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.