So this morning I woke up and the TV in the living room was on, so were the lights. The silverware drawer was wide open, there were dishes on the countertop and a plate with four bagel bites that looked like someone had stuck their fingers into then decided not to eat them at all. I was totally baffled. The girls woke up to get ready for school and I asked them if either had woken up in the middle of the night to eat bagel bites. They looked at me like I was nuts. No, of course not. And, really, I don't see either one of them turning on the TV and having a food fest alone anyway. So there were two options left: 1) ghosts in the house; 2) it was me. I am convinced it was me, which is really disturbing. I don't even like bagel bites. I hate them actually. I only bought them for my daughters because about a month ago, I went to Kansas City for four days and wanted to leave easy snacks for my children while I was gone. And this had to be an Ambien sleep thing. I have no recollection of it at all. What else am I doing in the middle of the night that I don't remember? Oh my gosh. I once went shopping on Ambien. I woke up the next morning only to check my email inbox to discover that I spent some $400 on stuff I don't remember. But am I eating or... I can't even fathom what else. I talked to my nurses today and they will give me another sleep aid without the same side effects. I hate that I even take sleep aids but you try taking Dex and sleeping. It isn't possible!
Did I ever mention how much I love to travel and go places? Life is about experiencing new things and seeing as much as possible, whether it be in your backyard or a continent away. To that end, I went to Kansas City last month. It was a last minute thing and I had company (William). Kansas City is beautiful. Granted, we stayed in a very tony part of the city. But the downtown park, the mansions, restaurants and shopping were superb. I absolutely loved it. I ate way too much, that part was not good. But the rest? I thought Missouri and Kansas were simply fly-over states. If I had not gone to Kansas City, I'd still be thinking that and what a shame that would be.
On Thursday, my daughters and I are flying to Long Beach for a few days.
And in early December, I'm heading to San Francisco for the American Society of Hematologist's convention (ASH). I was admitted as a reporter and I'm so excited to go. It's a huge conference and I will learn a lot and be writing it, blogging it, and Tweeting like crazy. Three years ago, I went to this same convention but as an employee of a major company that had a large presence at the convention. And this time around, I am going as a patient and advocate. Weird how that works. I haven't been to San Francisco in eight years. William is coming with me and we are heading out a day early, staying with my college roomie Jen so we can visit, then checking into the hotel downtown the following day. It'll be a very busy but hopefully fun and rewarding five days.
We just booked a trip for Spring Break. It's a cruise to Honduras and Belize. Just weeks prior, I'll be in Fernandina Beach, Florida for the Myeloma Beach Party. And I am hoping that next summer I can somehow figure out how to live in Croatia. I really want to rent an apartment there for a month or three. Sigh-- a pipe dream? Perhaps, but I can wish and hope and dream some more, right?
And that's my Wednesday post. Cheers!
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Monday, October 13, 2014
And this is how he lives without a wife
When I was married to Rob the Great (Alcoholic), I did 95% of the household work. That meant managing the bills, keeping the house clean, laundry, walking/feeding dogs and taking them to the vet, shuttling kids around and helping with homework, managing the vacation house that we rented out in Big Bear-- pretty much all of it. Rob, after all, had diving and drinking. Oh, yes, he also had a "Really Important Job" at the local utility company. Which, truth be told, no one works that hard there except the linemen. Rob left work early every day, didn't work hardly at all on Friday (actually, he "worked" from home - wink wink, which really meant working from the BrewCo, the local bar where he slammed back beer and vodka). And, honestly, most of the people who work at the utility company don't really work. It's like being an employee at the DMV. Rob fit right in.
So when I asked for, or demanded help, I usually got whining, drunken screaming fits, and excuses. "You do everything too fast! If you'd just leave it alone, I'd do it!" he'd scream in the famous Rob soprano pitch. Seriously, I wish I had recorded his screaming because you would be horrified and laughing. It's utterly ridiculous.
Anyhoo.... flash forward to my leaving Rob in the wake of my cancer diagnosis and moving to Utah. After being threatened that if I didn't get all my stuff out of the house, he would leave it in the front yard, I decided it was time to head back to San Diego and move my things out. When to do it was not an easy decision. I was in the midst of a stem cell transplant so I consulted with my doctor. Rob was going on vacation to Costa Rica. There was my timing. There was no way I was going to be in Rob's presence, moving my things out of the home while he hovered, screamed, full of bravado. I had my limits and Rob had surpassed his limit with me about four months into our relationship. I talked to my attorney. I could legally go into the home and remove all my belongings without Rob being there. I was, after all, still on the lease and was paying half the rent. I consulted with my doctor. That was a good time for me to travel. While I was still really super weak, driving to San Diego instead of flying was ok. I hired professional movers and off we went.
I rented a car and my dad and I drove. We stopped overnight in St George and stayed with my aunt Saundra. She kept staring at my funny. I wore the worse wig that I owned and had tape-on eyebrows. I looked like Groucho Marx. I also had no eyelashes which I tempted to disguise by drawing heavy thick eyeliner around my eyes. I looked freakish.
We arrived in San Diego late afternoon. The movers were arriving the following day. I forgot my key so I went next door to Crissy. She helped me get in. She told me that Rob left the sliding glass door to the master bedroom open. She also told me that she was caring for the dogs in Rob's absence but he left no dog food and no money and she didn't have money either. Wow, big shocker that Rob would do something like this (I say with dripping sarcasm). I went to the store and bought an enormous bag of dog food. It's hard to do things like buying dog food when there's the new girlfriend to fuck and beer to be had. Lots and lots of beer. Oh, yes, and screaming at me that I am too lazy and I want his money and I should get the fuck back to work instead of trying to get all his money. Except the guy has no money, but I digress.
I walked into the house for the first time and nearly gagged. It smelled so horribly. I looked at my dad and he had his t-shirt over his nose and mouth. What was that horrible smell? I looked and there it was-- mounds and mounds of trash in the kitchen that he couldn't be bothered to take out before leaving on vacation. And in the cupboard were rotting potatoes that I had purchased in early December, some six months prior. Holy hell, how could anyone, even a drunk, not smell this and try to get rid of it? How could even un-sober and dirty Rob be able to live like this?
The sheets smelled so bad- of terrible Rob B.O. and beer.
Rat feces throughout the garage
The movers found nine dead rats that were easily found in the garage. No doubt there were many more.
Mold and clumps of filth on the floor of the shower.
The dogs were horribly neglected.
The house was disgustingly filthy. The shower had mold and chunks of something all over the floor. The sheets on the bed were filthy and reeked of body odor and old alcohol. There were Diet Rootbeer cans all over the pool deck and all over the house. There was ample vodka in the freezer. Clearly he was drinking Diet Rootbeer and Vodka liberally. The floors were a mess. The kitchen filthy. I wanted to start sobbing when I saw the dogs-- they needed vet care. They had horrific fleas and they looked so sad. And the kicker was this-- dead rats throughout the garage in various stages of decay. And rat feces all over the shelves that housed canned food and serving pieces. It was so unsanitary, stinky, filthy and disturbing.
So this is how Rob the Great (Alcoholic) lives without me. If I had waited for him to do anything around the house, the truth was that none of it would have gotten done. Not a thing. Because when there's a choice between drinking and doing anything else, drinking wins the day Every.Single.Time. And anyone who dares try to get in the way of a drinking fest is to be ridiculed, screamed at, resented, and punished. Just like a child. Because most alcoholics have the maturity level of a small child. Stunted development. No coping skills beyond alcohol. How Rob has managed to keep his job is a good question. The only place he could get away with his work ethic and skills is at a utility company, the DMV, or the Post Office. And that's the honest truth.
Which brings me to my Divorced Moms post of today, which is right here. The sadness and desperation of my life when living with that man. My desire to walk away from that life, which I eventually did. Life with an alcoholic is universally a horrible experience.
Hopping Off The Treadmill. Rebuilding Life From The Ground Up
by Lizzy Smith
So when I asked for, or demanded help, I usually got whining, drunken screaming fits, and excuses. "You do everything too fast! If you'd just leave it alone, I'd do it!" he'd scream in the famous Rob soprano pitch. Seriously, I wish I had recorded his screaming because you would be horrified and laughing. It's utterly ridiculous.
Anyhoo.... flash forward to my leaving Rob in the wake of my cancer diagnosis and moving to Utah. After being threatened that if I didn't get all my stuff out of the house, he would leave it in the front yard, I decided it was time to head back to San Diego and move my things out. When to do it was not an easy decision. I was in the midst of a stem cell transplant so I consulted with my doctor. Rob was going on vacation to Costa Rica. There was my timing. There was no way I was going to be in Rob's presence, moving my things out of the home while he hovered, screamed, full of bravado. I had my limits and Rob had surpassed his limit with me about four months into our relationship. I talked to my attorney. I could legally go into the home and remove all my belongings without Rob being there. I was, after all, still on the lease and was paying half the rent. I consulted with my doctor. That was a good time for me to travel. While I was still really super weak, driving to San Diego instead of flying was ok. I hired professional movers and off we went.
I rented a car and my dad and I drove. We stopped overnight in St George and stayed with my aunt Saundra. She kept staring at my funny. I wore the worse wig that I owned and had tape-on eyebrows. I looked like Groucho Marx. I also had no eyelashes which I tempted to disguise by drawing heavy thick eyeliner around my eyes. I looked freakish.
We arrived in San Diego late afternoon. The movers were arriving the following day. I forgot my key so I went next door to Crissy. She helped me get in. She told me that Rob left the sliding glass door to the master bedroom open. She also told me that she was caring for the dogs in Rob's absence but he left no dog food and no money and she didn't have money either. Wow, big shocker that Rob would do something like this (I say with dripping sarcasm). I went to the store and bought an enormous bag of dog food. It's hard to do things like buying dog food when there's the new girlfriend to fuck and beer to be had. Lots and lots of beer. Oh, yes, and screaming at me that I am too lazy and I want his money and I should get the fuck back to work instead of trying to get all his money. Except the guy has no money, but I digress.
I walked into the house for the first time and nearly gagged. It smelled so horribly. I looked at my dad and he had his t-shirt over his nose and mouth. What was that horrible smell? I looked and there it was-- mounds and mounds of trash in the kitchen that he couldn't be bothered to take out before leaving on vacation. And in the cupboard were rotting potatoes that I had purchased in early December, some six months prior. Holy hell, how could anyone, even a drunk, not smell this and try to get rid of it? How could even un-sober and dirty Rob be able to live like this?
The sheets smelled so bad- of terrible Rob B.O. and beer.
Rat feces throughout the garage
The movers found nine dead rats that were easily found in the garage. No doubt there were many more.
Mold and clumps of filth on the floor of the shower.
The dogs were horribly neglected.
The house was disgustingly filthy. The shower had mold and chunks of something all over the floor. The sheets on the bed were filthy and reeked of body odor and old alcohol. There were Diet Rootbeer cans all over the pool deck and all over the house. There was ample vodka in the freezer. Clearly he was drinking Diet Rootbeer and Vodka liberally. The floors were a mess. The kitchen filthy. I wanted to start sobbing when I saw the dogs-- they needed vet care. They had horrific fleas and they looked so sad. And the kicker was this-- dead rats throughout the garage in various stages of decay. And rat feces all over the shelves that housed canned food and serving pieces. It was so unsanitary, stinky, filthy and disturbing.
So this is how Rob the Great (Alcoholic) lives without me. If I had waited for him to do anything around the house, the truth was that none of it would have gotten done. Not a thing. Because when there's a choice between drinking and doing anything else, drinking wins the day Every.Single.Time. And anyone who dares try to get in the way of a drinking fest is to be ridiculed, screamed at, resented, and punished. Just like a child. Because most alcoholics have the maturity level of a small child. Stunted development. No coping skills beyond alcohol. How Rob has managed to keep his job is a good question. The only place he could get away with his work ethic and skills is at a utility company, the DMV, or the Post Office. And that's the honest truth.
Which brings me to my Divorced Moms post of today, which is right here. The sadness and desperation of my life when living with that man. My desire to walk away from that life, which I eventually did. Life with an alcoholic is universally a horrible experience.
Hopping Off The Treadmill. Rebuilding Life From The Ground Up
by Lizzy Smith
October 12, 2014
Back when I was married, I was on my way to work, sitting in horrific traffic. I called my mom and had plenty of time to lament about my life.
“I am on a treadmill and I amazing on it. I can go really super fast and while I’m running, I can multi task! I can run holding onto the handles or with my hands in the air. I can talk on the phone or text. I can rattle off to do lists and add more things onto my list. I can read or watch movies. And I get off the treadmill and get some shut-eye and the next day I do it all over again. And today I realize that while I’m a superstar on the treadmill, I’ve actually made no progress.”
And there I had it. Explained as succinctly as I knew how, in all its sordid, boring and tedious glory. I was totally unhappy. I was working like a sled dog and yet I had nothing to show for it. My morning started with waking up early, walking and feeding the dogs, then getting in the shower and getting ready for work. Then waking up the girls and feeding them breakfast and getting them gathered up for school and dropping them off. And then it was my turn to start battling traffic to work—45 minutes of it. That’s when I made phone calls, usually to my mom. Then I got to work and stared at a computer screen all day, feeling more and more like a blob. Windowless, airless, soulless. I made a great income, I had a job that many college graduates dreamt of landing, I was good at what I did. And I hated it.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Divorced Moms: Learning to love my body just the way it is
From Divorced Moms.
Learning To Love My Body Just The Way It Is
by Lizzy Smith
My 14 year old daughter, Morgan, is done growing. I took her to the pediatrician and we did a bone scan so I make this statement with authority. She is 4 feet 11 inches tall. A mini. And she is gorgeous. Not only is she physically beautiful, but she is wise, funny, kind and thoughtful, too. She's also wiser than I am much of the time and I really look up to her (ok, since I'm 5 feet 8 inches tall, I literally look down on her but I look up to her wisdom, if you follow me).
For the past year or so, Morgan lamented over her height. She so badly wanted to be five feet tall at least. We even did a little research on taking growth hormones. The risks, we determined, weren't worth it. Plus once we went to the pediatrician and did the bone scan, it was too late anyway. The bones had fused and forevermore, she was going to be whatever height she was meant to be. No tweaking what nature intended.
Morgan was born in Russia. Her birth weight was under five pounds and she went full term. Her birth mother relinquished custody right there in the hospital. For the next year, Morgan spent most of her time in a hospital fighting off pneumonia and whooping cough. So, really, she didn't have a lot of opportunity to catch up on weight. When she was placed in the orphanage, I am told that she wasn't a big eater and was overwhelmed by her surroundings, especially during meal and snack time. She quickly developed a habit of putting food in her mouth and simply sucking on it for as long as it would hold up. When I met Morgan and adopted her, she was 26 months old and weighed 19-1/2 pounds. She was so cute and, well, tiny. And today, she is still cute and tiny.
Morgan gets teased a lot about her size. But as far as I can tell, it is all in gest-- no bullying. She is called Tiny, Mini, and Munchkin by her friends. Yesterday, she read to me a post she sent on via Instagram: I am tiny and I love it. I breathe less oxygen, my Uggs cost less, and I can wear any heals I want without being taller than a guy. I love my size! The response was overwhelming. Her friends loved her post! One cute boy said, "What, you're small? I never noticed. hahaha."
Keep reading...
Learning To Love My Body Just The Way It Is
by Lizzy Smith
October 09, 2014
My 14 year old daughter, Morgan, is done growing. I took her to the pediatrician and we did a bone scan so I make this statement with authority. She is 4 feet 11 inches tall. A mini. And she is gorgeous. Not only is she physically beautiful, but she is wise, funny, kind and thoughtful, too. She's also wiser than I am much of the time and I really look up to her (ok, since I'm 5 feet 8 inches tall, I literally look down on her but I look up to her wisdom, if you follow me).For the past year or so, Morgan lamented over her height. She so badly wanted to be five feet tall at least. We even did a little research on taking growth hormones. The risks, we determined, weren't worth it. Plus once we went to the pediatrician and did the bone scan, it was too late anyway. The bones had fused and forevermore, she was going to be whatever height she was meant to be. No tweaking what nature intended.
Morgan was born in Russia. Her birth weight was under five pounds and she went full term. Her birth mother relinquished custody right there in the hospital. For the next year, Morgan spent most of her time in a hospital fighting off pneumonia and whooping cough. So, really, she didn't have a lot of opportunity to catch up on weight. When she was placed in the orphanage, I am told that she wasn't a big eater and was overwhelmed by her surroundings, especially during meal and snack time. She quickly developed a habit of putting food in her mouth and simply sucking on it for as long as it would hold up. When I met Morgan and adopted her, she was 26 months old and weighed 19-1/2 pounds. She was so cute and, well, tiny. And today, she is still cute and tiny.
Morgan gets teased a lot about her size. But as far as I can tell, it is all in gest-- no bullying. She is called Tiny, Mini, and Munchkin by her friends. Yesterday, she read to me a post she sent on via Instagram: I am tiny and I love it. I breathe less oxygen, my Uggs cost less, and I can wear any heals I want without being taller than a guy. I love my size! The response was overwhelming. Her friends loved her post! One cute boy said, "What, you're small? I never noticed. hahaha."
Keep reading...
Thursday, October 9, 2014
From Divorced Moms: 10 Ways Divorced Moms Can Beat The Winter Blues
From Divorced Moms. Enjoy!
10 Ways Divorced Moms Can Beat The Winter Blues
by Lizzy Smith
I don’t know about you, but my moods tend to follow the weather outdoors. And when it gets really cold and I don’t spend much time getting fresh air and natural vitamin D, I can easily get cranky. Here are ways to get out of that bad weather funk and get a healthy pick-me-up when you need it most.
Get Proper Sleep
Aim for at least eight hours of sleep a night. Naps may also be in order. Sleep deprivation not only leaves us feeling moody, but it also weakens our immune systems, leaving us more prone to getting sick. On the flip side, make sure you’re not getting too much sleep or are having a hard time getting out of bed. If this sounds like you, keep reading below for more tips. Or if you struggle with depression, it may be time to see your doctor or therapist.
Exercise
You don’t need to train for a marathon, but getting 30-minutes of exercise a day is optimal. Especially when we aren’t feeling that great, it’s tempting to become a couch potato. Do you best, though, to commit to getting up and moving around. Personally, I love power walks, hikes, and yoga.
Revamp Your Wardrobe
Within budget, consider adding a few fun pieces to your wardrobe that are outside your norm. For me, it’s all about the boots, coat and scarf. I can live happily in comfy skinny jeans and a high quality colorful T-shirt. But if I’m going to feel fashionable, I really want to be wearing great boots, a fun trench or warm coat, and a colorful scarf. There are great deals out there. A few weeks ago, I purchased a leopard print trench coat for under $75, a pair of over the knee black boots with a bit of heel for $100, and several colorful scarves under $15 each. Now if only the heat would go away so I rip off the tags and go out in public in them!
Keep reading...
10 Ways Divorced Moms Can Beat The Winter Blues
by Lizzy Smith
October 06, 2014
I don’t know about you, but my moods tend to follow the weather outdoors. And when it gets really cold and I don’t spend much time getting fresh air and natural vitamin D, I can easily get cranky. Here are ways to get out of that bad weather funk and get a healthy pick-me-up when you need it most.
Get Proper Sleep
Aim for at least eight hours of sleep a night. Naps may also be in order. Sleep deprivation not only leaves us feeling moody, but it also weakens our immune systems, leaving us more prone to getting sick. On the flip side, make sure you’re not getting too much sleep or are having a hard time getting out of bed. If this sounds like you, keep reading below for more tips. Or if you struggle with depression, it may be time to see your doctor or therapist.
Exercise
You don’t need to train for a marathon, but getting 30-minutes of exercise a day is optimal. Especially when we aren’t feeling that great, it’s tempting to become a couch potato. Do you best, though, to commit to getting up and moving around. Personally, I love power walks, hikes, and yoga.
Revamp Your Wardrobe
Within budget, consider adding a few fun pieces to your wardrobe that are outside your norm. For me, it’s all about the boots, coat and scarf. I can live happily in comfy skinny jeans and a high quality colorful T-shirt. But if I’m going to feel fashionable, I really want to be wearing great boots, a fun trench or warm coat, and a colorful scarf. There are great deals out there. A few weeks ago, I purchased a leopard print trench coat for under $75, a pair of over the knee black boots with a bit of heel for $100, and several colorful scarves under $15 each. Now if only the heat would go away so I rip off the tags and go out in public in them!
Keep reading...
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Mommy's MAMBO FOR MYELOMA by Siena
Siena did the Mambo For Myeloma Dance Challenge. We posted it on Youtube and I wrote about it. Your turn! Keep it going, post, and let's raise awareness of the second most common blood cancer. My article via www.myelomacrowd.org.
I Did It! Mambo For Myeloma Dance Challenge. Now It's Your Turn.
by Lizzy Smith
It’s been several week since I’ve learned of the Mambo for Myeloma Dance Challenge. It’s a concept similar to the Ice Bucket Challenge for ALS, but this one involves a dance or fun routine for multiple myeloma, the second most common blood cancer. As a myeloma survivor and advocate, I knew that I had to participate. What took me so long? Well, I’ve been busy and … Truth is, doing the Mambo for Myeloma takes almost no time, is fun, and it’s important!
So two nights ago, I did it! I filmed my nine year old daughter, Siena, doing the Mambo for Myeloma. She is a total ham and loves this kind of stuff. Here’s how we did it.
- I asked Siena to make a sign. It took her a few minutes and she had fun with it.
- I picked a song. I chose Destiny Child’s Survivor and asked my Dad to play it on his fabulous speaker.
- I snapped a photo of Siena with my phone holding up her sign so I’d have a visual to share.
- I played the song and told Siena to start dancing while I filmed (you can do this with your phone, to make this extra easy). She could have gone on forever but I cut her off after a few seconds. As you will see, I’m no expert videographer and Siena and I didn’t spend a whole lot of time practicing. That’s the point—the Mambo for Myeloma challenge should be simple and fun. It doesn’t even need to be a dance—it can be a hoola, or trampoline silliness or a run, or… a song, jig… whatever. A sign is necessary so the viewer knows what the heck you are doing, but everything else is up to you. Grab a soccer team, your tennis buddy, the book club… whomever, and film, share, and enjoy.
- I went to my Youtube channel and uploaded my video. If you don’t have Youtube, signing up for an account is beyond simple. All you need to do is go to www.youtube.com and sign up. Make sure you have an email address first, that’s all you need. It’s FREE and extremely simple—even my technologically-challenged 73 year old mom did it on the first try! Once you sign up, there’s a big prominent button that says “upload video.” Click on it and follow the instructions. When it asks for a description, somewhere in there make sure you add the words “Mambo for Myeloma.” Then publish and share! You can copy that link on your Facebook page, email it to your friends and family, or blog it. If you ask me, Facebook is the best place for it. And please post a link to the Facebook page called Mambo for Myeloma Dance Challenge Starts Here!, that way we can all marvel at your new video.
Here are a few Mambo for Myeloma Dances to get your creative juices flowing.
Keep reading...
Friday, October 3, 2014
Divorced Moms: Ladies, the ex is not (usually) your enemy
My latest on Divorced Moms. Enjoy! And Happy Friday.
Ladies: The Ex Is Not (Usually) Your Enemy
by Lizzy Smith
Some lessons are learned the (very) hard way. Such is the story of my (now ex) husband, his ex-wife, and me.
When I first met Rob, he told me about his horrible ex-wife, “Tina.” She was crazy, jealous that he met me, didn’t want to work (though she did work fulltime), wanted all his money, was using the children just to get more child support, was a screamer and, well, I could go on and on. I felt so sorry for him and after we got married, I grew to really dislike Tina. After all, I believed everything Rob said about her and those first (strong) initial impressions took a long time to slowly wither away and die, but I digress.
Once Rob and I married, Tina became my mortal enemy. When Rob’s explosive personality began to appear (he hid this side of him completely when we were dating), he blamed it squarely on Tina. She taught him those communication skills. If it wasn’t for Tina, he would manage conflict better (sure, no doubt! I cannot believe I accepted that line of bullshit). When I discovered his alcoholism, Rob blamed that, too, on her. Tina was his trigger (always had been). If only he had never been married that horrible woman, I thought, Rob never had turned to alcohol to cope. Every time Rob and Tina went back to court, it was all her fault, she just wanted money and to punish him for moving on. Everything bad in our marriage was because of Tina, Tina, Tina.
A few years into our marriage, I had an epiphany: maybe everything Rob said about Tina was a lie. Or, maybe, just maybe, there was another side to this story. Maybe all this “it’s Tina’s fault” wasn’t exactly true. Instead of hating Tina, maybe I should feel sorry for her. Hmmm…
Keep reading...
Ladies: The Ex Is Not (Usually) Your Enemy
by Lizzy Smith
October 03, 2014
Some lessons are learned the (very) hard way. Such is the story of my (now ex) husband, his ex-wife, and me.
When I first met Rob, he told me about his horrible ex-wife, “Tina.” She was crazy, jealous that he met me, didn’t want to work (though she did work fulltime), wanted all his money, was using the children just to get more child support, was a screamer and, well, I could go on and on. I felt so sorry for him and after we got married, I grew to really dislike Tina. After all, I believed everything Rob said about her and those first (strong) initial impressions took a long time to slowly wither away and die, but I digress.
Once Rob and I married, Tina became my mortal enemy. When Rob’s explosive personality began to appear (he hid this side of him completely when we were dating), he blamed it squarely on Tina. She taught him those communication skills. If it wasn’t for Tina, he would manage conflict better (sure, no doubt! I cannot believe I accepted that line of bullshit). When I discovered his alcoholism, Rob blamed that, too, on her. Tina was his trigger (always had been). If only he had never been married that horrible woman, I thought, Rob never had turned to alcohol to cope. Every time Rob and Tina went back to court, it was all her fault, she just wanted money and to punish him for moving on. Everything bad in our marriage was because of Tina, Tina, Tina.
A few years into our marriage, I had an epiphany: maybe everything Rob said about Tina was a lie. Or, maybe, just maybe, there was another side to this story. Maybe all this “it’s Tina’s fault” wasn’t exactly true. Instead of hating Tina, maybe I should feel sorry for her. Hmmm…
Keep reading...
My first cooking demo on Youtube! Immune compromised? Eating fresh fruits and veggies is an option!
Siena and I had so much fun working on my first cooking demo for www.myelomacrowd.org! One of the hardest things about having no immune system when going through chemo is that everything eaten must be super safe and ultra processed. After a day or so of eating frozen burritos and canned soups, I was seriously going crazy. True, some people are so sick that eating anything isn't possible. But there are many who can eat and want to eat healthy food. What to do? Cooking the heck out of fresh fruits and veggies and enjoy! Of course, always speak with your doctor before doing this.
So while my video is kind of long, the really entertaining part is watching and listening to Siena. She makes me laugh every single day. So here goes - enjoy! And if you're feeling hungry, try this recipe. It really is "that" delicious.
Neutropenic and wanting to eat fruits & veggies? There is hope!
BY LIZZY SMITH
One of the hardest parts of being neutropenic is eating choices. Nausea, diarrhea, constipation and food aversions aside, simply eating healthy is a challenge. Typically, fresh fruits and veggies are not an option because of the potential for contracting food-born illnesses. Or are they? Actually, if you cook the heck out of them, they can be! Make sure that if you opt for fresh produce, you thoroughly cook, boil, steam, bake, or sauté them. And, when in doubt, cook them even more. Here is one recipe we love.
(As always, talk to your doctor before proceeding.)
Veggie, Shrimp & Chicken Sausage Pasta
-Chicken Sausage, pre-cooked
-Shrimp, fresh or frozen
-1 package of pasta (your choice)
-Extra virgin olive oil (for coating pan)
-Sea salt (for flavoring)
-Artichoke hearts in oil or canned (optional)
-Olives (optional, type of olives your choice– suggestions black or kalamata)
-Tomatoes
-Peppers (green, yellow, red, orange)
-Yellow onion
-Several garlic cloves
-Mushrooms
-Asparagus
-Spinach
-Fresh mozzarella cheese
-1 bottle of pasta sauce
Boil water in large stockpot. When water comes to a full boil, salt the water and place the pasta in the pot until it is thoroughly cooked. Drain.
Cut up all vegetables, garlic and onion. Heat sauté pan and generously coat with olive oil. Add onions until they start to brown. Add the other vegetables except the spinach. Add the entire contents of the pasta sauce, artichokes, and olives. Turn stovetop to medium and let it simmer for 20-30 minutes, or until cooked thoroughly. Add the spinach and allow to simmer an additional 10 minutes until thoroughly cooked. Add mozzarella cheese. Serve over pasta.
To visit the full article, click here.
One of the hardest parts of being neutropenic is eating choices. Nausea, diarrhea, constipation and food aversions aside, simply eating healthy is a challenge. Typically, fresh fruits and veggies are not an option because of the potential for contracting food-born illnesses. Or are they? Actually, if you cook the heck out of them, they can be! Make sure that if you opt for fresh produce, you thoroughly cook, boil, steam, bake, or sauté them. And, when in doubt, cook them even more. Here is one recipe we love.
(As always, talk to your doctor before proceeding.)
Veggie, Shrimp & Chicken Sausage Pasta
-Chicken Sausage, pre-cooked
-Shrimp, fresh or frozen
-1 package of pasta (your choice)
-Extra virgin olive oil (for coating pan)
-Sea salt (for flavoring)
-Artichoke hearts in oil or canned (optional)
-Olives (optional, type of olives your choice– suggestions black or kalamata)
-Tomatoes
-Peppers (green, yellow, red, orange)
-Yellow onion
-Several garlic cloves
-Mushrooms
-Asparagus
-Spinach
-Fresh mozzarella cheese
-1 bottle of pasta sauce
Boil water in large stockpot. When water comes to a full boil, salt the water and place the pasta in the pot until it is thoroughly cooked. Drain.
Cut up all vegetables, garlic and onion. Heat sauté pan and generously coat with olive oil. Add onions until they start to brown. Add the other vegetables except the spinach. Add the entire contents of the pasta sauce, artichokes, and olives. Turn stovetop to medium and let it simmer for 20-30 minutes, or until cooked thoroughly. Add the spinach and allow to simmer an additional 10 minutes until thoroughly cooked. Add mozzarella cheese. Serve over pasta.
To visit the full article, click here.
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