Do you have a favorite in-law?

After reading a post http://mkatyc.blogspot.com/2008/08/confused.html recently about a woman who is separated from her husband and was contemplating the notion that she may not being able to retain a relationship with her in-laws, I started thinking. What would I do? Could I possibly sever the relationships that I have with my in-laws? Chuck and I have been married for over 20 years so I almost feel like I have grown up with his family, it would definitely be difficult.

I, of course, would miss all of them tremendously but to be honest, I think I might miss the company of my sister-in-law's husband Fast Eddie the most.


"Fast" is almost an oxymoron as he is not "Fast" at all. Ed doesn't ever hurry and rarely gets excited or upset. He works at a slow and steady pace with everything from grandchildren to golf. He is always calm and patient, he never allows things to bother him. Fast Eddie always takes the time to make each person feel special. Other than family funerals, I don't think in 20+ years, I can recall ever seeing him upset or shaken. Ed is generally up for anything and would go out of his way for anyone. He even offered to drive to NYC to pick up tickets for the Yankee's game. Considering that he lives over 6 hours away that is a pretty nice offer. I did not take Ed up on his offer because I actually wasn't sure how many days it would take Fast Eddie. A little history, Ed actually applied to go on the Amazing Race reality show. The only glitch was Ed was to slow to turn in his application.


Fast Eddie has always welcomed me with a kiss and a hug even before we moved 3,047 miles away. That may not sound like such a big deal to some people, I actually know quite a few Cali people who scream with excitement each and every time they see one another – it drives me insane. I know, some people are just “huggier” than others. The other in-law members are not big on hugs or kisses, they don't often say the words “I love you" to one another. Not that they don't love each other, they do, it’s just not a phrase that is spoken often. Growing up, my family always said “I love you”. Coming or going, it was said numerous times each day. Of course my family would also be the first one to tell you to f*ck off and then ask to borrow your shirt.


I'm not sure if it is because Ed and I married into the family that we get along so well, but it is one of my theories. Maybe that is why we've bonded over the years. I have other in-laws that like I married into the family but I'm not as particularly close to them. We all have our issues but let’s just say that some of "those" in-laws are pretty quirky (totally another post). – disclaimer – I’m sure they would say the same about me.


Another reason why Fast Eddie could possibly be my favorite is because he always let me be his First Mate on his boat. Although I never get to wear his Captain's hat, I know that he has all the faith in me that I can throw out the ski ropes and alert the Captain if one of the skiers has taken a face plant in the water Ed has never once questioned my ability as his First Mate. Maybe Fast Eddie holds a higher place in my heart than others is because after a rough day of boating, Fast Eddie always asks if he can buy the first round.

Webster NY - The Ryans

When we went to NY in August, our first stop was to visit our old neighbors, Joe & Carol Ryan. They were very good neighbors to us after our third year on DeWitt Road. I'm not saying the first two years were bad, they were not around much as they had a cottage to tend to and to be honest, my kids were young and loud. I can't say I blame them for not coming over to my side of the fence that often as sometimes, I too was afraid of my kids.
Joe & Carol have two sons that are almost my age (early 40's) who don't really have many goals in life. Sometimes, they still "live at home". Joe & Carol had to utilize the "tough love" procedures in parenting and I think they just got to point in their lives where it was just easier to throw up their hands and say fuck it.
After a while, the Ryans managed to let their guard down and come on my side of the fence, we began to enjoyed each other's company. When I was sick, the Ryans came over with food and we get my kids off the bus if Chuck and I were not there due to doctor appointments. They always wanted to help us often asking if there was anything they could do for us. Mrs. Ryan listened to me whine and cry, mope and laugh during our tea time. I think that my kids ended up being surrogate grandchildren to Joe & Carol as their sons definitely were not in a position to give them any and it would not have been a wise decision on their part. Joe & Carol have a very big extended family as I think Joe was one in 8 kids born to an Irish Family. Joe & Carol love St. Patrick's Day, Ireland and celebrate anything that might be considered Irish. They are good Irish people.
Mrs. Ryan and I started having tea after a few years; having 3 young kids did not give me much of a chance to escape to far. If I could not be found on our lot, the first place the kids checked was Mrs. Ryans house. For the most part, the kids were good in her house but there was always something to check out as she collected Boyds Bears and would set up a Bear Tea party using her stuffed Boyds. She had different outfits for the seasons or holidays and Carly especially found these tea times very interesting. I admit, I did too.
When we visited in August, I strolled over and looked at my old house. The gardens I sweated over and spent numerous therapy sessions in were all gone. The new owners bought a riding mower and had mowed it all down. Every Black-eyed-susan, poker plant, dianthus, hosta, coral-bells, everything. I know, it’s their house now, not mine - I should not say a thing. Starting to feel sad, I managed to see two Rose of Sharon tree survivors. So I snagged them. Stole them and flew them home to CA where I put them in a vase right away. Today, I looked at the vase and saw roots galore indicating they were thriving. I think they were happy to be here in California so I've planted them. I guess I've brought another bit of my old home into my new home. Next year, I will see what else I can steal from the ungrateful occupants of 858 Dewitt Road.

Cancer Sucks, Slashes & Burns

Three years ago, we moved from New York to California. Our decision to do this was primarily based on the fact that my husband and I were very tired of NY winters. We lived in NY all of our lives and once we were in our 40's, we decided to move.

In addition to the winters, we (my family and I) had all just survived a journey through Breast Cancer World. I say "we," because it wasn't just me that had to deal with this beast; our whole family had to defeat this wicked disease. We made a decision to put the house on the market, load the family van up with our prized possessions, put the rest of our goods on a moving van, and drive; drive 3,014 mile cross country with the 100-lb black lab, our cat Mallory, the lizard, and three kids to a home we only saw via the Internet. Crazy, or just plain insane?

Rewind this story five years, to August, 2002. My father had just died at age 67 from a stroke. My mom spent three years taking care of him, only to not take care of herself. She often said that everyone always asked how "Dad" was doing. No one ever asked her how "she" was doing." To be honest; it wrecked her, and to her, it seemed no one cared.

After Dad died, I went back to my house and tried to get back into my world. I had a mammogram scheduled in October and I just had a "feeling." This "feeling" could have been contributed by the fact that in my immediate family (my Mom's sister, my Dad's sisters - Cindy and Cathy, my cousin Courtney (Cindy's daughter) and my sister Kelley) all had had breast cancer. I was to be number "6." I was considered a "late bloomer" in reference to the age I was at the time I was diagnosed with Breast Cancer, afterall I was 39. My sister was 36, my two Aunts were in their 20's and my cousin Courtney was 29. After my mammogram, the radiologist had me come into a separate room, where he tried to tell me his thoughts. Before he could speak I told him that I knew what he was about to say - that I had cancer. I told him it was ok, as I was expecting to get it at some point.

I told my husband (on our 15th wedding anniversary) and our kids. I tried to put on the brave face. People gave advice, telling me that a good attitude was the best thing and that I would definitely survive if I had a great attitude. I wanted to ask them if I felt like having a shitty attitude, would I die much quicker, and get it over with? One lady who found out through the grapevine that I had cancer asked me if I would die soon. Although I wanted to beat her with a stick, I nicely responded with "I hope not" - (rule #1, great attitude).

Telling my mom was a bit harder as she had already lost one daughter from cancer and just buried her husband 3 weeks before. I'm pretty sure that my mom made a deal with a higher power, trading her life for mine, as she died two months later. I decided to have a double (thank you bartender; I'll have a double) mastectomy and no reconstruction. My sister had reconstruction immediately after her mastectomy, and there ended up being a 2nd tumor behind the implant, which was not detected. I felt like a little boy with no breasts and no hair anywhere on my body. I felt between losing my dad, my mom, and myself all within 19 weeks - I had reached the lowest possible point in my life. I did speak to God one night and I told him how much I appreciated the fact that he had so much faith in me but, I was ok with him moving on and testing someone else for a while.

One night, sitting on the couch, feeling nothing my self pity, I started to cry. Chuck looked at me and asked why I was crying, to which I responded - "I miss my Mom." Chuck would not allow me any pity; he knew I would have to be pushed at some point. Chuck looked at me and said "Well, there are 3 kids in this house that miss their mom, too." Talk about a kick in the chest, but it was what I needed, as I was starting to wonder "what if?" The day before this, I had allowed the "what if's" to almost get me; I went to the store and purchased birthday cards for all of my children until they would turn 18. I signed them all as if I would not be alive to give them the cards in person. I definitely needed a wake up call, which Chuck (thankfully) provided. My good friend Kit also gave me a get going smack. She said to me "Kandee, you've always known you were going to get the cancer, now you've got it, deal with it and get on with your life" - (my friends definately hold me accountable). OUCH!!

Before the start of my chemo, the oncology nurse had to come in and take some blood from me. She got down on her knees and prepared my food for the needle; I looked at her and said, "So, Dr. Yirinik, is he any good?" - His nurse responded with "Yes, I would trust him with my life." To that I replied - "I am."



I remember one time we went to Niagara Falls for a well-deserved get-away with the kids. I put on my wig (which resembled a dead cat) and strapped on my fake boobs. We went to a nice restaurant overlooking the falls for a nice dinner. I felt like the everyone in the restaurant knew that I was bald and sporting a set of falsies. I felt humiliated and never again wore that cat on my head.

After eight rounds of chemotherapy and six weeks of daily radiation, I was done. I often refer to the ending of my treatment as my "rebirth," as it took nine months to transform from the old person I would no longer ever be. The final week of radiation occurred near July 4th. I remember sitting on a bridge in Rochester, watching the fireworks explode. In my mind, I related the fireworks exploding to the radiation exploding my cancer. With every exploding light and flicker of a firework was an exploding demolition of anotherone of my cancer cells.

The following year, we took a much-needed family vacation and went to California. We flew into LAX and began driving south. The purple icicle plant was in full bloom as we drove on the freeways; it was beautiful. I said to Chuck, "Why is it we live where we do?" as back in Rochester, there was snow, mud and slush for another 6 weeks. That was when the seed was planted to contemplate a move West.

Chuck was ready, as he had been a carpenter and had to work in the Northeast weather. NY can be cold in the winter; negative 10-below is no stranger to our parts. Nick, who would be a Junior in High School, said "Why not?" Rachael would be a freshman and said the same. I was a bit hesitant, as I felt safe where I was. I had great friends who would/did do anything for me; I had a great medical team who saved my life. I was scared to jinx myself by leaving. You know the old saying... You don't know what you've got til it’s gone." I was afraid to willingly just give all that up.

But we did.. We decided to move and drive....

For the record, I still give the kids the birthday cards I bought for them 6 years ago. But I'm much happier to be able to do it in person. And cancer? Well cancer isn't so bad....