The Return of the Stay-Puff Marshmallow Girl

So, I've been thinking a lot about this upcoming cycle lately. I don't know-call me a little crazy-but, I'm actually looking forward to it, in a sick and sort of stick-sharp-objects-in-your-body kind of way. However, there is one thing that I seriously need to do before we move forward.

Lose weight. Because, OH MY GOD, I can't stand the way I look right now. And it's not going to get any better once we add meds to the mix.

I've gained about 10-12 pounds in the last year, and that's not counting the fact that I was 15-20 pounds overweight to begin with. So, that means that I've gained a total of thirty pounds since I've started IF treatment. Holy motherfucking shit. Of course, some of that weight is in my boobs (I was already a D-cup when we started, and have slowly migrated to a DD), but not THIRTY POUNDS. That means that I am going to have to get serious when it comes to losing some of the weight before we start, which doesn't give me a lot of time. Plus, I've been such a lazy bitch when it comes to exercising. I just can't be bothered, which is NOT GOOD. I don't know if it's a sign that I just don't give a rat's ass, or that I need to get motivated, but I just can't stand it anymore. I have to do something about it, STAT.

So, I've had the online membership for WW since February of last year, and within the last two weeks have been tracking my food intake. My biggest problem is not what I eat, because we actually eat pretty healthfully-lots of whole grains, fresh fruit and veg, and we rarely cook or eat red meat (honestly, the only time I eat steak is when we go out to dinner) at home-but, I think my problem is a combo of the fact that I don't drink enough water throughout the day, and also that my dinner tends to be later because Sean doesn't get home until 7pm, which means we don't usually eat until 7:30-8pm. And, that's not really good when you want to lose weight. Add that to the fact that I'm not really exercising, and well......there you go. Thirty fucking pounds later.

It's just so damn frustrating. It's bad enough that I can't get pregnant on my own, but to LOOK like I'm pregnant (or like I've just had a baby) when I clearly haven't, is embarrassing. I guess I should console myself with the fact that at least it's somewhat evenly distributed throughout my body (but a lot of it is in my belly). Thank God for big tits, though....they make my belly look smaller. You've got to be happy for the small accomplishments in life, right? A big problem for me is that I don't have a "buddy" to help motivate me, so I get lazy. Sean's no help-he's on his feet all day long, so he burns his food as fast as he eats it. Plus, he's a man-and we all know they tend to lose faster. Fuckers. Not like he needs to anyway-he's got a nice flat stomach to fit in his 33" waisted pants. Bastard.

Now, it's time to get off my ass and move around. Enough talking about it....it's time to start acting on it. I'll be blogging on my progress, so if I cheeze out, I give any one of you out there full permission to kick my fat ass around the block. Whatever it takes, right?

Potpourri

Wow, I had NO idea that I haven't updated in four months!

I guess it's official-I am a total slacker when it comes to blogging lately. However, I'm discovering that "itch" to blog again, because I'm feeling a need to express myself here. I feel as if I can truly say what I feel, without having to explain why I feel that way. I don't need to make it all flowery and pretty and worry about not offending someone if I don't say it the "correct" way. Because, let's face it....that's not really me.

So.....what's been going on here? Sheesh, where do I begin?

School's out, as of this past Thursday. Let me tell you.....having a job that you like makes a hell of a difference in your mental state. I never realized how much I hated my former position until I started in my new job. Now, that's not to say that I love every single aspect of my job, because life ain't perfect, people. But, to work in a place with a support system, to feel as if you're an equal, contributing member of a faculty......let's just say that I'm going nowhere anytime soon. I can see myself retiring here, that's for sure.

As for the home front, well.....that's a different story. We've been dealt a major kick in the ass lately. About a month ago, my mother wasn't feeling too well-she was having pains on her right side, and went to the emergency room. The docs there thought that she might have a case of diverticulitis, so they decided to do a CAT scan to see what was up. They found that her colon was twisted on the right side, which was causing her the pain. But, it was what they also found that has changed everything.

They found a mass on her left ovary, and recommended seeing an oncologist.

Of course my mother, being a nurse herself, decided that she was going RIGHT AWAY to her regular gynie (who she sees yearly) to see what was up. He did an ultrasound, saw what was up, and concurred about seeing an oncologist. He ended up recommending someone on his floor, she got an appointment the next day (cancellation), and they scheduled a hysterectomy.

So, she went in for the surgery on May 29th. What they hadn't counted on was that the tumor was adhered to her bowel, pelvis and bladder, and that the entire area was inflamed. So, they biopsied as much as they could, and closed her up. We found out the next day that it was Stage III Ovarian Cancer. Considering my grandmother (my mom's mother) also died from ovarian cancer, we all took this pretty badly. The recommended course of treatment is that she gets chemo every three weeks (she had the first treatment as an inpatient, and her second is on Wednesday of this week), they'll redo the CAT scan to see if/how much the tumor has shrunk, and then, if all looks good, will reschedule the surgery and remove everything they need to.

To say that this was a blow to us is an understatement. My mother is a trooper though. She's feeling okay so far-mostly tired, but she started losing her hair last weekend, and decided on Thursday that she was going to shave it all off, rather than let it fall out gradually. Her doctors are optimistic about her chances of beating this, despite the diagnosis. It hasn't spread into the lymph nodes, which is good news. The recurrence rate isn't wonderful, though.....which worries me. But I know that she's in the best hands possible. And, in a really weird way, no amount of worrying is going to change the fact that my 57 year old mother has cancer. I just have to be there and support her and my dad as best as I can. Luckily I'm not working this summer, and we're not going away, so I can help out more.

So.....what do I decide to do in the wake of all this drama going on? Why, prepare for a fresh cycle, of course! Because I just can't seem to be able to have enough going on right now....let's add some infertility to the mix! Woot! What the FUCK am I thinking?

Well, I had a mini-freak out thinking that, what with injecting enough hormones to choke a woolly mammoth, I was next on the Big Casino list, so I emailed Dr. Pipsqueak with a shitload of questions (would I get cancer? should we cycle again? should I have the BRCA genetic tests?). She reassured me that (1). there is no proven correlation between reproductive cancer and fertility meds, (2). if my mom tested positive for the BRCA mutation, and I was tested, it would depend on my results (luckily, mom tested negative, so it wasn't passed on-woot!) and (3). there IS a corellation between INFERTILITY and ovarian cancer, so it would be to my benefit to get knocked up to lower my risk. In short, we need to cycle, and since I'm not getting younger, it needs to be soon.

Needless to say, we're updating our things with her office, to try to get in during the summer for a cycle, once the lab opens in mid-July. We were talking about cycling anyway, but now there is more of an urgency. Maybe I'm overthinking this whole thing, but I'm thinking that, if I can get knocked up and have a baby (or two, but at this point beggars can't be choosers!), and we know that we're done, I'll have a hysterectomy and hopefully be done with the whole potential cancer-y mess. That is, if it's a perfect world and everything works out. Which, in my case, never does.

So, I'm back in the IVF saddle, for the fifth time. Hey, do you think that they have a "frequent flyer" type of program for IF? Or a "buy four and get the fifth free"? Hell, I'd even take preferred parking, at this point. I guess that's just the old, crusty barren bitch in me, raring to get out.

It's good to be back, though. Hopefully there are still some of you out there, but if not, I'll just chat to myself and look like a crazy woman.......trust me, it won't be the first time.

Infertility, watch out.....I'm gonna kick you right in the cooter. Repeatedly.

Or, at least until a baby falls out of it.

The "All-Naturale" Approach

Since I'm not cycling right now, it's a bit weird blogging....I mean, what is there to write about? I'm not hormonal or bloated (not counting the FAT that's accumulated around my middle again...sheesh), shooting up fertility meds or massaging the Strawberry Shortcake-bandaided-covered lumps of progesterone on my ass.

Oh, wait.....not yet, at least. That fun is coming soon enough

It makes life rather boring, in a sick, demented sort of way.

So, I've been going for weekly acupuncture for almost a year now, and this time around the acu has also prescribed me some Chinese herbs to "help" things along. She feels that it will balance my reproductive system and "prep" it for a new cycle, if I don't get pregnant first.

Seriously......the only thing that this has helped, at least so far, is in activating my colon. OMG....the GAS! And the POOP! And the GAS.....ugh.

Last month she put me on this 4-phase formula that didn't work. When I got AF last week, she decided, after going through my Chinese diagnosis (Blood Stasis and Kidney Yang deficiency) and Western dx (blocked tubes), I got an herbal mix that is supposed to "Resolve" my lower system. It's in capsule form that I have to take three times daily (three caps a day). Luckily it doesn't taste like ass, so it isn't too bad. Being the dorkus maximus that I am, I looked up the herbs and I figured that nothing in them will make me sprout another leg from my body, so I should be all right. The pamphlet that she gave me with the pills did specifically state that it was good for tubal occlusion and blood stasis, cysts, and endo, so I guess that I've got all bases covered.

Oh, God.....did I mention the GAS?!?! And the SMELL from the GAS!?!?! And the SHEER VOLUME OF SOUND it makes!?!? Urgh...it's like I've got a duck speaking out of my ass. Or a small rhino. Or the entire contents of the Amazon. It's scary how much gas I have. SERIOUSLY. I kid you NOT.

Oh, yeah-I'm also supposed to avoid "cold" foods, and red meat, so I guess that means no ice cream on my filet mignon. Oh, well. Actually, I'm afraid to eat, since everything that goes in my mouth smells like the Plague coming out. I'm afraid to look at the sheets, in case there's scorch marks. Or shart marks (c'mon, you've got to know what a "shart" is!? I'm SO not going there unless I have to!).

Really, though-there's a purpose to this, right? I mean, besides being a stinky thirtysomething who gets a panic attack thinking that there's noxious gas leaking out of her rectum which will kill upon contact?

Although, my butt could be considered a WMD.....or perhaps our new Adminstration can use it to find an alternative to our energy crisis......I could make millions! IVF for everyone! Yay!

Catharsis

So.....it's been exactly a month since I've posted.

It's been a tough month.

First of all, thank you all so much for your kind words. The whole ordeal with Buddy left such a void within me. It hits me at certain times-if I'm snuggled up relaxing on the couch and realizing that there's no kitty to jump into my lap, or in the mornings. Some days are easier than others, but I'm still plodding along.

Sean and I hit a breaking point a few weeks ago with this whole IF bullshit. We've both felt a disconnect in our marriage for a while now, and difficulty communicating with one another, physically, emotionally and literally. We were arguing more and more about stupid things, and the whole sexing thing was......well, another shitty job to get through.

About two weeks ago we got into a HUGE argument-huge enough that I took my car keys and left the house, because I just couldn't deal with it anymore. It was probably one of the few times in my marriage that I seriously considered separation, because there was NO WAY that I could see the two of us staying together without killing one another. After about an hour I came home, and we both laid down the law-something had to change, or our marriage wouldn't survive.

It was a sobering thought. We talked, REALLY talked, for probably the first time since we started doing IF treatments-about the pressure put on ourselves in regards to having children, the disappointments, how hard it is. Until this point, Sean had never really expressed how he felt about what we've gone through, so I just assumed that he was either being naive or didn't really care as much as me, since it wasn't "his problem". I learned that night that he is hurting just as much as I am. He also never really talked about treatments, and how he felt about going ahead with another cycle. He wants to, but not at the expense of our marriage, which I can understand.

I don't think that, until that moment, I ever truly confided in him about what hell going into treatments is for me, and the toll the negative outcomes of our cycling has taken on me emotionally. He did suggest that perhaps we need to speak to a counselor about this, because it is a huge stress on our marriage, and maybe he's right. What I do know is that we can't go on the way we had been and make things work.

It was a catharsis of sorts, for both of us. We needed to get it all out on the table, so that we both know where we stand in all this.

So.....what's the deal?

We will cycle again, probably in the summertime.
I will get into the best shape physically and emotionally to help things along.
We are taking more time for us.
We are trying to come to terms with the fact that perhaps it will be just the two of us.

It's not easy, but we're taking it one day at a time. That's all we can do, right?

Goodbye, Handsome Boy

On Wednesday, we had to make the hardest decision that we've yet to make in our marriage.

We had to let Buddy go.

It was agonizing to make-but realistically, we knew that it was the best choice, that we were being selfish if we didn't go through with it. Since Saturday, he had gone downhill-he was barely eating....all he wanted was water, and would barely drink any. He was also starting to have difficulty going up and down the stairs, and was so lethargic. He urinated on the bed several times (a few times in his sleep) in the middle of the night and didn't bother to clean himself afterward. Waking up at 3:30 on Wednesday morning to a soiled bed, and then trying to clean Buddy's paws with baby shampoo because he can't clean himself was the reality slap for us......we knew that it would only get worse for him from here on in. And, that wasn't fair to him-he deserved better than that from us.

Sean made the appointment for Thursday afternoon, and took him to our vet. Being that I just started my new job, we felt that there wasn't any way that I could take the time. I think that it was also easier for Sean this way-he could focus on Buddy and not on me losing control (which would have happened if I was there). Of course, I feel guilty as hell; as if I had abandoned him when he needed me the most. I was his mommy, and I wasn't there-it's something that I need to come to terms with, eventually. Leaving for work on Thursday knowing that he wouldn't be there when I came home was one of the hardest things I've had to do. I didn't want to let him go-I was trying to memorize how he felt, the texture of his fur, his eyes, his smell.

Sean said that when the vet examined him, he could feel the lumps throughout his abdomen, where the cancer had obviously spread through his colon. He reassured us that we were doing the right thing. He also commended us on how we went over and above what others would have done in the same situation.

Of course we did-he was our baby. We had to try to save his life.

We decided to have him cremated, in the end....I couldn't bear having him put in a communal grave and left alone. He will be with us, where he belongs.

Those who had the experience of being around him knew that he was just about the sweetest, most loving cat. He hated to be held for long amounts of time, but would constantly crawl into your lap and look up at you with his big green eyes. He loved his mousey "Marvin",chewing on the shower curtain liner (even though he knew it drove me crazy), trying to see if he could sneak into the bathroom and drink out of the toilet, and loved lying in your lap. He would wait for you either at the door or would be watching out at the window to see you pull into the driveway. He even loved his sister; and, although she kicked the crap out of him at times, he was the first to go up to her and clean her head with his tongue and lie next to her.

What I remember especially about Buddy is when we found out about our miscarriage, four years ago. There I was, sobbing in bed after the phone call from the RE, and he climbed up into my lap, touched me gently on the face with his paw, and looked up at me. His eyes looked right into my soul, telling me that everything was going to be alright. He had that way about him-he could actually communicate with you through his eyes. It was one of the things that we realized was missing in the past few days-that ability to "talk" to you with his eyes. At the end, there was a blankness there that was absolutely heartbreaking. We knew then that we had to do the best thing for him, even though it was the worst thing for us. He was at least with someone who loved him, in the end. He wasn't totally alone.

Goodbye, my handsome boy. You've left a void in my heart that nothing can replace right now. You were my baby-perhaps the only baby I'll ever live to have. I hope you can forgive us for trying to do the right thing, and that you're in Heaven, knowing no pain, and feeling free and happy.

These words written here will never begin to express how much I will always miss you, and how much you've affected my life. Thank you for loving us unconditionally, for the gift of your companionship. We love you and will never, ever forget you.

Hello? Is it Me You're Looking For?

Anyone still out there? *knocking on monitor screen*

I'm still around, really. I've inadvertently taken a little "blogcation", although it wasn't my original intention. There's been so much going on here, and lots of changes have happened, and, really, since I'm not cycling at the moment I felt like all my posts had that "woe is me, I'm a bitter infertile bitch wah wah wah" type of repetition thing starting to happen, and seriously.....who wants to read that shit over and over again?

It was even starting to annoy me. So, there we go.

A basic update: We found out the end of October that the kitty chemo didn't work, so they offered the option of an oral chemo protocol. It had less of a chance of working and really didn't have a great life expetancy, so we had to make the decision to stop Buddy's treatments. They sent us home with prenisolone, gave us about a month. Buddy is still with us, but we've noticed the past week that he's started to noticeably slow down. He's also started things like going outside the litter box (the best was coming home on Thursday to find that he peed on our brand new comforter set, and he's pooped on the floor). So I really think that it's going to be sooner rather than later, which totally blows ass, but really, he's lasted two months longer than the doctors said he would, so at least we've had extra time with him. It still blows large monkey balls, though.

I also started a new teaching job, mid-year, in a MUCH better district (teaching middle school music AND drama-woot). I started this past Monday, LOVE IT, and am exhausted with trying to get organized and used to the new routine, which is totally different than elementary school music. Everyone is really nice and have been so welcoming, which is foreign to me, given that I came from a school where almost nobody talked to me my first year there. Let's just say that I had really no hesitation when the job was offered to me....

As for where I'm at with cycling.....who the hell knows. Sean seems to be under the delusion that I'll get pregnant on my own. However, since we all know that I am NOT the Blessed Mother, I have a sneaking suspicion that it won't work. I'm still doing acupuncture weekly and will start herbs, just for shits and giggles. Since I've changed jobs and health insurance carriers, I'm not sure how this will work, so I'm going to be totally optimistic and say that perhaps we'll cycle in the summer, if I can convince Sean that we won't get busted by the insurance company. Watch what happens, though-because I've just started a new job and I'm no longer tenured, I'll be one of "those people" and get knocked up on my own, after downing two bottles of vino, a joint and some processed food, and after only ONE NIGHT of the sexing, post-ovulation. Why? Because that's just my damn luck, that's why.

Ah, just the delusion of that makes me giggle.

So, my New Year's resolution is to blog more, because if I don't, I've found that I'm a total bitch to everyone around me. This little blog has kept me sane; or, at least as sane as I can be. To that end, I'm now finishing my post on our brandy-new iMac, which is bitchin'! We picked it up yesterday from the lovely Fed Ex people, and it was idiot-proof to set up, which is partly the reason why we got it.....so Sean doesn't end up downloading mega-viruses and deleting half the hard drive, which is what he did to the PC we had ("but, babe....I thought that you were SUPPOSED to click on the flashing window!"). I totally love this thing, and if I weren't already married I'd take out a Domestic Partnership license for this mofo. Because, I'm weird like that.

Seriously though.....let the snarkiness begin

Raining and Pouring

I'm really starting to think that either I'm cursed, or the universe is laughing hysterically at the fucked-up-ness which has been my life as of late.

But, I'm not laughing. Really.

We things were starting to settle down-got my repeat mammo (nothing suspicious, and I get to go back in 6 months for an update-yay!), I actually have a prospect of a new job in a great, blue-ribbon district (although I'd be adding a commute, I'd be a fool not to take the job if it's offered to me), I'm doing another show (Beauty and the Beast), we're gearing up for another cycle, probably within the next few months. We thought that finally things were stabilizing.

But something wasn't right. And it wasn't with me, or with Sean, but with Buddy.

We noticed, after we returned home from vacation in July, that he was going through his pee-antics again. We actually had to rip out the carpet in the house because it was just out of control (which really wasn't a bad thing, now that I'm looking at the finished floor), but we also noticed that he was vomiting more frequently. He also looked as if he'd lost a bit of weight, so off we went to our regular vet, where it turned out that he actually lost two pounds. He did a slew of bloodwork, found nothing, so we thought perhaps he had some bug. But, to me, something wasn't right.

About three weeks ago, Buddy started having diarrhea-at first it was the typical kind, but then it quickly became watery and bloody. He was up and down constantly to the litter box, and looked even skinnier, so we went to the emergency clinic. They diagnosed him with colitis, gave us some antibiotics and told us to follow up with our vet. Our vet x-rayed him and found nothing, but he wasn't getting better, so he referred us here for additional testing. At this point, Buddy was listless and not eating, drinking water but just going from the litterbox to the bed, and whimpering, so two days after our vet visit we went to the animal hospital as an emergency. We were there for five hours (it turned out that he lost another two pounds-not good), but the staff was awesome. They did tons of tests on him (and had to keep him overnight) and found, though ultrasound, enlarged lymph nodes in his colon, which they took samples of and tested them.

And found out that he has lymphoma. Our options were: meet with an oncologist, take him home, where he'd pass on, or euthanasia. So, we met with the oncologist, but we had the feeling that we were going to hear that we should put him down.

Needless to say, we were both a mess. Couldn't eat, didn't sleep, cried constantly. He's our baby-we got him three months after we were married, so he's our first, and so sweet. We weren't sure that we could make the decision to euthanize him, but we didn't want him to suffer.

The oncologist we met with was wonderful. She examined Buddy (who put on a little show for her, flirting and being cute....the most active he'd been in two weeks), and recommended a 25 week course of chemotherapy for him. Although lymphoma insn't "curable" like other cancers are, it seems to be the easiest type of cancer to treat in cats, and they respond pretty well to the therapy. The doc gave us a 50-75% remission rate, and said that she felt that if he responded to treatment we could have up to another two years with him. She said that we don't have to make a decision that day, and she'd send us home with some prednisone, but we had to make a decision within a week of starting the pills. She left us alone, and we talked about it. We had to give him a chance, especially since he seemed more alert that day than he'd been in weeks.

Ultimately, we weren't ready to let him go. Perhaps that's selfish, but there it is. We had to give him the chance to fight it, to live. So, we started the chemo that day.

The doctor recommended four weeks of treatment to start, and an ultrasound on the 5th week, which will check the lymph nodes in the colon. If the nodes are shrinking, then the treatment is working and he's going into remission. If not.....well, then we have to discuss this and make decisions.

We're already seeing a difference in him. Luckily, cats seem to tolerate chemo much better than humans-they don't lose their hair (most often, just their whiskers, which grow back after chemo is done), or suffer from sores. We've noticed that he's a little tired and out of it after a treatment (all injectible, btw-the last week is an IV infusion, but he's usually done within 30 minutes), and not as hungry, but he's doing really well. He's back to his old tricks, and his appetite has rebounded (helped by the prednisone and an appetite stimulant) to where he's eating a 3oz can within 24 hours. The only problem we've seen is that, although the diarrhea has stopped, he seems constipated (poor guy), so I called the hospital and they recommended adding pumpkin to his food to help things along. When we went for his treatment yesterday we mentioned it to the doc. He examined Buddy and let us know that his intestines seem okay, what's in there is soft and nothing is blocked. He said that the straining he's doing is due to the lymph node enlargment, but to continue the pumpkin until he starts to go normally. He let us know that because he basically didn't eat for two weeks it's more than likely that he's absorbing most of the food and not producing enough waste for him to go yet, but he will.

And how are we? I feel better making the decision to go through with it (although people I know have told me that we're crazy to do this)-it's not as outrageously expensive as we thought (less than $100 a treatment), and if we have to give up going out to dinner and spending money on fripperies for a while, it's worth it to have this cute kitty, who is curled up next to me as I type, around for a few more years. It's a committment on our part, with giving him meds at home (which is a joy, let me tell you) and taking him to appointments every week, but I look at it this way. If people make a committment to have an animal share their home and become part of their family, then you have to follow through with that responsibility-whether it's cleaning up poop or vomit, or take care of a sick animal. You can't have all the good and none of the bad. That's not to say that people who make the decision to put their animals down are not good people-everyone's decision to do that is a personal one, and I can't judge someone for that. We made the best decision for us right now, and we're hoping for the best.

It was also interesting to note that he started treatment the day of the feast of St. Francis of Assisi, who is the patron saint of animals. Hopefully that's a sign that we made the right choice, and that he will go into remission.

Remember

In all of my various postings, I've never written about September 11th.

I think that, for a lot of people who lived near the sites of the terrorist attacks, it isn't easy to talk about. It's hard to explain to someone who lived hundreds of miles away what it felt like, the chaos, the fear. And, to be honest, in some ways I also don't have that direct experience, compared to many who lived in Lower Manhattan (like Shelli, or my uncle and his friends), or some friends of mine who were actually in the Towers at the time of the attacks, and managed to escape-they had a first-hand experience that I never, ever want to have to go through.

I had just started teaching (I was in my second week of school), trying to get acclimated with the whole school routine for the first time. Sean, who was celebrating his 30th birthday that day, had started a freelance gig working at NYC Fashion Week, and had already left for Manhattan to get to a call on time. We had made plans for dinner that night, and went our seperate ways.

It was in the morning, I was on my prep time, and I was sitting at my desk when the principal came in and asked to see me outside in the hallway. She then told me and the art teacher that two planes had crashed into the WTC, and into the Pentagon, that it was a terrorist attack, and that we needed to go into a lockdown situation. I actually didn't believe her at first; in fact, I thought that it was a drill. Then I suddenly realized that Sean was in Manhattan, and told my principal that he was there. She immediately said to me, "Go home....now." I remember going upstairs to the Teacher's Lounge and seeing a television on, with a group of people huddled around it; this is how I saw the first tower fall-through a grainy transmission on an old TV set. Then the phone calls started-from my parents, my brother-in-law, my mother-in-law...."Have you heard? Where's Sean? Has he called yet?" Of course, I had NO IDEA. And I was started to panic.

We were three weeks from celebrating our first wedding anniversary.

Since the cell phone reception was sketchy due to overloaded lines and connection problems, it was difficult getting through to anyone in the Tri-State area. My uncle lived (and still does) about 12 blocks from the area, my aunt worked in the Chrysler Building, I had friends who worked in both Towers........and we had no clue if they were were okay, or if there were going to be more attacks in Manhattan.

I went home, and turned on the news. I saw the second tower fall. And, I waited.

The phone rings. Different voices, different people calling. Have you heard? Can you believe it? Do you know if they're okay?

I have no answers for anyone. I can't stop watching the images on the screen; the dust clouds, the destruction, the fear in people's faces. I can't move from the couch.

It's completely silent outside. No cars driving down the street. No kids playing outside.

No sounds of planes in the sky, which is the norm here, being that we live less than 10 miles from Newark Airport. And that unnerved me most of all, that day, and in the days afterward-lying in bed and not hearing that drone of airplanes overhead. Of hearing nothing and wondering if more was coming.

I remember, distinctly, the sound of helicopters overhead. I ran outside and stood on my front steps, along with my neighbors, to see military helicopters swooping overhead, rushing to guard the refineries that are a few miles away......refineries that supply gasoline to the airport. And, I remember seeing the fear in people's faces, the fear that I'm sure was mirrored in my own face.

The phone rings again. It's 3pm. It's Sean, finally; calling from a payphone in a Midtown bar. He's okay, thank God. He's not sure if he can get home, since there's no public transportation allowed in or out of Manhattan. The company he's working for are planning to put them up in hotels, but he's going to try to get out if they open the trains up.

I don't want to stay in the house alone. What if there's more coming? But, what can I do? I have no choice.

And so....I wait.

Hours pass. The television is still on. More phone calls-uncle is okay, aunt is home and okay. So and so got out of the Towers; another friend, luckily, didn't have to go to the complex that day because her meeting was rescheduled at the last minute.

I can't eat or sleep. My stomach is in knots. Will we have to go to work tomorrow? Yes-the district decided that schools should remain open, to give the kids a sense of normalcy. Yeah, right. Nothing will ever be normal again.

Finally the door opens. He's home-scared, dirty, and sweaty after a three hour wait at Penn Station. He managed to get the first train out of Manhattan. We hug. We cry. We give thanks that he's home and okay.

That's what I remember. Like I said, compared to many who witnessed the horror first-hand, it's fluff and trite. But still, it's something that I'll never, ever, forget.

May we always remember.

Squash and Repeat

Well, I guess I spoke too soon...

I got a letter in the mail about my boob-squashing results. Apparently, they found something "inconclusive" about my right breast, and I now need to go for a repeat mammo and ultrasound.

Yeah. You've read that right. Did I freak out? Slightly, considering that my grandmother had both breast and ovarian cancers (which she eventually passed away from, at age 61). I called the gyno's office and spoke to them about what the report said, and they told me that I shouldn't worry too much (yeah....riiight), because repeat mammograms happen A LOT when you get your baseline. It also seems that I have "dense breast tissue" (shit, I could've told them that one-my cans are huge and always have been, even when I was a skinny 110 lbs in college), which makes "inconclusive" results more common. Luckily, I'm pretty fanatical about doing self-exams, so I know that I haven't felt a lump anywhere. But, that letter was like a kick in the gut.

Of course, the first thing I thought of was the shitload of fertility meds I've taken over the years. The RE's all have said that there's no correlation between taking IVF meds and breast cancer; but, let's be honest here-there's no way that they definitely know one way or the other. Did I open myself to a risk that I shouldn't have? Perhaps. And, the sad thing is, I was getting this mammo not only for my regular gyno, but also for Dr. Pipsqueak as part of my IVF checklist for another cycle. Now there's a possibility (a small one, but one nonetheless) that I might never do this cycle.

So, I have make my appointment to go back next week, once I get my period (because there is NO WAY I'll go near that thing with sore PMS boobies). Of course, there is that slight possibility that I won't get my period, but.....well, we won't hold our breath on that one.

There's the story......not the funny one I started writing (which is still in my drafts). Once the dust settles, and I find this shit funny and not scary, I'll post it.

Until then, make sure that you don't neglect your tits, girls. There's my public service announcement of the day.

No Guarantees

I'm a bit sad today, since this weekend marks the end of the summer, and the end of my summer vacation. Back to the grind, starting on Tuesday (with the kids coming in on Wednesday).

While I'm usually more than ready at this point to go back to work, I'm finding that this year, for the first time, I've felt that the time off was too short, and I don't feel at ALL ready to start. I half-heartily went to my schools, set up my spaces, but it was a struggle. I don't want to go back and begin all the mess and politics and bullshit. But, I have to.

I also, stupidly, think every June that perhaps, just perhaps, I'll be pregnant by the time school starts in September. And, of course it doesn't happen, so I go back for faculty meetings with a flat belly and watch the other teachers congratulating someone else on their pregnancy or welcoming someone back from maternity leave. And then I feel like shit because I'm jealous and sad and then I feel even worse because the pg/new moms don't deserve me giving them the stink-eye. And then the vicious circle keeps going around and around....

I think that also, the beginning of every school year also brings to light the fact that I'm going to be a year older; and, when going through infertility, every year that you're not pregnant and every year that you're getting closer and closer to the dreaded 40 is another year further away from the dream of your own child. Now, I do realize that many women my age (and older) have successful pregnancies and births, but who knows if I'll be one of them. There's no guarantee. Sadly, infertility teaches us that nothing in our reproductive life is a "given"-all those assumptions of "fall in love, get married, have babies" just doesn't happen in our case.....at least, not easily. And, for some of us, it doesn't happen at all. And it scares the shit out of me that I might be that person-the one who never has that baby.

Of course, the fact that we're trying to get our ducks in a row for possibly another cycle doesn't help the floundering feelings that I'm having right now. Is this the right thing to do? Should we, or should we throw in the towel altogether? In a stupid, almost naive way, I'm not ready to give up yet. I always have the glimmer of that old crusty bitch Hope in the back of my head saying, "Weeeelllll, perhaps if you do just one more cycle....". But, am I torturing myself, or should I trust that voice? Is it intuition, or just delusion speaking?

And, the worst thing of this whole thing is that there are no answers. There's nobody that can definitively tell you yes, or no. I hate that the most about infertility-it's so indecisive, so ambiguous. I like answers, I like dealing with the concrete, not the abstract, which is odd given I make my living in the performing arts. However, infertility's not like researching a character for a play or delving into a solo in a major oratorio. It has a life of its own, very similar to a little child-unpredictable, and unable to understand things that are too complex.

So, what to do? Right now, it's the waiting game. We think that we will probably cycle again, but we need to be prepared; or, at least as prepared as we can considering the situation. Will it suck? Totally. Am I ready? Well, as ready as I can be. We just have to dive in again, instead of just sticking in a toe, then pulling back.

And, that's that.


Our next installment will be all about that lovely mid-thirties rite of passage that we women ALL look forward to......Our First Mammogram. Believe me, it's full of insanity that only I could have the joy to experience. Seriously.

Infertilivacay

Yeah, yeah, I know that I did say that I would blog more. I even make up posts in my head while driving, putting together dinner, during my acupuncture appointments. But, somehow, they never make the connection from my overcrowded brain to the keyboard. And, it's been bothering me as to why. Is it because I've got writer's block? Or does that signal the beginning of the end of this blog? Perhaps I'm all blogged out?

Nah. I've figured it out-it's because I'm a lazy bitch, that's why. I've taken a vacation from my infertility; or, at least, as much of a vacation as one can take away from a disease, I suppose.

I realized that this is the first year since we've begun riding the ART roller coaster that we haven't cycled in the summer in one way or another-either a fresh or frozen cycle. This is the first summer I haven't either been sticking needles in my body or have had to stick things in my girly bits in 40 months. That's over three years, people. Wow. It's really mind-blowing when you think about it.

Quite frankly, I've enjoyed my time away from the RE and the loss of privacy of my nether regions. I did "cheat" once, however,to update some bloodwork and do an OGTT (oral glucose tolerance test) to see what the deal is about those "PCOS ovaries" the RE found (no results as of yet, but we're also dealing with that stupid-ass IVF Coordinator); but, otherwise, it's been nice not being chained to the phone, my injection kit, or having to reschedule plans around an operating theater or an ultrasound wand. I like not having a sharps container next to the coffee maker, or my dining room table becoming a back-door pharmacy, full of fertility paraphernelia. I especially like that I can enjoy a cup of coffee ("half-caff", of course) in the morning without worrying that it will affect my egg quality. I can make love with my husband and not feel uncomfortable due to swollen ovaries (although we stupidly are still having Baby Making Sex), or not be able to at all because we're scared shitless of doing anything wrong during the 2WW.

I've especially enjoyed not having to hear the post-cycle BFN phone call, and subsequent follow-up appointment. That's been my favorite......but don't tell anyone.

However, all good things must come to an end, and we're contemplating going through with IVF#5. It's a lot like being a kid (or teacher!) during summer vacation-even though it's great not having to be in school, September is sneaking up and tapping us on the shoulder, reminding us that we will soon be back to the routine. We've had some interesting developments in our household as to exactly how we'll proceed with it (it's a little bit of a touchy ethical-type of subject to write here, so if you're REALLY interested as to the dilemma, email me and I'll explain it in detail-perhaps one of you out there might give me a different perspective, and I'll certainly welcome that). I've missed blogging, and I feel badly that I've not been commenting (although I have been catching up on reading posts), so forgive me. I will try my hardest to do better (that is, if anyone's still out there in the blogosphere reading this).

The only things that sucks about my Infertilivacay is that I don't have any outward physical signs of my time away from IF-no "tan lines", sand in my hair, that cool "beachy" smell your towel gets from the mix of salt air and sunscreen, with exception of the 15lbs or so that I've lost. Nope, the signs are all on the inside-I'm not stressed out, not worried, no headaches, no marital tension, no depression and anxiety. I've still been doing weekly acu appointments, and I can count on one hand the amount of headaches I've had (and the ones I've had are nowhere nearly as bad as they were). I'm not feeling the pressure to succeed that I once felt. Sure, I want a baby, and I want the whole she-bang-pregnancy, birth and all of it. But, I'm not beating myself up over it as much anymore. I'm not feeling the bitterness at seeing a newborn, and wondering if this will happen for me. I'm not as angry as I was at God, the fates, or whatever else is out there.

I think that I've come to that elusive place called "acceptance". It's not that we're giving up TTC, not by a long shot. But, I have decided that I refuse to let it rule over me and define what my life should be. I can't change the past, and I can't predict the future (oh, but I do wish I could, though-at least, in this case!), but I CAN control my present. And, I'm tired of letting infertility "tell" me that I can't meet with friends, go on vacation, or that I have to work a second job I wasn't happy in simply because of the "possibility" of a pregnancy and birth of a child. I've lived that way for over three years, and I've cheated myself out of so many experiences and opportunities. But, no more.

I've found out that you can take a break, and still be okay. Does this mean that perhaps I'll be okay if we decide to be child-free? I'm not quite sure. But, I do feel that, somehow, whatever ends up happening, it will all be okay.

The Great Church Job Firing

Well, now that we've thoroughly documented the M drama, let's move on to #2, shall we?

Yep, the Great Church Job Drama.

Well, as I've previously posted, there was a BIG upheaval at church last year. Our pastor (who was there when I was hired 11 years ago) received a job promotion-that of Vicar-General of the Archdiocese (for those of you who aren't Catholic, a VG is like the second in command to the Archbishop in whatever diocese you're in-read more about it here if you're interested) back in February of last year, and his replacement in our parish just happened to be the former Vicar-General. It became apparent that this guy was a total tool job-he rushed through the Mass, started talking more about money than faith, was less personable, and sent out a "survey" to the parishioners to see what needed to be changed. Now, the survey came back with the music ministry having a 86% approval rating from the parish, and, of course, there were a few negative comments listed (as there always will be in situations like these). Monsignor decided to listen to these negative comments and began instituting changes to the music ministry. He wanted the service quicker, music "simplified" (ie. more cheesy hymns and more "modern" things performed), and wanted the music director (my friend A) to "streamline" the program. Well, A is not a "streamline" kind of guy. He doesn't feel that the Mass has to be 45 minutes or less, that music is an integral part of the worship, used to enhance and bring home the message that the presider is trying to send to the congregation. He used to plan the music a year in advance, using the lectionary and making sure that the music corresponded to the readings (something not a lot of directors do, trust me), or with whatever Sunday was being celebrated. We used to get SO many responses from parishoners about how beautiful the music was, how it helped them to pray, that it gave them the courage to sing from the pews-hell, we even had a Jewish woman who would come to the choir mass every Sunday just to hear the music.

Well, A could only take so much, and back in October he gave his notice, with his last day being the week before Thanksgiving. He could see the writing on the wall, and he knew that if he stayed he probably wouldn't have his contract renewed in June. Some people left with him, but most of us stayed, to try to make a go of it. The assistant was named as Interim director, but it quickly became fairly obvious that this guy was in way over his head. He's also a "yes" man, so whatever Monsignor wanted, he started to get-starting with the cheesy hymns at Communion, and rushing through stuff. People stayed through Christmas, then started dropping off (Sean and G among them). We quickly went from almost 50 members to around 20.

Now, A is immensly talented-as both a musician and a conductor-and, realistically we knew that it would be hard FOR ANYONE to fill those shoes. But, you'd think that the Interim, who A hired (and who he worked with at the Archdiocese Cathedral), and who'd been with us for 8 years, would have AT LEAST payed attention, and would be competent. The only competency I saw was in his big organ pieces (pre-and postlude), but with anthems and hymns it sounded like he was throwing in an elbow on the keyboard. He also didn't rehearse on his own with the organ enough, because at our weekly rehearsals he would spend almost an hour going over the Sunday music, not for the choir's benefit, but so that he could play it on the organ (which he invariably couldn't and would then switch to the piano for the rest of the rehearsal). I can only describe his conducting skills as one who is slapping away a cloud of flies-there was no clear downbeat (or upbeat, for that matter), no cutoffs, no entrances. In other words, it was starting to look (and sound) like a hot, steaming pile of mess.

But, I didn't leave-I wanted to give him a fair chance-and, let's face it, A didn't have a job and I didn't want to part with the money. However, I wasn't sure how long musically whoring myself would last, because I felt myself getting sloppy and developing bad habits......and as a teacher, those things just wouldn't be acceptable. The Interim also covered up his inadequecy by lying about things (for example, if I questioned where the choir should cut off on a sound, he would start babbling about the "English" vs. "American" cutoff.......huh? WTF???). Of course, I would constantly question him, because he would say one thing, then do something totally different. And succeeded in confusing everyone, and pissing them off.

Now, why didn't anyone speak up (besides me), you wonder? Well, because, to be honest, Catholics aren't usually the type to speak out. We're usually guided by the parish and by the priests-it's not like the Episcopal or Lutheran faiths were there's a council made up of congregants and clergy. Even though a Catholic parish is supposed to be about the people, unfortunately there's a "sheep mentality"-just following the herd. And, this church wasn't about that-it wasn't a Mass Factory, where you got in, put your money in the bin, got Communion, and got out. But, it was slowly becoming that.

Well, at the end of the year it all came to a head. We were asked to sing a Mass celebrating a Cardinal's (who was the former Archbishop before he was elevated) 50th anniversary of his ordination, which was to be held at our parish. We had a month to rehearse, but of course the Interim didn't really prepare and subsequently, we were rushing at the last minute. The Interim, unbeknownst to the choir (with the exception of a select few-the other section leaders and others who kiss his butt), hired ringers-professional musicians-to sing the Mass. And, we didn't know until an hour before the Mass, when they all showed up for the warm-up and rehearsal.

People were pissed-I was pissed! Two of these ringers were in my section, and I was the section leader, and I had NO IDEA! People were coming up to me and questioning me, and I had nothing to say to them. So, after the Mass (which I cantored, btw), I spoke to the Interim privately and told him that people were upset over this (me included). I told him that I had no problem with ringers-I've even done it myself, but if he needed extra singers, then they should've come to a few rehearsals beforehand, not the day of. I told him that the choir volunteer their time every week for two hour rehearsals, and that it sent them the message that he didn't trust them or their abilities, and it just causes bad feelings, and we couldn't afford to lose people.

I guess he didn't like what I said, because two weeks later (a week after he was named full-time director) I was fired by Monsignor (with the director looking on), after singing two masses. After being there 11 years, being married there. Just like that.

Well, as you might guess, I didn't go quietly. I told both of them off in the sacristy-I called Monsignor ignorant and told him he was running the parish into the ground, and I called the director incompetent and sneaky. Then, I proceeded to send an email to the entire music ministry (two choirs) and told them EXACTLY what happened. There was NO WAY that these people were going to make it look like I walked away, or that it was my fault. I was going to call them out on the whole thing, and let them have to explain themselves.

Here's the email I sent (and I'm leaving in the names of the guilty to expose them for who they are):

Hello all:

This is just a note to let you all know that today, after the 12:30 Mass, unbeknownst to me, was my last day as OLS as cantor/section leader, after an 11 year tenure.

In other words, I've been fired (or, as I was told "we'd like today to be your last day"). Why, you ask? Well, in a nutshell, I was told by Msgr Emery (NOT Glenn, surprisingly, since he WAS my superior, but I suppose one must let someone else do one's dirty work) that I wasn't part of what the parish needs in order to make "positive" changes to the music ministry. When I pressed as to EXACTLY why, since I felt that in my time there I have gone above and beyond what was in my job description as a section leader and cantor, I was told that it was because I'm not a "team player", not because of my work ethic. In plain English, because I refused to let our "esteemed" new director get away with incompetence, I was asked to leave. (I was also told that, given my non-salaried status, the parish needs no cause to let people go, so BEWARE anyone who gets paid-you might be next!!)

Now, I'm going to relay EXACTLY what I said to both of them. I told them that, although according to the parish survey (which was unfair to begin with) there was an 80+% approval rating for Allen and the music ministry, he decided to listen to a minority of parishioners who wanted changes. Although, as pastor he has the right (although an uneducated "right", but I digress) to make whatever changes he felt necessary, the PASTOR is representive of the PEOPLE of his parish, and ideally if the parish was happy, it seemed to be a case of "if it isn't broken, why fix it". I also stated that, in the many times that Sean has been out sitting in the congregation since he left the choir, almost NOBODY sings. Of course, Msgr disagreed, so I asked him if HE was sitting out there every week to hear it (of course not!!)-he said, of course, that he is going by the "feedback" of whoever has his ear (probably the same "people" that wrote negative comments on the survey....although now I'm beginning to wonder if there are any actual "people" to begin with and it's simply a case of autocracy at work). I also told him that by making changes for the sake of change has UNDONE 11 YEARS of work that both Msgr. Doran and Allen Artz worked so very hard to achieve. Of course I was told that it was "my opinion", but many of you have expressed the same concerns. Look at the travesty of the Carol Sing dress rehearsal, when this man had THE NERVE to try to give us a "pep talk" that only resulted in insulting people and alienating the Canticum Novum singers. Haven't you noticed the slow slipping in of the Gather Hymns at Communion every Sunday? Remember him saying to the choirs back in December that these changes were going to happen "only at the 9:30 Mass" (which was ludicrous to begin with)-but that THE 11 AM CHOIR MASS WOULD NOT BE AFFECTED by the changes. That didn't last, did it? The writing was on the wall well before Allen's resignation-we, in trying to be charitable and to give someone the benefit of the doubt, let this happen to the parish. And, this is coming from a man who, according to Msgr. Doran, "chose" OLS because of the music and liturgy? Why, so he can rip it all apart? He very clearly cares NOTHING about the music OR the liturgy.

As for Glenn (who was actually "hired" much earlier than he wants you to believe, and I know that for a FACT since he told someone that directly back after Christmas-another case of subterfuge, perhaps?): I told him that if I was being fired simply because I challenged him, then it was extremely unfair. Since Glenn has taken over as Interim, there has only been communication between him and select section leaders and cantors, and I was apparently not "privileged" to be amongst them. Let's take June 1st travesty as an example. How many people knew ahead of time that there were "ringers" coming in to sing the Cardinal's Mass? Not many, I'm sure. I can say that I, as the soprano section leader, WAS NEVER INFORMED. Why should I? There were only two of them in my section! I was as surprised and upset as others (I know that a few of you spoke to me about it), and I spoke to Glenn about it after the Mass, when I told him that, although I had no problem with ringers, I DID have a problem bringing them in AN HOUR before the Mass, when there are people who VOLUNTARILY give up their time every week to come to rehearsal. Why not have the ringers come to the last rehearsals? I felt, (and yes, it's MY opinion, however since other people voiced it I guess I'm not the crazy one) that bringing in ringers is demoralizing and insulting to people who, again, VOLUNTEER THEIR TIME EVERY THURSDAY NIGHT to sit through rehearsals. Quite frankly, it's not a good way to build morale in a group that is in desperate need of it, considering everything that's happened this year. I was told that it was okay because "they're musicians". I guess that was my final nail in the coffin-because I, not only as an employee, but AS A FELLOW PARISHIONER, dared to question, and dared to voice, yet again, what others were saying. I also told Glenn that even when Allen was director there were times that I didn't agree with things, yet EVEN THEN I voiced what I felt. And, although what I said didn't necessarily influence his decisions, Allen never shot me down or treated me as if what I said was inconsequential or invalid, which Glenn did not only to me, but to others (unless they were the select few). If that is a by-product of his insecurity as a musician, then so be it. I also said that he does not know how to effectively communicate (which is obvious since I was kept in the dark about things), assumes that OLS choir is a paid group in that he blows through music and refuses to teach parts (since there are quite a few non-readers in the choir) and assumes that choir members can just go home and plunk parts out on the piano. THAT is why people have left, and why people will continue to leave-because it's clearly a step back. And, once you've had the best, it's awfully hard to go back.

Basically, what I have said has fallen onto deaf ears, since I was told that it was my opinion. I was also told by Glenn that he, as a paid singer for 8 years didn't agree with Allen at times, but didn't say anything as it wasn't his place. I guess that's because he was too busy talking during rehearsals to notice (which is probably why his music was never marked either when we asked questions). But Glenn, is that true of JUST ME, or do you allow the other section leaders to have input? Or, do you take into consideration only CERTAIN people's input (and we can list them here, for we ALL know who those people are)? Not very fair of you, is it?

We have all known since Emery's tenure that there was a possibility of this happening-a "dumbing down" of the music program at Sorrows. Now, it's a reality. Allen, as an accomplished musician, teacher and director could ONLY TAKE SO MUCH of the watering down of the music, so he left (regardless of whether or not you agree with how it was done, many of you DON'T KNOW what went on behind the scenes to lead up to his resignation, so it wasn't a decision that was made spontaneously). And now, with Glenn being hired full-time, Emery has exactly what he wants-a yes-man who will water it down to not only make the boss happy but to make it easier for himself (which we've also seen slowly happening-pulling out music that we could do in our sleep for totally new music nobody's seen before that we're supposed to "wing"). A music director who cannot effectively get what he wants from his choir, because he has NO IDEA how to bring it out in them-he won't (or can't) teach parts, his conducting skills are subpar, his playing (with the exception of his prelude and postlude) is unrehearsed. How many rehearsals did we have to go through a piece over and over again not for OUR benefit, but simply because Glenn couldn't play it due to not rehearsing it enough with the organ? And, how many excuses did we have to hear as to WHY he didn't, or couldn't rehearse it? You know, for someone who is getting paid the salary that Glenn is being paid, it's HIS JOB to know that music, just as it is the paid singers job to have notes learned for a piece once it's been introduced. And, it's obvious that the parish isn't getting their money's worth with Glenn.

How about how he's treated the children's choir? I'm sorry, but as AN EDUCATOR, I would never talk to children as he has done. Yes, they were unruly at times, but a lot of it was due to Glenn and how he spoke down to them, and treated them. Going down from 50+ children to 19 at the last mass they sang with us is proof enough of that, regardless of the stunt he pulled about making those two girls get up and apologize to the Parish Choir. Way to go, Glenn-what a good way to build self-esteem........by embarrassing children.

It saddens me that, after 11 years at Sorrows, it has to come to this. At one time, I really felt as if Sorrows was my "second home" Sean and I were married at OLS, and felt as if we were in a community of people who were caring and compassionate, but that has, sadly, gone off into the horizon. The reason that I'm writing this to you is that I don't want anyone to either hear untruths or come back in September and think that I resigned VOLUNTARILY in any way. I don't want Emery or Glenn to mislead anyone into thinking that it was my decision to leave, since we already saw that Glenn can do that (i.e.. assuming that George resigned and hiring another cantor BEFORE even speaking to George about it). I'm NOT going by my own choice. Of course, I will no longer be calling Sorrows "my" parish. I can't call a place "mine" when they basically chew you up, use you, abuse you, then spit you out. I got a double slap in the face - as an employee, being fired is bad enough, but, as a parishioner, being told that your services are no longer needed is like saying that Sean and I are no longer welcome in the parish. And this is coming from a CHURCH, which is supposed to be a "faithful" and "charitable" place to worship? Then again, there has been no worship in that beautiful building since Msgr. Doran left last February. It's just been a case of "get in, get out, get it done quickly and get the collection in". We've all felt it. Some of you have even said it privately. I was just the one who vocalized it, openly. And I got punished for it.

Whether or not you decide to stay at Sorrows is, of course, your choice. But, know that there will probably be more changes in the horizon, and they more than likely won't be good ones, given Emery's track record. If you can deal with it, and still feel as if you're still worshipping (since isn't that why there is music at Mass? To enhance and supplement worship?), then I give you a lot of credit. I wish you all of the best that life has to offer you, and those of you who want stay in touch with Sean and I, will hopefully do so. But, I can no longer be a parishioner in a place that was once unique and has now become just like every other parish. As much as Emery likes to say that he is celebrating "diversity", what he's doing is conforming to mediocrity by taking away the richness of the music, which allowed me to worship in a way that I hadn't felt in years, and which was also what kept me there for as long as I did. Whether that means that I find another Catholic parish that will fill that need, or make my way to a faith that will be truly "of and for the people" is my own journey to begin.

Please pass this on to anyone of importance that I may have missed in this email.

Thank you,

S

Am I upset? Sure-for a long time, this was my second home. I loved singing there. I loved the sense of community I felt there, not to mention the quality of music we did there (which is NOT the norm in most churches). But, really, it hasn't been the same there for a long time, and it created stress in my life when I didn't need it. It, quite simply, wasn't worth the money. Sure, I can always get another singing job, but I think I'll take a nice loooong break first. As for where to go to church.....well, that's a bit harder to delve into. I think that my expectations of the Catholic Church are too high, but I'm not sure switching faiths is the answer either. I guess I'll have to slowly get my feet wet and go to other parishes and see what calls to me.