Cancer Baby Momma: An Aberration Story

It has absolutely strengthened my family. Our love for each other is right out there in the open now.

I've thought a lot about cancer lately. Besides being a writer and an artist, I'm also a consultant within the pharmaceutical industry. As part of that work, I've recently visited quite a few cancer treatment centers. I've walked past folks sitting in chemo chairs in Washington. In a Florida hospice grief center, I've been shown a small, dark room that lights up with fluorescent messages children have written to the moms and dads they miss. In a center I visited in Illinois, I saw a giant gong. Each time a patient reaches remission, the center invites friends and family for a gong ceremony to signify the courageous battle that was fought and won.

When I was growing up, a cancer diagnosis was thought to be a death sentence. Although the landscape has certainly changed and progressed, the "C" word is still one of our greatest fears, and can very well lead to death. I'm betting that very few of us remain untouched by cancer. Through my work related to breakthrough cancer pain, I've come to appreciate how even those fortunate enough to make it through that fight are struck with a debilitating and life-changing aberration. No matter what the outcome, cancer changes those whom it strikes.

Considering what I've recently learned about living with cancer and the associated treatments, I can't begin to imagine what it might be like to also have a baby growing side-by-side with that potential killer, all encased in the confines of my body. An expanding baby needs care and nourishment while spreading cancer must be eradicated with radiation and poisonous chemicals. How can a healthy baby result? Is it possible?

Sandi, the newest member of the Aberration Nation has lived through this nightmare and can shed light on the mind-blowing combination. Her story makes the aches, pains, and nausea of my pregnancies seem like a fragrant stroll through the Shreveport Rose Center. Sandi is truly a survivor who has courageously embraced her greatest challenges. Like a bouquet of roses, she holds one of the most precious outcomes lovingly in her arms.

You received a cancer diagnosis while pregnant. Can you tell us what happened?

My family and I went through a large move two hours away from our relatives. During this move I was feeling very winded and tired. I had been wheezing a lot and just having an all around difficult time even moving one box. I had been having issues for awhile but during the move it got a lot worse. After getting into the new home, I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. My first thought was, Well, I knew I was feeling very sick ... I was having issues breathing. I got winded walking up just a few stairs or even simply talking. Having conversations wiped me out and caused me to pant. I'd been told constantly that I have thyroid issues, and tried my hardest to believe that was the issue. But I didn't know how I could carry a pregnancy to term considering how sick I felt. So we went back to the doctor. Exactly two weeks after finding out I was pregnant, I was told I had Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

What were your first thoughts when faced with the cancer diagnosis? How did your pregnancy impact your initial reaction and attitude? Did your attitude change in any way throughout the course of your pregnancy?

When the doctor first said the word lymphoma, I was pretty much in shock. I thought to myself that this could not be happening ... because I was pregnant. I couldn't have cancer. I was having such a terrible time simply breathing though that it was honestly hard to sit and think about all the details too much. I just wanted to be able to breathe again without it hurting. I also knew I wanted my baby to be safe. I was questioning whether there was any possible way that my baby and I could get through this together. I honestly became much more concerned for the baby because I figured she would have the hardest time making it through any potential drug treatments or surgeries. I was very confused. I hadn't even heard of this happening before. My attitude changed a lot during my pregnancy because I was doing well. The chemotherapy was working, and all of my doctor's appointments for the baby showed she was growing and progressing normally. I honestly looked towards her birth as a symbol of getting through it all. She was the happy ending, the good result at the end of all the pain.

Pregnancy in itself can bring emotional ups and downs, and of course, physical issues. Was this compounded by your diagnosis, and if so, how did you cope?

Ironically, I think that after going through the initial diagnosis and first two or three chemotherapy treatments, the pregnancy gave me strange comfort. I never felt alone. I always knew she was with me. I was going through something that takes lives all the time while growing a new life inside me. We often think of cancer as something that takes lives. We certainly never think of a new life beginning during it. She gave me hope when I really should have been terrified. Sometimes I was. I certainly broke down a few times but I tried to not let myself be too scared. I knew the fear would eat me alive if I let it. As far as physical issues, I was very tired all the time and very weak as well. Chemotherapy and pregnancy alone both cause these things. Together it was just that much worse. I spent a lot of time in bed and was put on bed rest towards the end of the pregnancy.

How common is this situation?

I've been told that one in 1000 pregnancies has cancer occur at the same time. It's pretty rare. Actually, in a lot of these situations you can delay treatment, but in my case I could not. I had to start in the first trimester which is almost unheard of. I was ten weeks along.

Today we have more options than in the past. What choices were presented to you, and how did you feel about them?

Honestly my choices were slim because I myself was not doing well. The specialist I saw told me I should have a therapeutic abortion because they didn't know what could possibly happen to the baby, and it would be better for me emotionally to not have to deal with a child who had problems. My life was not in danger by keeping the pregnancy at all. I was told I would not last three weeks so I had no choice but to start chemotherapy as soon as possible. I couldn't wait until the second or third trimester as they normally recommend. I didn't have that kind of time, so we started treatments at 10 weeks. I was able to do the radiation after her birth, which was nice. I was supposed to be induced at 37 weeks to give my body time to heal before radiation but she came on her own at 36 weeks.

Did your children understand what was going on in your life? If so, how did this impact the family dynamic?

My older children knew I was very sick at first but didn't know why. They knew I was having a baby and were happy about it but didn't fully understand what was wrong with me. At the suggestion of a counselor at the oncology office, we told them I had cancer. We were told to not fear the "C" word and to just be honest with our children and we agreed. I didn't see my girls much in the beginning because I as so sick. I became very lonely. They were in the same house but I didn't have enough energy to even hug them. It was very difficult.

When faced with life's aberrations, many people who seem to have tons of support can't manage to cope, while some folks with little to no support manage to survive. Did the support of family and friends make the difference for you, or do you believe your own inner resolve ultimately brought you through?

I really believe the support of my husband and children are what got me through. We had just moved away from all of our other family and friends. We were two hours from them, and honestly I didn't see any of them much at all. They were afraid to call me because of my breathing problems. I felt slightly abandoned by them but I understood their fears. However, my husband was by my side day and night caring for me. His job allowed him to stay with me and still get paid, which was so wonderful. My mother-in-law came and helped out during radiation treatments. My children were there to help, and did a lot of growing up during that time. I really think the love and support given to me mostly by my husband helped me through. I tried to voice the what ifs and he wouldn't hear it. I had no choice but to get better. He made it clear. I loved it and I needed to hear it.

How did the the story end and what did you learn from this life-threatening situation? Do you believe that you and your family are stronger now for having had to face such difficult times together?

I had my final chemotherapy at 32 weeks. I did get some preterm contractions with this chemo and the one before it. I spent a night in the hospital and they managed to stop the contractions. At 36 weeks my water broke. I went to the hospital and was Life Flighted to a children's hospital two hours away. I gave birth to a healthy baby girl, 6 lbs. 3 oz and 18 inches long, on November 17th, 2007. She didn't require NICU care ... she was healthy! I was doing okay, too. I had radiation about two weeks after her birth every day for a month and got a clear PET scan on February 8th, 2008. I was declared in remission. My baby girl is now 15 months old, and I just celebrated one year of being cancer free. It has absolutely strengthened my family. Our love for each other is right out there in the open now. I know how very much my husband loves me and I do not take one day or second for granted that I have with my family. My older daughters had to grow up a lot during this time. We all changed and we are all stronger for it I think.

Did staring death in the face change your life? If so, how has it changed?

Honestly I was very close to death, but at the time I just wanted to feel better. I couldn't imagine not being able to breathe anymore or having the pain involved with breathing. I wanted it to stop one way or another. It's not so scary at that moment--you just want the pain to stop. I got very scared later and realized I didn't want to leave my family. Most of all I want to see my daughters grow up and I certainly don't want them to forget me. I try to do things with them and show them how very much I love them because I realize we aren't guaranteed anything. We don't know how much time we'll have so I want to leave a lasting impression in the lives of my children.

There seems to be so much support for Cancer victims this days, which is heart warming. Is there enough? If not, what else can we do?

I do believe there is a lot of support for cancer patients out there and I love it. I think it's wonderful. I think that cancer during pregnancy is not as widely recognized as say just breast cancer alone. I think it's something that women don't have enough information on. Women feel alone and helpless. I want to spread the word that there is hope. You can get well and keep your baby, too. It's possible. That message is not widely known.

NOTE TO ... Glamour Magazine

I’ve read Glamour for over 25 years. Some of those years I had a subscription, and some found me paying big bucks for a grocery store copy. This week, I happened to pick up a copy at the Philadelphia Airport. I admit that I couldn’t resist finding out what your 700 Dos, Don'ts & Deals were. While Newsweek remains my favorite magazine, like many women, I not only want to be educated, I also want glamour. In fact, one of my ongoing fantasies is to write an article for Newsweek as I sit feeling and looking glamorous in my apple green office.

It just so happened that the issue I picked up was your latest celebrating Glamour’s 70 years on the stand. The issue was filled with pats on the back regarding your journalistic and artistic ground breaking feats, many of which brilliantly pushed women forward. For example, Glamour used the first black cover model in 1968 and feminist icon Gloria Steinem hailed as a contributing editor from 1963 to 1970. More recently, Marianne Pearl reported on women working to change the world in her award-winning column, Global Diary.

Congratulations!

Toward the end of the issue was a lengthy piece under your Health & Body category detailing your latest survey of 16,000 women telling their body confidence secrets. You were so sad and shocked to report that your readers, 75% of us, still think we’re too fat. And, darn it, we still don’t seem to grasp the overwhelming stats that men prefer real women to super skinny anorexic types. You were happy to report that the younger set are more comfortable with their bodies then my generation was 25 years ago. Your last big survey on this took place in 1984, the year I graduated from high school. Yes, I wanted to be skinny then, too.

There’s one big issue with the issue highlighted in the issue.

Several pages back, under the Glamour Fashion category, you include two fabulous fashion shoots, The New Happy Clothes and What to Wear this Weekend. The fantasy inspiring pages beautifully display skinny models in red, white and blue garb, and wholesomely sexy farm clothes. Also, under the Glamour Beauty category, you've given us The 10 Best Hair & Makeup Looks. And they're all so pretty! We're shown the looks that are timelessly beautiful modeled by women who look strikingly similar to those I gazed upon as a starving-myself-to-be-beautiful eighteen year old in 1984. Good Lord! I have less chance now than I did then. Thank goodness I had the sense to give up on starving myself years ago. What's a girl to do? Fantasies are supposed to make life fun--kick it up a notch not give you a deflating punch in the gut you're trying to get rid of.

If Glamour is so concerned and saddened that our attitudes haven’t change enough in the last 25 years, why do you continue to reserve your thinnest, youngest looking models for your arty fashions shoots, the one’s reeking of fantasy-feeding images? In this particular issue, you diligently inserted various articles throughout preaching to us “love your body just the way it is,” and praising Beyonce’ and the Hollywood set for pushing well-rounded choices of beauty icons and role models, yet you can’t seem to adjust your own super stylistic fashion shoots to match that heartfelt message of love for us and our imperfect bodies.

Why not put your money where your mouth is, use your power, and show some real ground-breaking balls in your own industry? Take the average size clothes sold in this country (or at least the healthy norm according to our healthcare professionals), find beautiful, photogenic women who can wear them, and take some arty shots of that. I triple-dog dare you to try it for three months. Wait! Are you telling me that your fashion designer buddies don’t make clothes in those sizes, or that you have industry pressure to display these clothes on bones so that they hang just right? Well, if you must show us these super smallish threads, perhaps you could include a disclaimer. It might say:

Caution: The following clothes are specifically created to fit young women between the ages of 13 and 15, those with eating disorders, and those genetically bone-thin (a small percentage of the population). Do not try this at home.

Then in juxtaposition, provide us with fantasy-pushing, glamorous shots of women just like us.

Aberration Nation Newsflash: As long as you keep feeding us this particular fantasy, changes aren’t gonna come.

We know that you’re a business, not a healthcare outfit. Our fantasies fuel sales. But if you truly care and have the guts to do some cutting edge fantasy adjusting, we’ll still buy the magazine. You may even pick up a new reader or two. On top of that, more of us might have time to read if we’re not so darn busy trying to be perfect.
___________________

Aberration Nation Readers, Did I get this right? Let me know what you think?

New on Aberration Nation

Beginning Friday on Aberration Nation, you'll see a new type of blog post pop up at least twice a month.

NOTE TO ...

Among other things, I read tons of magazines and newspapers articles. I'm constantly coming across topics that get my wheels turning. I've been known to email writers, journalists, and editors because I have a tough time keeping my thoughts off paper. See, I don't always have an open ear (or set of eyes) available. In fact, Jon Meacham, the editor of Newsweek (my favorite magazine) may have labeled me as a stalker by now ... hopefully not. Regardless, I'm sure Mr. Meacham will be thrilled that I've found a new outlet.

Now the readers of Aberration Nation will be my listening eyes. I'll let you know, along with the intended audience, what's on my mind. You can feel free to disagree, educate me, rant, add your two cents, or simply agree. Since I'm certainly far from being an expert on every topic I read about, I'm always open minded. Some of these posts will be short and sweet, and some will be more robust. We'll see how it goes. Meanwhile Aberration Stories will continue!

Come back Friday for the first post >>> Note to Glamour Magazine.

Chick Lit vs. Wit Lit: The Road to Literary Revolution (full article)

Last week I had the opportunity to take a 12-hour road trip across Texas with my 66-year-old mother. She talked a lot about the way things used to be when she was growing up in the 1950s. She enjoyed going on about how everyone was so much more polite, well-groomed, and decent. I was surprised to hear that my grandmother required my mom and her siblings to make their beds when they stayed in hotels.

Hotels!

My mother graduated from high school in 1960. Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road was published in 1961. Ironically, I was getting this earful about life in the '50s just as I was finishing Yates' novel. Flying back to Philly from Dallas, I thought about the perfect picture of domestication my mother grew up with, and how she still wishes life could be that way. Truth be told, she wishes I could be that way. (Confession: I rarely make the beds in my own home much less hotels.) I also considered what I'd like to say about Revolutionary Road.

Another detail swirling in my head was the fact that I finally read a
novel officially categorized as Chick Lit just prior to reading Revolutionary Road. It was Sophie Kinsella's The Undomestic Goddess. One word to describe my reaction: disappointed. Of course, lots of folks buy Kinsella's novels, and I admit that her work, along with the rest of successful Chick Lit, has its place on the shelf, and probably on sandy beaches everywhere. But I take the word literature seriously ... maybe too seriously.

Before my first Chick Lit experience, I assumed these books were for hip, intelligent women who love literature. Isn't literature supposed to mean something more than hot embraces, palatial homes, awesome shoes, and perfect endings filled with train station embraces? If not, than I was an official chick at eleven. That was the fateful year I discovered the thrill of the harlequin romance. My love lasted about four months—the amount of time it took me to figure out the formula and lose interest.

Now that I'm a woman who can bring home some sort of bacon, I want what I've decided to call, Wit Lit. And yes, Wit Lit can appeal to men as well because although we’re apparently from different planets, we share good ole' human nature in all its simple and fascinating complexity—the very element Yates tapped into when he wrote Revolutionary Road in 1961. Yates’ novel qualifies as Wit Lit because it's 20-21th century literature that brilliantly provokes relevant, close-to-home thought in the reader. The fact that it was written in 1961 is significant in that the particular questions Yates poses were unexpected and bold within the context of my mother's graduating class. These American kids were poised to waltz out into the world and set up houses with nice white picket fences, swing sets, and husbands who wore suits to work while the girls stayed home and baked to ensure the home smelled yummy for hubby's return. Yates gave them something to think about, and he gives us something to think about today. Thus another criterion for Wit Lit: timeless.

In Revolutionary Road, Yates masterfully uses the one certifiably crazy character, John Givings, to deliver truth to a bunch of neighborhood chicks and dudes who, despite their wonderful, intelligent qualities, find themselves caught in the cultural quagmire of the 1950's my mother so misses. This crazy guy, John, seems to have much to give, however lacking the acceptable 1950's social skills, he’s been wheeled out of town to an institution. His parents define him as unstable and ill, yet Yates never provides facts to support why he's been classified this way. John actually seems to know what he's talking about in a room full of people struggling to put up all the kinds of fronts that maintain the perfect picture John has escaped.

The Wheelers and main characters, Frank and April, have much to offer to each other, their children, and themselves, but they can't seem to pull past bitter disappointment as they fail to physically escape the Norman Rockwell life they’ve been pressured to emulate. Yates brilliantly casts an inner pallor over the white picket fences, swing sets, yummy smells, and pressed suits of that stifling world. Frank and April aptly recognize that pallor yet fail to grasp the magnitude of choices within their reach. Frank describes the culture he longs to escape like this:

"Christ's sake, when it comes to any kind of a showdown we're still in the Middle Ages. It's as if everyone'd made this tacit agreement to live in a state of total self-deception. The hell with reality! Let's have a whole bunch of cute little winding and cute little houses painted white and pink and baby blue; let's all be good consumers and have a lot of Togetherness and bring our children up in a bath of sentimentality--Daddy's a great man because he makes a living, Mummy's a great woman because she's stuck by Daddy all these years--and if old reality ever does pop out and say Boo we'll all get busy and pretend it never happened."

However, reality is all around Frank. He falls prey to the sad unreality he longs to escape through his inability to honestly express himself in nearly all his relationships.

He describes his work like this: "I mean the great advantage of a place like Knox is that you can sort of turn off your mind every morning at nine and leave it off all day, and nobody knows the difference," yet he misses opportunities to tap into his intellect at Knox because he's blinded by his own ideas of escape.

The fate of those on Yates' Revolutionary Road shows that revolution comes from within. It doesn't matter what town, road, or home you live in. Yates deftly relays how revolutionary moments, decisions, and actions can be missed if we fail to look inward rather than outward. Interestingly, another character, the Wheeler's neighbor, Shep Campbell, grew up in the sort of high-brow intellectual, arty world to which the Wheelers long to escape. Ironically, Shep spent his younger adult years desperate to break out of that particular mold by settling himself into the cookie cutter world of Revolutionary Road. He comes to realize that he doesn't want to live on the street either—thus we see another character searching outward rather than inward.

In one cool Chick versus Wit moment of the novel, John Givings says to Frank, "I like your girl, Wheeler ... I get the feeling she's female. You know what the difference between female and feminine is? Huh? Well, here's a hint: a feminine woman never laughs out loud and always shaves her armpits. Old Helen (his mom) is feminine as hell. I've only met about half a dozen females in my life, and I think you got one of them here. Course, come to think of it, that figures. I get the feeling you're male. There aren't too many males around, either."

If she existed in 2009, John Giving's mom, Helen, would probably enjoy Sophie Kinsella's work. If, like Helen, you prefer to escape the real world, whether through the purchase of a nice white fence, a corporate job that keeps you too busy to feel, or religious services that don't require real contemplation, stick to reading Chick Lit. In The Undomestic Goddess, Kinsella's characters always say exactly what they're thinking and feeling. Her conflicts are vastly situational rather than internal. The characters may have been quite comfortable on Revolutionary Road back in the ‘50s. I suspect Kinsella could have nicely resolved Frank and April's issues with a lot of superb communication, and a nice summer trip to the EU. We'd all be smiling with stars in our eyes but somehow less enlightened about the true nature of humanity.

So, if you prefer to open an eye or two to the complexity, inconsistency, creativity, and hidden beauty of reality, pick up Revolutionary Road, and hope that today's emerging writers can perpetuate truth the way Yates did in 1961. Demand more Wit Lit! Walk past the chicks and dudes, and take the train toward being real females and males who search inward for answers rather than grasping at all the turn of the century machinations our society imposes. There are still a heck of a lot of streets like Revolutionary Road in our towns and cities. Just because we may live there, doesn't mean we’re trapped.

Chick Lit Vs. Wit Lit: The Road to Literary Revolution

Check out Penelope's first guest blogging gig--a book review. Visit the The Bluestocking Guide, the book blog of Brooke Bonett, an attorney and avid reader.

Penelope discusses how the similarities and differences of two popular books, Sophie Kinsella's The Undomestic Goddess, and Richard Yates' Revolutionary Road, reflect a fundamental reader and cultural choice. There is no right or wrong favorite, but if "you are what you read" is true, perhaps it's one that calls for additional thought.

After Wednesday, you can also read the article here on Aberration Nation.

Sh-t Hits a Homeless Fan: An Aberration Story

... all of our experiences, good and bad, have the power to enrich our lives.

How many of us have personally known homeless folks? If you're like me, you may have passed them on the streets of New York, Nashville, or Los Angeles, looking tired, dirty, and hungry. You may have heard stories about folks fallen prey to sad sack stories of the homeless needing money to visit dying mothers, or to buy food for their kids when all they really wanted was the next high. Let's face it, we're all a little uneasy about offering a helping hand because, unfortunately, we live in a dishonest world.

I'll admit I haven't always been the best judge of character. I was born believing that everyone is good at heart. I've suffered many a disappointment and heartbreak by finding out the hard way how untrue that can be ... including lessons learned about my own nature. With that said, I still hope and believe that every bum, stripper, burnt out wrestler, and dirty, scary looking teen out there isn't inherently bad. I look into their eyes and search for a kernel of good, something deserving of my hope, love, and understanding.

Besides being born naive, I also do this because I can't forget the moments when people (some strangers and some closer to home) have looked at me with disgust and hatred as if to say, "You deserve what you got!" Maybe I did, and maybe the bum I saw during my recent visit to Times Square did, too, but maybe, just maybe, there are times when a storm catches us, spinning us out of control, and flailing and grasping to steady ourselves, feeling sick and confused, we just do the best damn thing we can. And our best isn't that great by the world's standards, but it's the choice we grab hold of to pull ourselves through. If we're smart and full of heart, sometimes the circumstances we land in can show us the final path out.

Well, I'm pleased to report that parts of our world are still honest. The newest member of Aberration Nation found herself in a destructive relationship with two young daughters, and she made a choice. Margay did the best she could at the time. She got out of a storm but ended up homeless. Then she was hit with a few other aberrations. Like many of us, she was forced to deal with several life-altering situations at once. The shit hit the homeless fan, so to speak. When you read her story I'm sure you'll agree that, under the circumstances, she did a fantastic job of leading her family to a better place. Margay's story shows us that not all who are homeless are heartless. When armed with the right amount of determination, any system can work.

Many of us have more than one aberration. If we're lucky, we get to deal with these one at a time; however, life doesn't usually work that way. At a certain point in your life, you were hit with several overlapping issues. Can you tell us what happened?

Well, after a series of events that started with me losing my job after 9/11 and ended with me living in a homeless shelter with my two young girls, I found myself facing two very frightening events for any mother. My younger daughter and I both fell ill and went through a series of tests and doctor visits and hospitalizations before we discovered what was wrong with us. the strange thing is that the two conditions, while very different, ran parallel to each other, and still do, at times. My daughter was hospitalized first, in February of 2003, with a stomach problem that, we learned at a later time, was linked to a mental health diagnosis that wouldn't come until much later. While she was in the hospital, the symptoms that I had been feeling for at least a month before--numbness, tingling sensations, the inability to hold something in my hand for more than five minutes without suddenly dropping it--culminated in me taking a terrible spill outside of the hospital on my way home one night. Still, I wasn't able to get to my own doctor until my daughter was out of the hospital. Several appointments with three different doctors and a hospitalization later, I was told that what I had was Multiple Sclerosis. That was in the Spring. That June, we received the devastating news that my younger daughter had bipolar disorder. It would be five more years before it was determined that she also had Asperger's Syndrome.

How did you initially cope with all the diagnosis for you and your younger daughter while homeless?

It was difficult because there is no privacy in a shelter. You may have your own room to go to, but still, everyone knew everyone else's business and everyone liked to gossip, or so it seemed. But, in what I now perceive as a life-saving stroke of intuition, when we first entered the shelter, I had arranged with my counselor to get therapists (a separate one for each, another good idea, as it turned out) for my daughters and myself, just to cope with the struggles of being in a shelter. As it turned out, that move saved our sanity. Having someone to talk to, outside of the shelter, about everything that was bothering me, including life at the shelter and all that entailed, was crucial. I think that is what kept me from giving in to despair. That, and visiting my mother as often as I could. She kept me grounded, kept me from giving up by reminding me what I had to lose if I didn't push through this terrible period in my life. Another thing that made it difficult was the debilitating symptoms of my condition. I was tired all the time, my legs were totally numb before the steroid treatments, and I just wanted to sleep my life away. So of course, those were the times when my younger daughter had her worst episodes with the bipolar disorder and often had to go in for psych consults. Eventually, they put her in an A.R.T. program for a few weeks, but in my opinion, that didn't do anything to help her. And through all of this, I was trying to give my older daughter as much stability as I could, under the circumstances. It was the most difficult time in my life.

You're no longer homeless. How were you able to pull yourself out of that situation?

One of the requirements of living in the shelter is that you have to send out applications to every housing authority and low income facility on the packet they provide you. I did so diligently. Still, I was in the shelter for about fourteen months before an opening became available in a family housing project in my old home town. I have since moved on to better circumstances, but I am so grateful that I had that opportunity to start to rebuild my life.

Many people think of homeless people as lazy or mentally deranged. Did you happen to meet other homeless folks, and if so, what did you learn about them? Did your own ideas about homelessness change after being in those shoes yourself and meeting others like yourself?

The shelter that I lived in housed fourteen families in total, so there were a lot of people there and although some might have fit the preconceived notions about the homeless, the majority didn't. The majority were people just like me; people who, through circumstances beyond their control, found themselves in need of a place to stay while they got back on their feet. I have to admit, my own opinion might have been colored by other's perceptions at one point, but I soon learned differently. I met a lot of wonderful people at the shelter who were just victims of a bad turn of luck and wanted to do whatever they could to get beyond it and make a better life for their families. So I guess you could say that my perception did change. Nowadays, whenever anyone makes a derogatory remark about the homeless, I am quick to defend them and to point out that everyone is just one paycheck away from being homeless. This is especially true in today's economy...

How did your younger daughter come to be diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome?

Well, we had been dealing with the bipolar diagnosis for about five years at that point and she had gone through a series of therapists/psychiatrists in those years. When we moved out of the shelter, I set her up with one who was closer to where we lived and who also was willing to meet with her clients in school. She was with that therapist for three years before the therapist decided to go into private practice and referred us to another therapist within the same agency. After meeting with my daughter for about three months, that therapist, in conjunction with the psychiatrist, presented the diagnosis of Asperger's Syndrome, in addition to the bipolar disorder.

How were you able to cope with this new kink to the family system? Did you find the strength to take deep breaths and properly cope? If so, how did you muster that strength? If not, how did you eventually get a grip on the situation?

This is going to sound odd, but it wasn't a shock to me. I have a friend who is a special education teacher and while we were still living in the shelter, she told me that, upon doing some research of Asperger's in anticipation of a new student she would be having in the Fall, she began to suspect that this was what was ailing my daughter. She even sent me a copy of her research and I had to agree with everything she highlighted. So when the therapist said, "This is what we think we're dealing with," I just nodded and felt an extreme sense of relief. I think I just barely kept myself from shouting, "Finally!" because I suspected, even before my friend sent me the information, that there was still a piece of the puzzle missing. I think my daughter was relieved, too, because we finally had something to call the way she felt in school and social situations. So it was a good thing for us to get that diagnosis. I'm not saying that it has made the situation easier to handle, because it hasn't, but it has helped us to understand it better. Understanding is the beginning of change. As for mustering the strength, I have a wonderful support system and it starts with my mother who keeps me grounded and helps me to make sense of everything.

Multiple Sclerosis is a serious disease, and one that progresses. Are you concerned about the future for your daughters? What is your current philosophy in terms of what types of outcomes you wish for them?

I am always concerned about the outcome for my daughters. Even before I fell ill, I worried even more so because they were abandoned by their father when I decided to end the marriage because of his alcoholism and drug abuse. I worried that I didn't do enough to help their father even though he was beyond what help I could give him at that point. I worried that I had damaged them by denying them their father even though it was his choice not to come around anymore. So of course my concerns magnified when I was diagnosed with M.S. Fortunately for me, I am managing my symptoms and it's in a sort of holding pattern right now, so we're able to plan for the future just as if I wasn't ill. The last thing I want is for either of my daughters to feel like they have to put their lives on hold to care for me. As a matter of fact, my older daughter is in the process of preparing for college next fall and I am preparing to home school her sister because her current situation has become such a toxic situation for her that she developed school phobia and suffers from severe anxiety at the mere thought of having to enter the building. My philosophy is that I want them to prepare for their lives the same way they would if I didn't have M.S. I don't want my condition to deter them from reaching their goals, just as I am not allowing it to deter me from reaching my own. As a result of that philosophy, I achieved one of my major goals in life this past November when I had my first book, Nora's Soul, published.

As I often say, sometimes life sucks--that's the nature of the beast. But life is also beautiful and poignant. Through it all, what are the beautiful things that you have seen? Tell us what gifts have resulted from the struggles that you've lead your family through.

I couldn't agree more! There is so much beauty yet to be seen and enjoyed, whether it's a sunset, the first spring blossom, or the fiery foliage of Fall in New England. (Can you tell where I'm from?) Beauty comes in many forms and perhaps the most beautiful thing that I've witnessed on my current journey is the strengthening of the relationships in my family, particularly between myself and one of my sisters, who also has bipolar disorder. She has given me such great insight into the machinations of my daughter's mind, but she's also encouraged a special relationship with my daughter because she truly understands how my daughter feels - right down to the stomach problems that still plague her. That is the true gift here.

Of course, no one wishes tough times upon themselves. With that said, do you believe it's better to live a perfect life atop a silver platter, or do you believe that the struggles we face ultimately enrich our lives if we allow them to?

Who wants to live on a silver platter? It's cold and everyone looks at you funny. Seriously, though, all of our experiences, good and bad, have the power to enrich our lives. It's all in how we perceive them. And if we don't accept the bad, how can we appreciate the good? The struggles we face are what define us as people and bring out our true nature and teach us how to be better people, if we but listen. Although I don't enjoy some of my circumstances and don't relish what I have to face on a daily basis, I wouldn't want to change the circumstances that have led me to where I am today. Everything I have endured has made me the person I am and has put me in the path of some truly wonderful people that I would not have met otherwise. I do believe that my life has been enriched by my circumstances and I wouldn't want to change that.

Many people are struggled today due to our poor economic situation, among other things. If you could say anything to the world in regard to coping amidst multiple pressures and heartaches, what would that be?

Your worries will crush you if you let them. Don't let them. Take care of yourself and your mental health because if you don't, your body will start to break down and then you will have another issue to deal with. Don't be too proud to seek counseling if you're depressed; shatter those taboos about therapy. A good percentage of people in therapy are people like me who just needed to talk to someone about their situations; just because you see a therapist, it doesn't mean there's something wrong with you. (And keep in mind that people who are mentally ill aren't wrong, either; they're just wired differently.) Even if you don't talk to a therapist, talk to someone. Don't keep it bottled up inside; eventually it will explode and the results can be disastrous. And try not to give in to the mentality that the world is ending because you're facing all of these crises at once. It's not. Have faith in yourself, believe that you are strong enough and capable enough to handle it, and you will get through it. You just have to believe.