My mind has cleared enough for me to organize my movements. I'm finally starting to get my life back in order starting with cleaning the piles of clutter from my house.
I have started to organize our second floor which turns into a no man's land during my periods of disability.
Being sick for so long, I recognize the cycles. Four to six months of treatment and eveything gets thrown every year. The rest of the year is dedicated to reorganizing and figuring out what we need, what we don't, and what to do with everything else.
When Jon and I built our house we had a specific vision of our life. We built a cape with a master suite on the first floor (my best decision ever) fully equipped with a master bath and walk-in closet for me.
The rest of the bedrooms we placed on the second floor along with one large bathroom and plenty of storage. One large bedroom is dedicated to Xander built specifically so Jon could give X the room, and hopefully life, he had always dreamed of growing up in a 6X9 room of a trailer. The other two, which had been created in anticipation of adding to our family, have been made into guest rooms hobby rooms.
We certainly didn't expect that I would not be able to climb the stairs to access any of the space on the second floor.
Our house is gorgeous.
It's just not handicap friendly.
I've consolidated most my hobbies to the first floor. I have a little corner office in the living room with my computer equipment.
Now I'm starting to eye a little corner of the dining room for art supplies.
We also have a large fabulous basement.
Do I/ can I go down there?
Absolutely not, never ever.
It's dusty and unfinished. My lungs start screaming just when I look at it.
On the brightside, doing the laundry is no longer my chore. Prior to my steroids, I had no chores.
It's been hard for me to manuever back into the world of the functional living.
What exactly am I supposed to do with myself?
What are my roles here? When I was diagnosed I defined myself as a hundred different people: a wife, mom, nurse, student, artist.
Now I have no definition, and telling people I'm a cancer patient makes for some interesting discussions, but it's not a title I want to hold on to.
Cancer survivor, now I'm liking that.
I'm going with artist: My new entrepreneurial effort, maybe, a little online store attached to the page.
This past summer I started making jewelrly in hopes I could bring in extra income. Maybe that's where I'm headed.
I'm taking a pottery class Weds. in Hanover. With the steroids, I felt a compulsive need to be doing something with my hands at all times.
I knitted during my first transplant, but never moved beyond scarves. I also was TERRIBLE. You could tell when I would get sick or drugged. The knots would be tight, then loose, and then there would be holes, but they were filled with love.
I found two scarves waiting for me to finish yesterday. They've been waiting about three years now.
I like art that provides some instant gratification.
We'll see where the road leads. I've been enjoying myself day in and day out. Xander and I were able to manage this past week with Jon out of town on business. X is now on my schedule (6:30 am waking and 8pm bedtime) which makes me happy.
It seems to be making him happy to, his teacher said he's been having a great week. That could have had something to do with the crystals he brought in to share with the class on Monday. He actually requested to do a presentation on rocks. Now, whose son is that?
We've also been discussing his anxiety and anger issues. It is so much easier with his developing language, but I'll keep that for another time.
Off to start my day, I have a date to explore the upper valley, specifically Simon Pearce today, something I have always wanted to do but never had the chance.