Why retire?

For me, retirement has been a huge adjustment. We all talk about it, plan for it, look forward to it and then BLAM! It happens. I didn't expect to do it so early but circumstances and my health made that decision for me. When I retired from my school job I already had a job to step in to. Even better than that, the job was in the same town where I'd taught all those years so I didn't have to learn much of anything new. The kids I had known at the high school were now the adults I served at the public library. I had gone full circle and it was so satisfying. Teachers can't always know what influence they have on the lives they touch but I had the rare privilege of seeing the end product in many cases.

The first six months of 2006 did me in. I had surgery in January, surgery in February, and throat dilation in March. My speech and my ability to swallow were seriously compromised. Not being able to swallow led to weight loss and that contributed to fatigue and depression. My sister bought me a Magic Bullet blender and I drank gallons of Boost laced with bananas and any other fruit I could think of. Solid food was pretty much out of the question. I choked so easily that I kept everyone on edge. Even with all this, I had a trip planned to Boston in March and I was determined to go; another selfish move. A more considerate person would have stayed home. As always the ladies I traveled with were great. We'd been down similar roads and they knew I would work hard not to hold anyone back. I was able to keep up for the most part but meals were trying. One of the women had to do a Heimlich maneuver in the food court of a big Boston mall but we were prepared for that eventuality and we pulled it off without any hysteria. The secret is not to panic and for me, not to eat rice.

By July of 2006 I was exhausted. I had not given myself time to recover from the operations I had had earlier in the year and I paid for it. Everyone saw it coming but me. Have I mentioned that I'm hard headed? The pure hard truth of it is that my health has improved drastically. My speech is intelligible and I can swallow solid food. I've gained a little weight and I have a better attitude. I volunteer at a local botanical garden and I go to the YMCA for some much needed exercise. I spend lots of time with my family and I'm free to run errands in the daytime. I can say that I feel myself adjusting but I can also say, it hasn't been easy.

Thank You

I've shared hospital rooms with people who had to take a bus or taxi home when they were discharged. Imagine that if you can. I can't. My family is all about taking care of one another. At the first hint of crisis we gather. I've never driven myself to the hospital and I've never gone into surgery without my family around me. This is serious business. The things that can go wrong are unfathomable. I am surrounded by them when I go to sleep and they are there when I wake up. There were times when they waited as long as 14 hours. We don't know how to do it any other way. The credit for this phenomen goes to my parents. They raised us to work as a team. We are friends who enjoy one another's company. In today's climate of fractured families this is a remarkable achievement.

Psalm of Life

I was required to memorize this poem when I was in 10th grade (1966?). I also memorized Thanatopsis and Man with a Hoe but I don't remember one line of either. But this poem by Longfellow hit me like a ton of bricks. That was over 40 years ago. I guess you could say it's my outline for life. Over the years this poem has helped me steer a course. I can't remember a time in my life that it did not help me stay on track and keep me moving forward.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882)

A PSALM OF LIFE
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST

Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

Life is but an empty dream ! —

For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.
Life is real ! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal ; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way ; But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave, Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life, Be not like dumb, driven cattle ! Be a hero in the strife !
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant ! Let the dead Past bury its dead ! Act,— act in the living Present ! Heart within, and God o'erhead !
Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time ;
Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main, A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.

Fun with Tubes and Drains

Buried just under the surface I am a 13 year old boy who has a morbid fascination for gross stuff and head and neck cancer is gross. Of course, gross isn't any fun without a reaction. We expect our body fluids to stay inside our bodies but when we have head and neck cancer we learn to accept otherwise. Unfortunately I learned I could get a laugh and I admit I'm shameless. I'll always go for the laugh, the cheaper the better.
The hole in my palate got some good laughs. I could spew a glass of milk out of my nose! I'm not kidding. Chunks of food would come out if I sneezed while I was eating. One day I blew a scrambled egg across the kitchen. Torie, my niece, loved that part. I took the obturator out of my mouth before going to bed and cleaned it and put it in a glass of water, like dentures. If she was with me, Torie would stand by the sink and watch. I kept a little flashlight in the bathroom so we could look at the hole together and marvel about what might be in there. What little kid wouldn't love that? Dr. Suen made the residents and interns look around in there too. Not every patient offered an unobstructed view of a sinus cavity. I'm a bit of a sponge and Dr. Suen is always instructing so I picked up some anatomy over the years.
Then there were the drains. Drains are plastic cups attached to small tubes that are sewn into an incision to gather the gross stuff that comes out of a wound. The object is to measure the gross stuff at intervals and when the cup stays empty for x number of hours the drain can come out. If the drain was in a large incision I stayed in the hospital until the cup didn't collect any gross stuff. If it was a small incision I could go home with the drain and take care of it myself. You know I shared every chance I got.
An NG or nasogastric tube is a real ice breaker. This bright yellow tube threads through the nostril and into the stomach. Mine was for food, medicine, and water until I healed enough to swallow. I poured cans of liquid nutrient into a bag, hooked the bag to a gravity pole and fastened the end of the tube to the bag. I called that eating. Eventually, to entertain myself, I experimented with other liquids like coffee and beer. This tube was highly visible because it literally hung out of my nose. To keep from snagging it on something and dislodging it I hooked the tube over my right ear and let it dangle down in back. I was going for casual but smart. I refused to hide for weeks at a time while I healed so my tube went everywhere I went. People worked so hard to ignore it. Bank tellers, cashiers, people in the grocery aisles became preoccupied with something on the floor or over my head. Not so with little kids. They stared with frank fascination and curiosity. If the parent seemed receptive I'd explain why I had a yellow tube hanging out of my nose, if not, the kid and I just acknowledged one another with a nod and a wink.
This approach doesn't work for everyone. Some things are just not funny but I know that I have to find humor, no matter how grim the situation, before I can cope. Without laughter I'm lost.

"HATS ON TO MS. SIMMONS!"

Any kind of head wear was expressly forbidden at Bryant High School so my daily caps gave the kids a kick. One morning I was going in the front door and I saw a girl in a cowboy hat. This is the south and kids wear cowboys hats on a regular basis, but not to school. I told her she'd better lose the hat before class or she'd be in trouble with somebody. Being a sweet kid she said okay and I went into the building. There was another kid wearing a hat. Then there was another one. As I looked around I saw that everybody was wearing some kind of hat or cap, even the teachers! I was swept down the hall in a crush of hatted people and stopped in front of a huge banner taped to the wall. "HATS ON TO MS. SIMMONS!" It was about 12 feet long and signed by the faculty and the student body. They stood around me cheering. For once I was speechless. Finally I was able to thank them for everything they'd done for me. The entire day felt like a carnival. The local newspaper came to school and interviewed me about this terrific tribute. One of the TV stations came and ran a spot on the evening news. A picture of me and my banner made the front page of the paper but more importantly, adults were allowed a glimpse of what I saw all the time; teenagers doing for others. Kids I'd never talked to came by to wish me well. Some told me cancer survival stories about themselves or their family members. They all hugged me. I was enveloped in positive energy that I needed to propel me through the next several months. "HAT DAY" was officially over at 3:30 that afternoon but we moved the banner into the library and put the photos and poems on the bulletin board where I would be reminded of all the love that surrounded me.

Teen Angels

Teenagers are the best. They don't get the credit they deserve. When I started chemo in the winter of 2001 kids came out of the woodwork to share their stories and cheer me on. My treatment was a 3 day hospital stay every 3 weeks. They felt more like 3 years every 3 minutes. I'd almost start feeling better when it was time to go do it again. I went to work as much as possible during this for selfish reasons; I needed those kids. They were all so alive and their energy was contagious. I derived strength and determination from just being around them.
Before I stopped wearing my wig the kids made it their business to monitor my appearance. Because the wig was itchy and bothersome I was always digging at it. Of course, that made it crooked or shifted it. It was common for some kid, usually a boy, to say to me, "Stand still, Ms. Simmons. You've knocked your hair crooked." He would then gently tug it back into place and go on about his business.

There's a Hair in my Soup

I was going to wear the wig, honest. I had every intention of wearing the wig. It was a cute wig. It was a short style in a sort of neutral color and a little reminiscent of Doris Day. Why would I pick a wig like that? My hair was short and stick straight and practically maintenance free. Why did I think bald was going to be bad enough to subject myself to what amounted to a fuzzy fur cap? Obviously chemo clouds your judgement.
Fourteen days after starting Taxol my hair was coming out. The stories I'd heard about it washing down the drain in the shower and falling into my food were true. I went to my hairdresser and she cut it VERY short. I wasn't ready to let go. Then I was shedding worse than the cat and I had to just do it. Debbie and I went to the back porch with scissors and a razor and she shaved my head bald. WOW! But I was ready. I had my wig.
We tried so hard to make it be okay but I looked like a baby bird. I have an absurd sense of humor and I can laugh at myself but this was a stretch even for me. I had to put on that stupid wig and go out in public! I was kicking myself for buying something so conservative. I should have gone to a costume store and bought ridiculous wigs of purple or lime green fiber optics. I wouldn't have felt any more self-conscious. But, alas, I was a public school librarian and society has its expectations so I donned my unremarkable wig and went to school.
The faculty and the kids were great. I hate feeling like the elehant in the room so when it was appropriate I initiated conversation about my new hairdo. People often hesitate to bring up the obvious because our mothers taught us to be polite and not stare. This might work for some people but I hate it. It is what it is, so say it.
Spring comes early in Arkansas and it's warm and humid. Wigs are hot and itchy. I hate to be uncomfortable. That equation decided my next move. I had already started pulling it off in the car on the way home so I just needed to take the next step. On a warm afternoon after school I just did it. Standing in the office, visiting with good friends before going home, I just yanked the damn thing off. We were all surprised. It was a spontaneous move and I couldn't take it back. There I stood, bald and vulnerable. In just a second we were laughing and I received the validation I needed to throw the wig in a drawer forever.