Changing expectations

There comes a point when you have to realize what can be, and what will never be.

This is quite obviously, not a San Diego update. That will come this evening, because I’m currently writing a whole bunch of computers to just try and get my head back to where it needs to be.

My last day at my full time job is tomorrow.

Tomorrow. (Kinda makes you want to sing “Annie” doesn’t it?)

However, the woman who is replacing me, has now had 2 weeks in which to semi grasp what the job description is. Ask questions. Ask how she needs to be doing things.

She hasn’t.

The questions she has asked, though? How do you open a document when you’re already in Word?

How do you turn on and off the computer?

How do I type a list if there is already something written here?

Training her on customer service skills and how to answer a phone in a professional environment, instead of just answering with a “Hello.”

I don’t mean for this blog post to be offensive. I don’t mean for it to be bitchy. I don’t mean for it to be a rant.

But it is a way for me to be able to express myself, and my frustrations. And I am frustrated to the point of exasperation and high blood pressure. I almost don't know how to answer these questions. Because honestly, I have never had to teach someone that when you are in a professional environment, you don't answer a phone "hello."

((You also never bring religious books in either, especially ones about "Finding your better God" because it makes many people uncomfortable. Including the physician you share an office with. Who works with children who sometimes die of their cancer, and it's awful. But that's a story for a different time I think...))

My father has taught me to do things right the first time. “Touch it once, Whitney, and let it be done the proper way. You’ll never have to go back and do it again.”

My office is covered in post it notes that say the same thing. Because the same questions are being asked, over and over and over again. There is zero ability to multi-task. There is literally no ability to retain information that has been given more than once. In fact, there isn’t even any recognition that the information has already been given to her.

I worked hard to make the program run in a way that was successful over the past 2+ years. I worked hard to make it organized, and to be sure I was receiving comments from students that were “this is the most organized a clerkship has been all year.”

And now, for all of that work, to feel like it’s slipping away and was for nothing? I’m sad to leave; I’m certainly not going to miss everyone I work with. But I am going to miss making sure that there are students who were being taken care of in a way that was aiming to make them as successful as they wanted to be.

And now I’m nervous for these new students. I am nervous for this woman. Because students who pay over $60,000 a year to go to school? They want things done right the first time.

And it’s not going to happen.

An Evening of Will Power

Sorry all, this post has been a long time coming.

On April 24, JM and I were able to attend the First Annual Evening of Will Power, hosted by the Brave Will Foundation. This foundation was started last year after a couple, Matt and Tammy, lost their 6 month old son, to cancer. AT/RT to be exact, which is an absolutely devastating form of cancer. One that has few treatment options, and one that has very little research. One that comes with a crushing feeling. I can't begin to tell their story, but I will say that their family has touched both mine and JM's life forever.

At the time of Will's diagnosis, JM was working on the pediatric floor of Albany Med at nights. He was one of the many people who fell in love with, and became attached to this baby, and his family, over night. They are a family that exudes love, humility, grace and strength, even through the worst of their cancer treatments. Through the worst of their fears and the worst of their struggles. When they were told that their son wasn't going to make it through the weekend. When he responded to treatment, and they were given hope. And when they were told that the cancer had spread and it was time to focus on the time they had left. They were courageous. They were pillars of strength. They are to be admired.

Will eventually responded enough to treatment to get discharged from the inpatient floor, and come into the clinic where my office is to receive outpatient chemo, which is where I fell in love with his family immediately. I had heard stories from JM about them, and he was right. They too, are adults with young children whom he and I look up to, just as So-Ro's family is.

These are some pictures from the event, which is raising money to help fund the palliative care program and to help fund the social workers who work with families, not just patients, while they are facing such times of uncertainty.

Their logo.

Their Mission Statement, which is truly impressive and inspiring. This is a foundation who has come from the depths of despair to try to help other families who are facing uncertain times just as they have.

The picture that is also the cover of their book, which is a compilation of all of the journal entries that Matt wrote while Will was going through treatment. (Suggestion: Please be sure to have a box of tissues readily available).

This is a "picture of a picture" that was taken of Matt and Tammy's two other sons, after Will's passing. They too, are absolutely phenomenal boys, who make you smile, and truly present themselves the way that every parent hopes and wishes that their child will turn out. (It also doesn't hurt that they are fabulously photogenic, and completely and fantastically cute).

The wall of pictures that were hung up during the gala, from times of hospital stays, last days, and the time after Will's passing.

So, to those people who are looking for a way to help, buy a copy of Matt's book here and also learn more about their foundation.

To Matt and Tammy, and the rest of the people who are making this foundation into something that is truly going to affect people's lives, you are amazing. You are parents who love to such an extent that it brings tears to peoples' eyes and truly changes their lives. You are parents who have such strength that even through the turns in the road that would break most people, you have risen. You have given each and every person who meets you, or hears of Will's story something to keep in mind during the toughest of days. You have changed people's lives for the better, making us better people, better friends, better families, and better couples.

Thank you.

St. Baldrick's

......

is 5 days away.

Holy.

Freaking.

Cow.

This came up fast. Yes, I understand that there is a lot that can't be done until the last minute. But man oh mannnn. We are going to have a TON of people at the event this year. (More details can be found here). We are going to have GREEN hair extensions. We are going to have bands. We are going to have food.

And raffles.

And cupcakes (!!!!!!)

And a whole lot of people deciding to shave their heads to better the world, and to show unity with children who have such a hard fight in the beast that is cancer.

This weekend is for all those kids who are still fighting.

It is an event for all those kids who courageously fought their battle, but were called to be angels instead.

It is for all those people who don't understand the lack of funding and research that goes into pediatric cancer research.

And how, having a parent, or friend, or community member shave their head to show a child how brave, courageous, daring, humble, and graceful they are during their battle, that they are not alone.

We are here. We are raising money. We are working and fighting for you.

So seriously. Click here. Or here. Because JM is shaving his head. And he would appreciate donations too.

5 days. So far, over $34,000. Goal is $75,000. Help us get there. Help us conquer this "C" word that takes so many people we love. Because without help, and without faith, and without donations, we're still where we are today.

From a Shavee

Whit..it looks great. Life is full of signs. I always wanted to buzz my hair and you were my sign. You gave me a reason and a cause to do something I always wanted to do. I have raised over $500 for kids, for kids who every day will deal with hardships I can't even imagine.

I listen to people talk about how attached to their hair they are. I look at them and I remember my grandma who was terrified when she found out she had cancer. I remember seeing a family video of the Christmas she found out she had cancer. She was always the matriarch of the family. I remember the camera going around the room and in the background she was standing with a look I can’t describe. There was my Grandma, a woman who would stand up with grace and honor in all situation, scared and unsure of what the future would hold.

It’s just hair. People ask me how I can buzz my hair off. It’s my choice. What about the people who don’t have a choice? What about the people who don’t get to choose if they lose their hair, what about those who have to go through grueling rounds of chemo like champs, what about those who don’t get to choose what happens in the end? We are giving our hair for them.

I always wanted a reason to buzz my hair. I feel like when I do things I don’t want them to be pointless. I don’t just get a tattoo because it’s cool, it has to have a meaning. I don’t just organize a protest to stand out, it has to be for a cause I believe in. I don’t just speak up for those who can’t, I do it because I believe everyone has the right to be heard. I didn’t just want to buzz my hair, I wanted to do it for a reason. I met Whitney LIll and she gave me a reason.

Sometimes I don’t think people realize the power they hold. I worked for Habitat one college Spring Break. I built a house for a family. They were so thankful that I gave up a week of my time to help build them a place to live. Imagine if every single person gave up one day to help build a house...could we prevent homelessness? What else could we do if we united as a people? Just think about it....

Maria~Over and Out

CHOP!

It has happened....

The hair.

Has.

Been.

Cut!!!

This is the picture that I have sent to the "People" while I was in the grocery store, in the snow, after the chopping session.

This is the picture of the pony tail. Yes, I was twirling my hair all day yesterday prior to "The Cut." That's why it's all twisty. Good news, the wig making people just want the hair, even if it is all twisty.

Ok, so now for the story.

I believe in signs. I believe that sometimes God gives you signs and shows you reasons to do things. Yesterday was one of those days.

My hairdresser is about to have a baby (YAY AMY!!!) And I texted her yesterday morning asking her if there was ANY chance she could squeeze me in in the next couple of days/weeks to chop my hair. Because lets face it, my hair is my thing. It's healthy and lovely and beautifully blonde hair.

So, I text her. And I wait, and I wait... and I wait. And THEN, So-Ro's super fabulous Mom comes into clinic. For the first time since So-Ro passed. And she's doing fabulously well, and looks like an all-star and pulled together, and just like the elegant rock that she is. This woman, I tell you, is the epitomy of grace, humility and steadfastness. So anyways, she comes in, and gives us these bracelets and pins and more mass cards that we didn't get at the wake. So, I have this new bracelet and a new pin and a new mass card. And in front of me is a woman who has buried her 6 year old daughter. And I'm concerned about cutting my hair. Sheeshka.

And so, I go back to my office, after about 35 hugs, and look at my phone.

And Amy has texted me, saying that she has an opening at 4:30. As in. THAT day at 4:30. So I have a little bit of a panic, and then I remember Mom So-Ro, and figure, hey, this is a sign.

So, I text Amy back, take the appointment, twirl my hair for the rest of the day, and go and chop it off.

And that, is how it's done. I am shipping the big pony tail tomorrow afternoon, as right now Albany is currently getting extremely snowed on, and well, my car isn't exactly the rock star in the snow that I would need it to be. And, to those who voted in the poll, the actual length is 12.5 inches. Rock. On.

I'm off to go flip and flounce with my new bouncy, short hair.

Oh and PS, JM, while has been prepared for this for over a year now, is adjusting well. He likes the cut and style, it's just that I sort of look like a different person now. ((He actually came into the kitchen last night when I got home and forgot/did a double take on the back of my head. Haha. It's ok. Last year when he shaved his head, it took me close to 3 weeks. Still love ya babe. Don't worry, it'll grow back :) ))

There's beauty in the breakdown (and other random updates)

***Before we get to the rest of the post. I am impressed by the people who have voted in the poll about my hair. Not gonna lie, I measured it on Sunday, and it's looking like I am going to be able to donate a LOT. Definitely more than 8 inches, because let's face it, I have definitely had my eyes peeled for super cute "short bobs" recently. And photo suggestions are appreciated. But seriously. 8 inches is NOT that much (hahah that's what she said!)***

So, as many of you (yay!!! 12!) are probably dying to know... the breakdown has come (and gone, for the most part).

After attending So-Ro's wake last Tuesday, I found it hard to write.
I found it hard to breathe, or speak or do anything, but cry.
And eat carbs.
(Which we are severely officially imiting due to the fact that it's now FEBRUARY which means that I need to get my butt in gear/shape for the rest of... uh. my life.)

But after watching a family stand so stoically beside their 6 year old daughter and comforting the people who waited in an almost 2 hour long line (and Mom was in heels no less!) I lost it.
Such a beautiful child, taken much too soon, and a family who has lost a ray of its sunshine who shared light and love and laughter, even in the grayest of times.
A family that can define themselves by the grace that they maintain, the strength that they show others, and the love they have for eachother and for the life and experiences they had with a beautiful, brave, graceful, smiling, laughing daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter and friend.

I remember telling Mom So-Ro, that I had decided that I have many role models in life. You have the role models as a child that you want to "be" when you grow up. But once you reach adulthood, I have realized that there are many different "life stage" role models. Mom So-Ro is the mother I hope to be, to the children I one day hope to have. The mother who is able to stand in the face of complete uncertainty and hardship and think about someone else, while they themselves are crumbling. The mother who gives themselves so completely to their children that a piece of her is forever with each of them. To be the mother who is the rock to all those around her because she is so completely with them, and they with her.

JM asked if I wanted to talk about it when I got home. After shaking my head "no," and sitting in a kitchen table chair for about 20 minutes, he came back to the table, looked at me with a bewildered almost expression and said "I don't know if you want me around or if you want to just be right now." It was comforting, and exactly what I needed. I then proceeded to tell him that once the tears stopped, I was definitely going to need him to just hold my hand and my heart. Which at that point, couldn't handle being alone.

That's the funny thing about loving someone. Their pain is yours, and yours is theirs. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you find friends, a partner, or just acquaintances who give you a hug (or a big tip if you're bartending which is similiar to a hug, except in money form from a stranger on a day that isn't so great) that know when to leave you alone, and when to step up their presence. JM is one of them. JS, the super fabulous roommate from heaven, is another. I dont't know what I would have been able to do without her the past couple of days. She has been available, around, able to talk, bringing chocolate (and a Pandora angel charm for So-Ro) and just an ear to listen. So, to JS, thank you. I couldn't be more thankful for having you around not only the past couple of days, but most certainly the past couple of months. JM and I will certainly be visiting you and the super fabulous fiance. But probably when you are the super fabulous newly married couple. Don't worry. We'll give you a chance to settle first :)

So, to all of you blog-readers, thank you. To all of my friends who have texted or asked how I was doing, thank you. To my family, who is far away, but I know I'm still in your thoughts and prayers, thank you.

Imperfect Life sometimes just g*d sucks.

And yes, that title of the post is from the Dr with whom I share an office.

And actually, the quote was. "What the f***. Cancer sucks and life is so G*D unfair."

Let me back up.

I work in a hospital.
I share an office with a pediatric hematologist/oncologist.
Yes, oncology.
Cancer doctor.
Yes, kids cancer doctor.
And sometimes, there are just those 5 year old girls that walk into clinic when you first start over 18 months ago, and grab your heart by the strings and don't let go.

And now, this girl is 6. And she's dying. And it just sucks.

So while I sit here, wallowing in my pity and tears and emotionally over-eating, I am asking myself why I am becoming a social worker. Because the lump in my throat is making it impossible to talk, or think. Because this girl and this family deserve nothing of what they have been dealt. This is the family with the parents you wish could parent every child out there. The mother who is rock. And the kids who are so funny and so energetic and lifelike. And the daughter who has stolen my heart.

So, putting it plainly... sometimes life is just crappily unperfect. Super, crappily, shit. Unfair, unwanted, and completely undeserved. It drives you crazy. And to the cookies. Good thing there was a panera delivery for lunch today.