Tag Archives: Conditions and Diseases

A mixed week – Dealing with a child with behavioral issues: Total Transformation #13

Littlest Dude rocked his test scores again this week.  After a little friction with the studying last week, this week we started on Monday, and he knew his stuff by Friday.  It’s all about routine.

Speaking of routine… If you remember, my two youngest like to sleep together.  The new rule is they have to sleep in their own rooms and go to bed without problems the first time we ask on the weekdays.

This week they won (Yay) and I agreed to the slumber party.  Problem is, they wanted to stay up all night.  It was not a pleasant experience for the rest of us.

I discussed with them that I didn’t think it was working, and let THEM tell me why.  I asked how would we know if it is working, they both said “We will go to bed and go to sleep on time on the weekends.”

Okay – That part done.  It went almost text-book, although we’ll have to see how it all pans out.  We are giving them another chance to “Win” the privilege of having slumber parties Friday and Saturday night. I’ll speak to them again about my expectations of those “parties” if they win.  They know they will lose the privilege on Saturday is they act inappropriately (we try not to say bad) on Friday.

Follow-up:  On Monday I got a call from Hubby not long after the kids went to school.  He was very disgusted because he had a very heated argument with Littlest Dude about getting ready for school. I was happy to hear him say “I just undid everything we’ve worked for”.

I told him that we will all experience setbacks (goodness knows I have) and that we need to keep working at it.  We discussed that we will have to “reprogram” Littlest Dude on Sunday nights before he goes to bed to let him know what we are expecting the next day.

Why do we need to do this?  Remember, his wiring is different.  Our older children can understand that things are different on weekends from weekdays.  He needs to be reminded and ready, or his “mind” will still be in weekend mode.

We’re going to try that next week.

Other than that, though, the week was really nice.  My eight year old even had a friend over, and the three of them played wonderfully together.

Not too shabby.

How about a 250 word critique blog hop?

Note:  I’ll be posting a follow-up on my cancer surgery tomorrow.

Critique Hop:

Well, I tried to get you guys to contribute what you were working on, but that only seemed to spark moderate interest.

I’m trying to think of a way we can flop around each other’s sites and help each other out.

What about posting up to 250 words of what we are working on, and hopping around and critiquing each other’s work? Maybe make it a rule that you will hop to whomever gives you a critique, and critique theirs? (Everyone would post on their own blog)

That way the more you critique, the more you get back in return. Anyone interested? This is something we can do weekly, even maybe post the same thing as you improve it.  I know a lot of people don’t have beta readers, and this would be like gold to them.

I thought this would be a great way to get quick thoughts on our first pages.  After all, it’s the most important page of your book, right?

And yes… that means if you give me a well-thought-out critique, I will do the same for you.

What do you think?  Interested?

JenniFer_EatonF

I’ll be going through another round of Cancer surgery today.

Yeah, I know what you’re thinking… didn’t she already have skin cancer surgery?  Yes, I did. Twice. This is number three.

The first spot was on my ear.  I had a full body check and everything else was fine.  The next spot popped up less than a year later on my arm.  Same thing… the rest of my body was fine.  Last June, another odd little spot appeared on my leg, and here I am.

Are you ready for the rant to wear sunscreen?  Well here it is.  WEAR SUNSCREEN DERNIT!  Believe me.  It’s just not worth it.  Hey Australia – You guys should slather yourself with it all the time.  Here in the USA, most of us don’t even think of it in the winter, but the truth is, the sun is the sun no matter what time of year it is.  You can’t feel it because it is cold out, but believe me.  It’s still there, and it can still cause damage.

This mohs surgery will take between four to twelve hours.  Most take four to six hours.  My own dermatologist has already removed the visible cancer, but the scar is already showing signs of the original infection.  The surgeon will remove what he can see, test it, and if cancer shows up, he will come back and remove more… and test it.  This will go one for as long as it takes until they no longer find any traces of cancer… and Yes, unfortunately… I will be awake through the entire procedure.

Are you diving for your sunscreen yet?  I would be.

Slather on that SPF 30 or higher and be safe… and if you get a spare moment… pray that I caught this in time and I will only have to go through one round of this surgery.

Flash Fiction Friday on Wednesday – The Long Walk

First of all… If you haven’t signed up for Write a Story with me, hop on over and sign up.  Our authors are already plugging away.  What fun!  Sign up here.

Okay… now on to the important business of the day… Flash Fiction… Setting the timer for five minutes.  I have a bad headache, and I’m wondering what I can write with this kind of distraction.  Go…

I ease into the long hallway.  Whiteness blinds me.  Where does it go?  Should I really be here?

I turn back, but the door has closed.  No other path lies before me than the one straight ahead.  Lights swirl, voices of the past berate me.  Was I sad?  No.  But was I ever happy?  Did I do enough?

Three steps further.  The light is blinding.  How far must I go?  How far can I go?

The hallway ends.  The sounds stop.  All but a handle disappears.  I’m compelled to take it, to turn the handle and face what lies behind the door, but terror fills my soul.

I don’t know what lies on the other side.  I gasp for breath, but there is none.  The air disappears.  There is no longer a choice.  I must move on.  I grasp the handle, and turn.

A breeze hits my face.  Terror subsides.

I walk through.

.

(Time:  Four minutes … sans correcting typographical errors.)

Note:  No, I am not contemplating taking that “long walk”, but I did write this with a mild migraine, and the lights are hurting my brain.  That may be where that idea came from.

Cancer leaves Scars that you Cannot See

For those of you who may not be aware, I recently went through my second round of Cancer surgery.  If you’re interested in the kind, or the details, click here or here.

I’m cured at the moment.  Everything is fine.

Something unexpected happened to me the other day, though.

I sat on the floor, packing up the paperwork after finishing our taxes for the year.  I set one folder aside—the one with all the important investment information.  I realized that I was the only one in the house that even knew this folder existed, so I didn’t want to bury it in the filing cabinet.

My husband entered the room, and grabbed something from the table.

“Sweetie,” I said.  “Just in case anything ever happens to me, I need you to take this blue folder to a financial advisor.  He will tell you what to do.”

His face grew pale.  His expression blank.

I held up the folder.  “I will keep it on top so you can find it easily if you ever need it, okay?”

He stared at me for a moment more, before he burst into tears.  “It was just a little cancer spot,” he sobbed.  “You’re not allowed to die!”

I sat on the floor, stunned.  Actually dying was the furthest thing from my mind at the moment.  I was just trying to be a responsible adult.

I jumped up and held him, his tears dampened my blouse.  “Sweetie, that’s not what I meant.  I just want to make sure you and the kids would be okay if…”

“Don’t say it!”  His body shook in my arms.  “I can’t do this without you.  You can’t die first.  You can’t leave me alone.  I need you.”

“Sweetie, don’t worry.  I’m not going to die.”

We held each other for a while, silent.

My husband is my rock.  He stood beside me, holding my hand while they cut the cancer from my arm.  He changed my bandages.  He took care of me.  It never occurred to me that he was just as scared as I was.

For the first time in months, the children didn’t interrupt our brief moment of intimacy.  He needed that.

Maybe I needed that too.

Cancer Sucks. I can prove it.

Cancer Sucks.

Well, I guess it’s a given.  No one would disagree with me.  The good news is that I’m cancer free again.  Modern medicine is a wonderful thing.  Yes, skin cancer is curable (if you catch it in time).  But I don’t think people realize what they have to do to cure it.

My malignant basal cell was on my arm.  It was only about a quarter of an inch round.  Like the size of a squashed pea.  No biggie, right?

When I lay on that table, and they started drawing on my arm with a sharpie, I actually said:  “You don’t have to cut that much, do you?”

My surgeon explained that they have to cut bigger and wider so they can close it evenly.  He assured me that the scar wouldn’t be that big.  Okay… not really worried about the scar at that moment!

Holy freaking cow.  Get a ruler and draw a box that is a little over two inches long, and about three quarters of an inch wide.  Now put that baby on your arm.

Say what?  How stinking deep do you have to go?

Well, about ten minutes later, they were picking me up off the floor, and calling my husband in.

Okay, maybe I’m a wimp, but I think there should be a law that says you have to knock someone out before cutting two inches of flesh from their arm.  Sounds logical, right?

My husband is such a trooper.  He stood beside me and held my hand and talked me through it.  When they prepared to close me up an hour later, he glanced at my arm and his eyes told me everything that his fake smile did not.  Today, he told me he couldn’t believe how long and deep the cut was.

I don’t know what it looked like.  I kept my eyes on him.  I didn’t want to pass out again.

Not to gross you out, but this is what the stitches look like a day and a half later, from a pea-sized cancer cell.

Okay.  I lied.  I do want to gross you out.  Now will you go and buy some stinking sunscreen?  Yes, that scar is going almost completely across my arm.

Don’t be an idiot.  I did this to myself 25 years ago, when we didn’t know any better.  Now, we do know better.  Do your best to protect yourself.  Stay out of the sun, and if you can’t find shade, get some descent sunscreen.

Like I said before, if going through this helps a few of you to avoid it, it is all worthwhile.

You can go puke now.  (It’s okay, I don’t mind) and then get back to writing your novel.

(After you order some sunscreen— SPF 50 or higher.)