The Other Graduation

This part was supposed to go into that Brady Bunch post, but it was just getting too long.

I graduated, too.

Yesterday, I graduated from middle school again. I've quit my teaching job so that I can go into the bakery business. It feels like a graduation. Remember when you graduated from high school and/or college and it was all exciting and scary? You knew what you were going to do, but it was so different from what you'd been doing that the unknowns made you kind of nervous? You just didn't know what it was going to be like. This feels just like that.

I used my special education certification to be a middle school In-School Suspension and Alternative School teacher for seven years. Oh, the stories I could tell... and probably will one day. And oh, the things I learned. I learned a lot about myself and the kind of person I want to be. I learned a whole lot about parenting and the kind of people I want my kids to be.

I learned patience.
I learned forgiveness.
I learned to let it go.
I learned how to say no.
I learned to keep a straight face (almost).
I learned how to listen.
I learned what to listen to and what to ignore.
I learned that I can't fix everything that needs fixing.
I learned how to ask for help.
I learned that it's OK to be different.
I learned that it's OK to let people be wrong.

Most importantly, I learned that people matter. Everyone has a story, and every story is important. Maybe not interesting, but important. People matter and deserve to be celebrated. I think that it is this notion, more than anything else, that led me into the cake decorating profession. People matter. I want to make cakes for people that they use to celebrate what's important to them. I want to use this next part of my life to be a part of someone's joy rather than their embarrassment and guilt.

Remember that time I walked into a classroom to borrow something from another teacher and a kid burst into tears at the sight of me? Yeah, kids don't generally do that when you're there with a cake.

It's a terrible waste of the withering glare that I carefully honed over the last seven years, I'll admit.

It's time to move on. But holy cow, I'm going to miss my coworkers.

Thanks for the adventures, you guys.

Don't Fight the Tide, Come Along For the Ride

That's not a Bama reference, for the record. It's from this:

You should watch the video because I shouldn't be the only one with that groovy tune stuck in her head.

Let's face it... they were no Partridge Family. Behold, the origins of autotune!

What was I-? Oh, yes. Might be time to get the TSH checked again. SQUIRREL!

<real post>
It's graduation season!

I've made a couple of graduation cakes- I hope to make a LOT more this time next year.

There is so much gear in my cake room that I literally forgot I had a  Cricut Cake until I was trying to figure out how to do this cake. It is time to move all this stuff into a shop, right?

Both of the monsters graduated from their respective schools.

Bug's graduation was in her school cafeteria.

There was a lovely reception spread and the teachers called the kids' names and gave out awards. Bug won her class art award. The ceremony was short and sweet. And, Bug's amazing teacher made each kid a scrapbook with pictures of them doing things throughout their entire pre-K year. They're full of pictures, poems, handprints, and stories. And they're all hand-made. Those things must have taken hours and hours, and I absolutely treasure it.

This is the same teacher who came to Bug's ballet recital and birthday party. I've known teachers who have invested their lives into their students before, but they're rare. It's phenomenal seeing it happen from the parent perspective. We were very lucky this year and will miss Mrs. Grouby terribly.

Oh, yeah. And, Bug managed to test to mastery on all the kindergarden standards by the end of pre-K. Sheesh.

Then, a quick stop at the doctor for this sinus infection and I was off to meet the family at Boo's graduation.

Boo's graduation was in the rec center next to his school. It was hotter and much more crowded than Bug's ceremony. There was no reception after, and many parents were talking on their cell phones throughout the program. Not cool.

Boo wore a medal around his neck that said "Honor Roll". He got all S's on all his academics (and conduct) all year. 

 See the picture on the board behind them? Boo's teacher made a movie of her class and their adventures this year. She gave each kid a copy It's adorable. Boo's watched it at least a dozen times so far.

But the best thing Boo's teacher sent home was the writing journal. She took that kid right there, the kid who couldn't hold a pencil correctly, the kid who was scared to learn to read, and she made him a writer. He writes all the time. All. The. Time. I now understand that it's because Ms. Mark built in her class the habit of writing. When Boo sees something that might be worth writing down, he does it. You can see that habit develop in the writing journal.

There's a page for every day. The early pages are mostly random marks and drawings. Near the scribbles, in neat teacher handwriting, the intent of the message is translated.

As the year progresses, the letters become more easily recognized, words form, spelling happens, and punctuation starts. It's amazing. The May entries are multi-sentence paragraphs about life as a kindergartener.

He also reads now. This teacher gave our son a love of books- mostly Junie B. Jones. He's always enjoyed being read to, but now he can read to himself.

Next year, the kids will be back together at the same school. They were separated this year because the pre-K program is only run out of two locations in our school system.

For now, though, we're looking at a summer of adventure and baking. It's going to be a good one!

Back to the Real World

I'm home!

This is what I found when I came home.

This morning, I left mom's bright and early so that I could wade through the morning rush hour traffic and drive from the east side of Atlanta to the west side of Birmingham. Oy, people need to pay attention to each other. But, at least I'm off the low iodine diet so I had my friend, Mr. Starbucks, in the car to make the drive more bearable. And the car has been completely scrubbed out with 409, so it was pretty darn pleasant to drive. Plus, it was full of gas I got for cheap using my Kroger card:

Sad that this counts for cheap, isn't it?

This time, I parked in the 6th Ave parking deck. This is the third UAB parking deck I've used, and it's my new favorite. Free patient parking for nuclear medicine AND reserved patient parking places right next to the entrance? Yes, please.

No other spaces on either side of this reserved space. I felt so important.

So I used my keen navigational skills and years of airport experience to find my way to nuclear medicine.

At least there's no moving sidewalk to contend with.

Another day, another bracelet.

And then, in to the scan.

This was my third experience in the old radioactive thyroid scanner-majig. This is the same machine they use to test thyroid function, so it's pretty familiar. I've done thyroid scans in the machines at Eastside Medical, at East Alabama, an now at UAB. They should give commemorative pins or something for collectors. And, just like the machines at Eastside an EAMC, the machine at UAB lulled me to sleep. Three for three, sleeping through thyroid scans.

The scans were fine. I have some thyroid tissue in my neck that's currently dying from the radiation- that's the cause of that neck pain. I also have some uptake in my carotid, but we're not going to worry about that. Overall, RAI was a success. Hooray!

My scans. The black spots are radioactive- the big black splotch is the residual thyroid tissue in my neck.

I'm still radioactive, but I can go back to work tomorrow.

The international symbol for "Hug me!"

I think it's something like sixteen more days of school, and then I'm a professional baker! Exciting! My letter of resignation is written and ready to print. My ICES convention registration is finished. I'm going to start my LLC and permit paperwork next week. Holy smokes! Oh! And I have these super cute cake and cake pop stands to show off at my first demo next weekend:

Using suckers to demonstrate the cake pop stands because making cake pops is a pain in the thyroid.

The new phone will be here tomorrow- I chose to sacrifice my cell phone so that I could stay in contact with people and take pictures. Now, it's radioactive and it has to go. But it's ok- I was due for an upgrade, and the texter is messing up on this phone anyway.

Overall:
Seven days away from my husband and kids was AWFUL!
Sleeping as late as I wanted was pretty good.
The low iodine diet is of the devil.
The food at mom's house makes up for it.
Eight days off of work was the spring break I never had.
Going back in tomorrow is going to be TOUGH. (But Doss made me biscotti, so the day can't be a total downer. You hear that, day? YOU CAN'T BE A TOTAL DOWNER!)

RAI by the numbers:
Trips to UAB this week: 4
hours admitted to the hospital: 23
miles in the car: 1,216
hours in the scanner: 1.5
copay: $200 (I wonder if cancer insurance will work for this treatment, too?)
nights at mom's: 6
cake stands made for the demo: 12
kids' teeth lost while I was gone: 1
days the girl stayed home from school, sick, while I was gone: 2
number of final exams the kids "helped" Doss give to night classes: 2
when I want to see another piece of hard candy: never

And that's most of a part of some of the story of my first RAI treatment.

Quarantine

Four days after the dose, and I'm still in quarantine at my mom's. I still can't shoot webs, but I have some pain in my neck. Not sure why... it's where the right side of my thyroid used to be. Anybody got any ideas?

As of yesterday, I was able to go out and do things, as long as I wasn't in any one place for more than a few minutes. Happily, my brother rescued me by inviting me to Grayson Day. It's outdoors! And arts and craftsy! Score!

So we wandered the booths for a while and it was wonderful. We found our mom a Mother's Day gift (two weeks, people, get on it!) and met some very nice people. Good times, but I wish I'd gotten a foot long corn dog. Not that I like corn dogs all that much, but for the novelty of getting a foot long corn dog.

Today was rainy, so I spent most of the day down here in the basement. It wasn't a total waste, though, because I finally got started on the cake stands I need to make for the Georgia ICES demo next week. Check them out:

Pretty, right? I made three like this.

This is a close up of the tiki-statue leg of this luau cake stand. The plate part is bright green and fabulously tacky.

Perfect for hibiscus cupcakes.

I love this one. Pink, swirly stained glass with pretty beads going all around it? Yes, please.

But this has to be my favorite, and it's not even finished yet. If I am lucky enough for the Georgia Tech band to ever order another cake from me, I'll be ready with the stand. 

The last piece of cake should be served off "The Horse".

I have more to do tomorrow, but these were fun. 

Only three more days until I get to see my husband and kids again!

*About this quarantine thing*

I forget that not everybody has received the radiation guidelines from UAB four hundred times. So, FYI:

Radioactive Iodine (RAI) is processed and secreted through body fluids (saliva, urine, sweat, etc.). Hence all the drinking at the hospital. Because it comes out in sweat, all of my skin is radioactive. That's why I have to be away from my kids and that's why everything at the hospital was covered in plastic. Everything I touch gets contaminated.

Everything the Mandi touches...

So, to try and keep everyone else safe, I stay down here in my hidey hole as much as possible. I wore socks 24/7 for the first three days I was here so my footprints wouldn't be as bad. I also wore latex gloves whenever I had to go upstairs for any reason.

The couch down here is covered: I have a plastic bag on this cushion and the whole couch is covered with a furniture cover. 

The remote is covered in plastic, too.

My bed has a plastic cover on the mattress and the kids' mattresses have been completely moved out for this week. I will throw away the cover and pillow when I head back home. I'll also throw away my shoes and get a new phone (but this was overdue anyway).

My laundry gets washed completely separately and goes through the wash twice. Then I run the washer empty (but with some chelating cleaner like 409 in there) before anyone else can put their clothes in there. I use paper plates and disposable cutlery. I have a separate trash can for all the food trash stuff and anything else I touch, and nobody else can empty it. 

I have to flush twice and everything in the bathroom gets rinsed frequently and wiped down daily. I'll scrub it all with 409 before I leave. The toothbrush, hairbrush, shampoo, loofah, and everything else I've used will be thrown away.

Everything that went to the hospital with me will be put away for at least four weeks, so packing was an adventure. 

My daily pills were individually bagged so that I can take them without contaminating the pill bottle. I'll throw away this bottle of eye drops.  

The car is going to be interesting. It was a 3+ hour drive form UAB to mom's so I know that the car is wicked radioactive. I'll wipe down as much as I can and try to keep the kids out of there as much as possible until June.

Does that help?

I go for a full body scan on Wednesday and we'll see what lights up. Hopefully, just the salivary glands, kidneys, and bladder will show up on the scan. That's what's supposed to be radioactive now. I expect something in the neck to glow because of this pain- and that's ok. Some remnant thyroid is to be expected. What we DON'T want is anything like the lymph nodes, ovaries, or anything else to light up because that'll mean the thyroid cancer spread. That's not a good prize. But I'm sure it'll be fine.

Then, when everything is clear, I get to do this whole thing over again every 5-10 years. Overall, it's not as bad as I expected, so that's ok.

Radiation Adventures

Thanks to the Thyrogen protocol, I was able to do the RAI therapy without going off my synthetic thyroid hormone for a month (and therefore missing a month of life by being too hypothyroid to get out of bed).

The 2nd $2K shot... I call this one "Lefty"

I got to UAB early on Wednesday morning and tried to navigate my way to admitting.

Concourse A? Like the airport?

The admitting waiting room

Tagged

Then they got an escort to take me to my room on the ninth floor. Not that kind of escort. UAB is so big that they have a whole team of people who just help you find your way from one place to another. 

I'd read that everything would be covered in plastic, but that didn't prepare me to see everything covered in plastic. 

The entire floor was covered.

The phone and phone cords

The rolling table thingy

But look! They provided all sorts of goodies.

The call button thingy and its cord

The chair

The door knob

EVERYTHING was covered in plastic

The door pulls

The shower? The shower has to be covered? 

And this super-cool trash can inspires all sorts of confidence.

UAB is different from EAMC. It's much bigger, obviously, but there are other differences. Meals are very different. At EAMC, they give you a menu card and you circle what you want. Then, they bring it at meal time. At UAB, they call it room service:

You order whatever you want and they bring it when you order it. It's still hospital food, but the concept is great:

I took this picture of the hallway before they dosed me so that I could remember what it looked like outside the door:

What up, 9 North! 

This wing is apparently a long-term care wing. The people who aren't radioactive seem to stay for a while. They have a laundry room and a communal kitchen for patients and guests. I met one guy who was there for his sixth quadruple bypass. He was about my age, and he knew he wasn't going home. That was tough. We chatted through the door before they brought in the radioactive pill:

My homey little room

The nurses and techs were allowed to be in my room for no more than twenty minutes per day. Yeesh. This is the instruction sheet on the door for what they had to do to enter or leave my room:

Then they brought in the pill. It was in a little test tube, and the test tube was sealed inside this big, lead container:

They unsealed it, and I had to swallow it as quickly as possible so we were all exposed to the pill as little as possible. Then we all watched to see if I would throw it up: 

This is the closest any doctor or nurse would get to me in the room unless they had to take a blood pressure or something.

I didn't throw it up. 

Then the dude with the geiger counter came to check my levels and establish how radioactive I was right after the dose. 

Radiation level: pretty darn high

He said, "I'mma tell you what your husband already know. You hot."

The best part of RAI is that the doctors tell you to keep candy in your mouth as much as possible. It's like eating popsicles after getting your tonsils out. After fourteen days on the low iodine diet, I was not about to argue with those orders.

The point of the candy is to keep the radioiodine from damaging the salivary glands. Iodine is absorbed by the thyroid and the salivary glands. We want the thyroid to soak up the radioiodine (and die), but we don't want the salivary glands to collect it. Then, I'd lose my sense of taste which is not good for an aspiring baker. So we use candy to keep the saliva production up.

All the radioiodine that isn't absorbed by the thyroid has to be processed out. In order to be released from the hospital, I had to get my geiger reading way down. That meant drinking:

Boom! I cleared my geigers on the first try! For posterity, in the 21 hours between getting dosed and clearing my geigers, I drank:

144 oz water

9 cans of soda

1 cup of coffee

1 glass of tea

1 cup of grape juice

2 cups of cranberry juice

I took three showers

And I slept 12 hours.

This was my room:

Now I'm at my mom's, living in the (perfectly lovely, finished) basement apartment. I'm drinking water, taking showers, and sucking candy to try to clear as much radiation as possible for when I go home next week. This is the hardest part. I feel fine. I can't see, taste, or feel anything different from normal. But I have to be away from my husband and kids for a week. I miss them.

I go back for the full body scan next Wednesday. Then I can go home. Meanwhile, it's tv and computer for me. It's like spring break all over again.