzed by it and where I become self-destructive and suicidal. Kidding to no one, that is how I get for up to 5 days out of every 32/33. So, having to deal with that, plus all sorts of other things, made me in not really the best mindset for group. Especially because this was decision making group day-whether to go on with the group, not persue anything right now or go into the intensive program (inpatient/day treatment). I don't commit to something and then back out so my answer was that I was going to continue. However, the psychologist leader had some doubts and I of course have my fears, such as how I CANNOT tolerate any weight gain. NONE ZIP NADA NOTHING. I gained about 5-6 pounds from my old set point weight when things went crazy last fall and so to me, I cannot recover or heal in any way, shape or form until I have lost that and my favourite jeans fit the way I want them to again. All of this led to a rather hysterical me while talking with the psychologist and my 5 minute discussion with her turned into at least 20 minutes ending in a rather spectacular hysterical panic attack. Then, at the end of the group I found out that my person of contact was the one person that I CANNOT stand with the group for many reasons. Put it this way, when I was doing the intake with her and was trying to explain a part of my ed-nos, how hard it was for me to have my mom losing all this weight, not eating etc etc and how I sometimes felt like I was living vicariously in her weight loss, she kept shutting me down by saying "But she's dying". Like, really, this is something I CAN explain about the ed-nos, at least give me a chance. And she said this in a really forceful-no-punches-held-back-not gentle in the least tone too! I was therefore, NOT in a good mindset upon hearing this and left the group rather upset. Flash forward about five minutes later and I'm smashing my head against the metal bus stop pole. Not so good.

I wonder if I should quit the group and try again later if only so that I don't end up with this nurse as my point of contact again and doing the assessment and such. The other two are nice. The one I've gotten stuck with? Well, a good friend of mine who has unfortunately struggled with anorexia for several years now and is just getting released from her fifth inpatient hospitalization tomorrow said "-----She's a cow". Really, it fits her perfectly.

I desperately need to talk to Bethany tomorrow. Let's just say I am crazy overwhelmed angry upset disappointed sad frustrated unsure confused and about ten thousand other emotions.

This time, my mom is not going to be coming home. Her oncologist at the cancer clinic sent in the paper work for referral to palliative care today. I expect that she'll be moving upstairs from the medical unit to the palliative care unit and that will be all. I figure that by the end of the week, she will be to weak to walk even the few feet to the washroom, even with help. Already, she cannot get up from the toilet by herself. Tonight, they needed two people to do so. Actually, as it turned out, a friend from church came up to see her just as the aide was struggling with her in the washroom. Well, he's a health care aide, so he just jumped right in.

I get to see my mom tomorrow. I just wish that we could really have a proper hug together once again. And now I'm crying...yet again...

My grandma...July 9th, 1921-October 5th, 2010.

My grandma died, relatively peacefully at about 1:00 pacific time this afternoon. Although my uncle and a former homecare worker that became like a daughter to my grandma were not actually in the room at the time, they were there for her. I'm glad she's not in pain any longer (she had apparantly been in a lot of pain very recently). I am more in the state of shock that comes when you realize you don't have grandparents anymore. At 89, she'd lived a good life. Now she's singing with my grandpa.

Update on my grandma

No, she has not died-yet. She is however, very sick. She has stopped eating and is running a fever. However this is my grandma, the 'tough old bird' and so they've already phoned my uncle THREE times telling him that it was 'time' and she has rallied. I'd say she probably has till about the weekend. I know my dad's heart must be about breaking now-having both his wife and his mom dying and not being able to even go out to be with his mom because my mom is so sick. Well, such is life. All I can say is, there'd better not be a third thing that happens around now! To my sister-you'd better not have anything happen!!!

3 months.

My mom was, officially, given about 3 months today-unless the possible biological treatment that they sent tumour samples off to Toronto to test comes back with a certain genetic marker is a possiblity. If it is, then she has about 6 months IF she choses to go ahead with the treatment. Which she of course, might not-if the side effects are bad, then she won't. She has pretty much everything in order, and there's nothing for her to push to see-no weddings or graduations or major recitals or anything like that in the near future. To be honest, actually being told what I already figured was more of a relief than anything. I think my mom and I have a bit of a connection in that I just feel and know things about her sometimes. I'm going to look into who I could get to videotape/record my little noon-hour recital because I doubt my mom will be able to get there.

The only really good news about today was that the bowel obstruction is only partial and appears to be caused by the cancer. I know that sounds like 'bad' news, but it's preferable to being told that it was blocked inside and that they'd have to do a bowel resection. Not that my mom was a candidate for that-she is far too weak. They've started her back on a little bit of liquids, and so far that's going all right. Perhaps her stomach and everything just needed a bit of a rest. I think she'll be in for at least three or four more days though. I highly doubt they'll let her go before saturday-they need to be sure that she can drink enough so that she doesn't just come back to the ER  in a few days. My question was, if this is caused by the cancer, won't this just keep happening? And if so...are they going to keep on the iv's indefinitely?

My heart is going about a million miles a second right now...my dad's brother just phoned and that probably means only one thing...that my grandma has died.

Prayers

Today has been a very difficult day. I keep crying...it just seems like everything is happening at once and I don't know how to get through. My mom had chemo last wednesday, the last of the four treatments before she gets the ct scan to see where we stand. The chemo itself isn't a problem, even though she has to bring home a pump for two days following the start of it at the cancer clinic. It's the crash afterwards that's the problem. This one hit her very hard. She spent pretty much all of sunday in bed, hardly even out on the couch after the morning, could hardly drink let alone eat much. This pattern continued, only on monday her stomach started to get upset as well. My dad kind of decided I guess that enough was enough, she couldn't hold out any longer and took her over to the cancer clinic to get her rehydrated. That's fine, except that then they discovered the source of some of the problems-an intestinal blockage, perhaps caused by the cancer pressing up against the large intestine. They don't know how large or really wherabouts or what else, and they've even mentioned the 's' word, of surgery, but my mom is not strong enough to withstand it-that I can almost guarantee despite my complete lack of a medical degree. This is the sickest she's been yet, even through her chest tube episode, the blood clot, the stomach spasms...

I think she's really starting to get concerned. Her mom died from cancer all throughout her digestive tract and they also found an intestinal blockage. They never knew exactly what cancer...it could very well have been the same that my mom now has. My fear is right now that my mom will not be coming home. I'm trying not to think that way, but I do wonder just how much more she can take. She's been through so much, and she's probably down to about 75 pounds again. Cancer robs a person of dignity, strength, independence, and ultimately, in many cases, their life. I love my mom, and because of that, I want what's best for her. To keep going through this much more...I can't bear the thought. Yes, I would really like my mom to be able to come hear me perform one last time, at my Oct 22nd (hopefully!) recital or at least see a video of it, but if God has other plans, I'm okay with that. As in the hymn song of Philip Bliss..."it is well in my soul". My mom is in God's hands and however much I am going to miss my mom, this is God's plan and I'm much too small as a human being to ever comprehend it.

When I came home from the hospital, I went online, hoping to find a friend that I could talk to on facebook. Well, I didn't really find anyone, but I read something that for me felt like the straw on the camel's back. My good friend "Vitoria" has a one year old daughter "Annalise". Annalise has over the past few months gotten sick a lot, but she got sick this week. Vitoria took Annalise to the doctor's, who sent them over to the hospital, where it was found that Annalise has type one diabetes. She was in the PICU for a day, and is still there recovering. When I read this I just crumbled...my heart felt like it was breaking in so many ways. Especially because Vitoria and Annalise are more than a thousand miles away from me. I felt like, how much more pain could this day give me?

Please pray for my mom to be as comfortable as possible, and if it's God's will, for the blockage to clear in a gentle way. And please pray for Vitoria as she learns about diabetes and for Annalise to grow strong and healthy again. My own prayer request for me is that I be able to find ways to manage my 'two lives'-the school/music/work life and the home/private life...living a double life is hard but I can't exactly share that much about what's going on with most people...

I cannot think of a title, so this is it!

Basically, today was a normal tuesday. Wind ensemble, practicing, finally getting down to that 20th century assignment (which, no, I have not yet completed, but have made a good dent in and will finish after this blog), and then Ethno at 7. Ethno was definitely the highlight of today. We heard such a wide range of music, it was just breathtaking. And of course, the professor is just amazing. He is honestly one of the best teachers/professors I've had, and that's saying something because I've had many outstanding teachers. I think this course is shaping up to be my favourite since I started university!

Tomorrow I have an appointment with the head psychiatrist of the eating disorder program. To say I'm a bit apprehensive is an understatement...but, it has to be done, so might as well get it over and done with. I still haven't completed my group homework-I also need to do that. I don't have class until 11:30 tomorrow morning, so I'm going to work on both of these things tonight until they're done, and then sleep till around 9, then catch the bus at 10. Should work out, I hope. My mom also has an appointment tomorrow-more chemo. Her white cell count is back up, so it's a go. I think she was hoping to have another week off, but at least this is the last one until she gets another ct scan. Her blood tests show that one of the cancer hormone indicators isn't as high as it has been, so that COULD mean that the chemo has had an effect. We won't know until the next CT scan. There's just so much cancer in this world. Yesterday, my orchestra conductor told us that the head of the board had died, rather suddenly, from lung cancer. We hadn't even known that he was sick-it just developed over the summer and my conductor didn't known until he was told that he'd died over the weekend. When he started saying sad news and then the name, I got that hot-cold ice water rush all over. It just makes me mad sometimes how much cancer there is.

Happy birthday, mom.

Today is my mom's 54th birthday. And I'm certain it's her last. I guess that little bit of knowledge has been overshadowing all of my day and really making me feel more depressed than usual. That and finally connecting with the other eating disorder program-finding out that they don't have space until April, that, once again there really isn't individual and that their free counselling program that could potentially look at eating disorders has a seven month waiting list. Although, they did make me an appointment for next week with one of their doctors to see if maybe I can get accepted earlier. I'll have to wait and see. Bethany is great, but even she has encouraged me to have something else. I'm feeling like a complete mess today. It's hardly the second week of school but I'm behind on studying, practicing, readings and I have an assignment for 20th century due on wednesday. Part of the reason I've been slow on that is because it's worth more than assignments like that typically are (at least in previous courses) and I get all scared and tensed up and find it hard to start. I miss the days of my high school depression. That sounds very, very strange I know, but it was a more productive depression. My high school depression led to me piling on activities and loads of courses and spending hours and hours on homework and practicing to escape my pain. Now, that tendancy is there, except that I'm finding it very hard to get going. I think it must be the mom-factor. If my mom weren't sick, yes, I might be dealing with the depression, but I would probably be doing the escape trick. The feelings are similar-hopelessness, despair, wanting to hurt myself, more headaches, just feeling tired...but the reaction is different. That same feeling of being along in a crowded room is sure the same though. Often, I feel like I can't talk to anyone about what's going on. I sort of feel like I'm fading into the backround when I'm in so much pain and would really just like a hug....

Weekends (and utter awkwardness)

Weekends are too short. Utterly too short. It seems that it should still be friday evening, not late sunday evening! I've hardly gotten anything done that I should have...think 20th century assignment due wednesday and a whole pile of readings that I still haven't done PLUS of course practicing. Ugh. I hate being behind when I've only had just over a week of school. Over the next two or three days I MUST catch up. That, and get started making use of my gym pass. Fortunately, for students at the university, it works out to about 15$ a month for twelve months. A little bit less, actually. Either way, it's a wonderful deal. I would finalize my schedule-as to when in general I practice, exercise, do homework...but my small ensemble rehearsal time has yet to be confirmed and I don't get the chance to sign up for practice rooms until wednesday.

A busy week coming up, that's for sure. I must remember to talk to my flute teacher at my lesson tomorrow morning about a couple of concerto competitions...and the thing closest to my heart right now, doing a small noon-hour recital this fall so that my mom will get the chance to see me perform. I hope it's possible. Nothing big, probably just Bach's sonata in E major for flute and piano, and maybe Schubert's Arpeggioni for flute. The arpeggioni is a little bit below my normal level, so it would be faster to learn. I just want to give my mom the chance to see me in recital on my own.

We went through about three boxes of things today, plus a bunch of things in one drawer. It was surprisingly fast. As a result, I now have a few pieces of jewellry, many more things have been added to the Goodwill and garage sale piles, and my sister has a lot of new-to-her pieces as well. Cleaning things out is both good, and extremely difficult...for instance, in one of the boxes, we found all the cards that were sent to my mom/her dad and brother when her mom died 21 years ago, as well as the guest register from her funeral. My mom told me to just recycle the cards and deal with the register, so I did. It felt very strange though, but given that I was literally the size of a peanut (my mom was two months pregnant with me when my grandma died) I have almost no connection. Sometimes it really makes me sad that I never knew my grandma. My mom says that in many ways, she was a lot like me. In fact, I have several of her unfinished craft projects! She also loved music, and was a very good singer who loved choirs and choral music, especially things that let her dress up in costumes. Last week, we cleaned out a bunch of those costumes. Although, granted, not all of them were originally costumes-one of them was her wedding gown, a brown lace thing that would probably have looked dreadful on her, but I think that being a teenager on the prairies in the depression probably influenced her colour inclinations.

Speaking of difficult things, I think I'll attempt my group homework before I go to bed. One of the questions I'm supposed to look at is what purpose the eating disorder served me, and whether it still serves that purpose. I wasn't able to really answer that in the group...I don't really know what purpose it was serving, whether it even was, whether it's still doing that. Maybe it is about control. I don't know. The other assignment is an 'iceberg' assignment-looking at what the world sees of the eating disorder and what is underneath (ex, world sees weight loss, vomiting after meals, exercising-underneath is need for control, intense body dissatisfaction, dysfunctional families, competition etc etc etc). Ignorance can be a big problem with eating disorders. It's growing better, but you still frequently encounter people who say things like "Why don't you just eat?" "You look gross, how can you think that looks good?" "If you're fat, then I'm morbidly obese" "How can you make yourself throw up, that's just gross"

On a funny end note, my church congregation had to be observed by someone in the session of churchs for our denomination in our city and in the report, he made a few typographical errors which we are all now teasing him about (he's my sister's pastor and a very nice man)...mainly that we are a musical congregation, led by a pair of 'sinners' instead of 'singers' and that we combine both a mixture of contemporary and traditional 'sins' instead of songs...

Oh, and the utter awkwardness...running into people who used to go to your church that you haven't seen in quite a while whilst you are searching for your size in the girls' underwear section...and then when they show up in line right behind you when the cashier is having to correct your purchase because she forgot to scan in an article of, shall we say, a very personal nature and she has another cashier over there and did I mention that this is a man we're talking about here whose wife has already gone out to the car and I'm just standing there starting to have my cheeks flame up a bit while we're trying to make small talk...I walked home thinking "Only me...only me..." Yes, I passed on the hello from them to my parents...but I didn't mention the rest!

TA position!

I forgot to mention that I was succesful in getting the TA position. So, I start friday with marking basic skills papers :) Should be fun.

First lesson, first rehearsals, first classes...first group :S

I've had a difficult three days, but some things were good as well. My first flute lesson was monday morning, and that went all right. My flute teacher is pretty awesome :) Really, she deserves her own facebook appreciation club. Right now I'm pretty much just looking at Bach's Sonata for flute and piano in E major, as well as starting back on some rhythm exercises and double tounging. I haven't yet broached the subject of a possible noon-hour recital sometime this fall, but I will either by phone within the next couple of days or at my next lesson.

I then hopped on a bus down to the hospital for my three-hour torture session, er, assessment. It could have been worse, but it wasn't easy. First, I spent maybe about an hour and a half both filling out forms and answering some very challenging questions with a grad student doing her thesis on eating disorder treatment success. I hate having to put a number on things...especially things like 'how much of you wants to change such-and-such behaviour'. I REALLY dislike having to put numbers on things! And then I spoke with one of the nurses attached to the program. Fortunately, it was a lot easier to talk to her in person and she was a lot nicer in person than on the phone...In the end, it was decided that although they were concerned about my past self-harm behaviours as well as my mom's condition being a stress that I could be part of the 21-week CBT group. Now, I'm not totally sure that I'm completely ready for changes. So much of me would like to get so much 'sicker' I guess you could say. I just feel like I'm reaching my limits on having a lack of support with dealing with my mom's cancer and such, and at least this will be a place where I can deal with that...besides, I figure that if I don't try something now, it'll be at least a whole year before I can try something again. I figure that I'd rather try this while my mom is still alive than say something after christmas, when I don't think she's going to last that long.

That brings me to an update on my mom. She was supposed to get more chemo today, but her blood test on monday showed that her white blood cell count was waaaaay down, and her INR has been doing roller coaster imitations once again so she's gone from needing a vitamin k dose to being back on warfarin in only three days' time. The resident's tone was interpreted by my mom to mean that she won't be having chemo next week either. She's been getting so weak lately...I don't think that even if the ct scan shows that the chemo has helped some that she'll be able to manage more than three more chemo treatments. My dad asked me a couple of days ago if I'd read anything about how long death takes after chemo treatments stop. I didn't have an answer for him...

I had my first orchestra rehearsal on monday evening-the first time the orchestra has ever rehearsed on a day other than saturday in it's 90+ year history. For yes, my city's youth orchestra organization is one of the oldest in North America! It went all right. I'm still second flute...I've been second flute every single year in orchestra. But I do get to play piccolo and torture people :P We have a pretty well rounded orchestra-we even have at least three violas and a couple of other violins are interested in going over to the dark side. All we need is confirmation from a fellow student at my university that they'll play oboe in the orchestra and we'll be golden.

Yesterday was two other 'firsts'-first wind ensemble rehearsal and the first ethnomusicology class. Both went rather well. I really think I'm going to like ethno a lot. It's a night course, 7-10 and taught by one of THE best profs at the university. I'm so glad I could take it. Wind ensemble looks like it'll be a good group as well, and I'm looking forward to the rehearsals and recording sessions.

Today...today was my first group session. EVER. I have never actually done a group before, despite how long I've been involved in the 'system'. Let's just say that it was a challenge. It really makes me wonder if I'm ready to change things. I don't really know...

Yesterday was really not such a good day. Okay, the MYC thingamagig for the new military families in my city (along with about 40 other groups I think) was just fine. But the rest of the day...well...

I guess the worst part was the conversation with my dad. Or rather, at him. I guess I hit my breaking point. You see, my dad is quite overweight and is gaining weight again because he's eating for comfort I guess. What bothers me the most is the after-midnight snacks because he "doesn't feel well". Now, how eating when you don't feel well makes you feel better is beyond me, but I guess that's where we differ. Either way...I guess I just sort of lost it. Though, to be honest, my anger came out less as angry and more as sadness. I tend to cry when I'm angry. I told him that all of this really made me angry. I believe my exact words were "I'm going to lose my mom prematurely, I don't want to lose you prematurely too". In the long run, it probably was beneficial for me to say this, but it isn't easy remembering it. Truth is though that I'm VERY concerned about his health as well. It's challenging enough having one parent be very ill-for my sister and I to carry on somewhat normal lives, my dad CAN'T become seriously ill as well. Maybe that was what made me so upset yesterday, but all evening I just felt very down. All right, I'll say it clearly: DEPRESSED. I was watching dvds on my computer, trying to feel better but I couldn't even care about the cross-stitch picture that I love working on. None of my usual favourites-JAG, 18 kids and counting- seemed to help. I eventually went to bed, still the same way. Normally I write in my journal or read and listen to music on my MP3 player. I attempted to read...got one page read and practically tossed aside the book. I just felt so emotionally messed-up that all I wanted to do was just lie there in the dark and imagine nothing-ness. Fortunately, my seroquel put me to sleep rather quickly and so far today's been better. Well, somewhat at least.

My mom and I went through a bunch of things today-mostly old costumes and clothes of hers that aren't technically costumes...but because they're from the seventies or whatever, they are now! What this entailed was her lying propped up in bed and me taking things out of two closets, talking them over and then packing them away. We're going to send them to Goodwill because they have a costume section. It was a history lesson as well as a cleaning-out, because she talked about almost every article. Things like 'oh, that was the dress I wore at my high school grad' or 'that was the dress I left my wedding in'. It was good, too. I think she was ready for this-she was the one suggesting it after all. She really wants to clean out a lot of things NOW before she gets to the point where she can't do anything so that my sister and my dad and I won't have to do it without her imput. I guess it's part of her way of making it as easy for us as possible. I tend to enjoy cleaning things out, so this is good for me too. And spending time with her and hearing about family history and things is priceless. The idea of what we're doing is somewhat depressing to an outsider I guess, but I'm treasuring these moments.

Tomorrow is set to be a VERY emotionally charged day. I have my first flute lesson of the year tomorrow, and then I bus to the hospital to have a three hour intake appointment to make sure that I'm 'suitable' for the eating disorder group. After that, I'm meeting with 'Bethany' and then I head off to my first orchestra rehearsal of the year. Like I said...very emotionally charged-from great to horrible to great. I just hope that I can keep my mind on the music in orchestra and not on whatever happens during the appointment.

First day!

Well, my first day went off without a hitch except for the rain. I think I'm still in summer mode though, and it's a little bit concerning. Last night I thought the planets must be out of alignment because I decided to actually put on makeup! Usually, I wear makeup about two or three times a year...when I'm performing with my orchestra at the concert hall. So this was pretty unusual. But you know what? It felt pretty good, although I had to remember to avoid touching my eyes.

I only had two classes today, Music of the 20th Century and Vocal and Instrumental collaboration. 20th century music is taught this semester by the prof I had for theory one and two, so at least things were somewhat familiar. Vocal and Instrumental collaboration is with a prof I haven't had before but I've heard a lot of good things about him...including from my mom! How, you might ask? He's well enough known to be in the paper from time to time and presided over a ensemble recital that I was in this past November. One of the last times my mom and I went anywhere together, alone. She was just starting in on the testing process but it was already clear she was very ill.

My parents recently had the minister and her husband over to discuss more 'final things'. In this case, the columbarium and urns. And then that night my mom and I talked about funeral-ness. Mostly about who was likey to show up. I know that sounds pretty weird but we just suddenly started going. I was mentioning that the church was probably going to be pretty full...that most of the congregation and adherents would be there, she'd have people attached to her job, and her tai chi, my dad would have people from his area, my sister from her work and her church, my flautist crew and friends...it's a pretty small church. I have no doubt things will be pretty full...