Thursday, October 17, 2019
Yesterday I attended an event for one of the business-women’s networking groups I belong to. I joined this group last year, right before I found out I have cancer. I attended this group’s events while I was treating my cancer more often than the other two groups I frequent; however, I was not really in the “connecting” mood and did not mingle much with the women I did not already know.
Because I have not “connected” with group, I did not feel the need to kill the mood (like I did last week) by announcing my terminal diagnosis to the entire group. I did tell one woman that I have been planning to connect with for a couple months, and the managing director, who was already a friend of mine from a previous group.
I am still internally wrestling with my plans for future business networking. Until yesterday, I had decided I would continue to go to the group I have been a member of for 10+ years and discontinue the other two groups. I went to the event yesterday with the primary purpose of telling the managing director it would be my last meeting. Now I am not so sure; I may continue to go to two group’s events.
The managing director, and the other woman I told, both asked how they personally, and the group as a whole could help me. I told them both I am not ready for help right now. I am still healthy and could still live for several years (Although Dr. Doom and Gloom sure did not make many years sound very possible.). I have decided I have at least three years to execute my exceptional exit plan.
The task in my exceptional exit plan most conducive to outside help is attacking my mountains of clutter and I told both women decluttering would be the task for which I will ask for help. I will be dedicating one or two days a week to clearing my physical clutter. I started a few days ago and had one day this week for decluttering. A friend and I spent about three hours sorting and packing some of my 24-year-old daughter’s items since she has bought a house and is moving out. I expect it will take about four weeks to pack my daughter’s stuff and move it to her house so it will probably take me two months.
The next step in my clutter clear-out plan is to get my seven-year-old daughter’s stuff donated, tossed, and moved into her new room. My younger daughter, Mika, has been sharing her big sister’s room for the past year; however, all Mika’s clothes and toys have been living in my lower level great room. I expect it will take me two months to get Mika’s bedroom in order so it will probably take me six months.
Other people’s stuff will likely take me eight months to get straight. That leaves me 28 months to clear out my gear. Right now, 28 months seems like plenty of time; however, life will surely get in the way. The new chemotherapy I start next month may make me too sick to function. One of my two decluttering helpers may need to stop helping me. I may not live three years. I will need (and ask for) help.
I could make decluttering more of priority now, however decluttering is not the only part of my exceptional exit plan. I am almost ready to start recording videos for my family to watch after I pass. I have been waiting to make sure I have a strong grip on my acceptance of my fate. I do not want to be crying once I start talking to my future-aged children. I do not think I can record and not cry yet.
I am going to test my non-crying resolve next weekend. The only time I was even close to tears when I told everyone I had cancer last year was when I told my mother. It took me a couple of minutes to regain control during our phone conversation and I expect it will be much worse when I tell her I have almost reached my expiration date.
‘
My piece of advice to you is to pick the one priority in your life. I know we have more than one important part of our lives; however, I would rather leave my family videos of me talking to them and telling them how proud I am of them than a clutter-free house.
P.S. I know I am still not tear-free because Mika just said to me as I was writing that last sentence, “Mom. Do you know I love you?” Now I have a tightness in my throat and water in my eyes. But I am NOT crying.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.
Yesterday I attended an event for one of the business-women’s networking groups I belong to. I joined this group last year, right before I found out I have cancer. I attended this group’s events while I was treating my cancer more often than the other two groups I frequent; however, I was not really in the “connecting” mood and did not mingle much with the women I did not already know.
Because I have not “connected” with group, I did not feel the need to kill the mood (like I did last week) by announcing my terminal diagnosis to the entire group. I did tell one woman that I have been planning to connect with for a couple months, and the managing director, who was already a friend of mine from a previous group.
I am still internally wrestling with my plans for future business networking. Until yesterday, I had decided I would continue to go to the group I have been a member of for 10+ years and discontinue the other two groups. I went to the event yesterday with the primary purpose of telling the managing director it would be my last meeting. Now I am not so sure; I may continue to go to two group’s events.
The managing director, and the other woman I told, both asked how they personally, and the group as a whole could help me. I told them both I am not ready for help right now. I am still healthy and could still live for several years (Although Dr. Doom and Gloom sure did not make many years sound very possible.). I have decided I have at least three years to execute my exceptional exit plan.
The task in my exceptional exit plan most conducive to outside help is attacking my mountains of clutter and I told both women decluttering would be the task for which I will ask for help. I will be dedicating one or two days a week to clearing my physical clutter. I started a few days ago and had one day this week for decluttering. A friend and I spent about three hours sorting and packing some of my 24-year-old daughter’s items since she has bought a house and is moving out. I expect it will take about four weeks to pack my daughter’s stuff and move it to her house so it will probably take me two months.
The next step in my clutter clear-out plan is to get my seven-year-old daughter’s stuff donated, tossed, and moved into her new room. My younger daughter, Mika, has been sharing her big sister’s room for the past year; however, all Mika’s clothes and toys have been living in my lower level great room. I expect it will take me two months to get Mika’s bedroom in order so it will probably take me six months.
Other people’s stuff will likely take me eight months to get straight. That leaves me 28 months to clear out my gear. Right now, 28 months seems like plenty of time; however, life will surely get in the way. The new chemotherapy I start next month may make me too sick to function. One of my two decluttering helpers may need to stop helping me. I may not live three years. I will need (and ask for) help.
I could make decluttering more of priority now, however decluttering is not the only part of my exceptional exit plan. I am almost ready to start recording videos for my family to watch after I pass. I have been waiting to make sure I have a strong grip on my acceptance of my fate. I do not want to be crying once I start talking to my future-aged children. I do not think I can record and not cry yet.
I am going to test my non-crying resolve next weekend. The only time I was even close to tears when I told everyone I had cancer last year was when I told my mother. It took me a couple of minutes to regain control during our phone conversation and I expect it will be much worse when I tell her I have almost reached my expiration date.
‘
My piece of advice to you is to pick the one priority in your life. I know we have more than one important part of our lives; however, I would rather leave my family videos of me talking to them and telling them how proud I am of them than a clutter-free house.
P.S. I know I am still not tear-free because Mika just said to me as I was writing that last sentence, “Mom. Do you know I love you?” Now I have a tightness in my throat and water in my eyes. But I am NOT crying.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.