<![CDATA[Many Kind Regards - Jeanette Martinez]]>

<![CDATA[Many Kind Regards - Jeanette Martinez]]>Sun, 13 Jul 2025 19:24:08 -0700Weebly<![CDATA[Where Vanity Goes to Die]]>Mon, 07 Sep 2015 02:42:20 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/vanity-death

I stood there looking in the fogged up mirror, staring back at myself. Unhappy. The words floating around in my head are harsh. "You look like a prepubescent boy. Short hair definitely doesn't suit you." "Stupid cancer," I say loudly. As of late, this is how my shower routine ends.

I wasn't always this way. Looks weren't always this important. Unlike most people, I didn't flourish in high school, I didn't peak in college. In fact, I'm not sure I ever really discovered myself. I do, however, believe I was getting there. It's funny, people tell me, now, “it's just hair.” While I do agree, for me, it's much more than that.

I dyed my hair the most ridiculously bold red for the very first time in the summer of 2012. My then-best-friend said, "Red will really damage your hair!" To which I responded, "It's just hair! Live a little!!!" I felt more alive than ever. Like an entirely different woman. Confident, young, and fun. I felt like I was finally something more than just someone's wife and mom (Not that there's anything wrong with that). I was finally tapping into my own personality. It's interesting what a new hair color will do for your self-esteem. That same summer I got my first tattoo; a blue rose with a deep personal meaning.

He lowered the needle towards my skin and asked softly "Are you sure you're ready?" My hands felt sweaty and my voice broke slightly, but I held my resolve. "Yes, do it." I answered. "So why a blue rose?" He asked curiously. I looked around the room, smokey from cigarettes, lit by a bright fluorescent light. I saw our friends laughing, cracking jokes, oblivious to the inner battle I was fighting. "There are several reasons really, but they all tie in together." I didn't go into detail then, and I have seldom told anyone what the meaning was behind my blue tattoo.

One brisk October morning, I woke, my chest aching furiously. Hot pink hair sprawled across my pillow, beads of cold sweat on my forehead.

I have very few memories of my father calling me pretty or even telling me he loved me. Or my mother for that matter. I was raised never hearing it. So, it was not something I considered myself be. I struggled with confidence. My tattoo is for my grandfather of whom I have very fond memories. He told me often I was pretty, he said he'd always be there, and that I'd be the most beautiful bride when the day came. The day came but he wasn't there, at least not physically. He passed when I was just 8.

My tattoo represents me mentally training myself to believe I was beautiful, when I so rarely heard it. A blue rose is not a natural occurrence, and neither is having love for myself.

After that bold red hair, there were several others: plum, blue, teal, fuchsia, purple, green and pink. Every time someone would say, "Again? Your hair is just going to fall out one of these days!" Each time my response was, "And if it does, it'll grow. It's just hair." I changed it obsessively, color after color, always trying to find the right shade. Searching for the one that made me feel "Beautiful". The one that would convince me.

Then, one brisk October morning, I woke, my chest aching furiously. Hot pink hair sprawled across my pillow, beads of cold sweat on my forehead.

Cancer.

My era of self discovery came to a screeching halt. After 3 chemo sessions, I took my husband’s clippers and told him I was ready. "Can you do it for me? Do you mind?" I bent my head over the garbage can, not awaiting a response. "Yeah, of course. Are you sure?" "Yes, it's just hair. Right?" I said. "Yes baby, just another wild hairstyle," he assured me. Tears streamed down my face and into the garbage with my hair, with my vanity. With the woman I used to be. The woman I was only just beginning to know and love.

Lately, I've been dreaming. Of having long pink hair. Of being beautiful. It's a new chapter in my life, but it feels a lot like I'm reading the same one from years ago. My thoughts keep jumping back to "If I had my hair, maybe I could just be myself again. Everything might just possibly go back to normal." I just don't know what normal is. Every day I consider taking bleach to it, finding another exotic color and masking my pain.

It just seems pointless to try. It's hard trying to heal emotionally from a disease that affected you physically. Especially when every glance in the mirror reminds you of it. It's a challenge I now face. Yes, I survived. Yes, I know how selfish and ungrateful I sound; upset about my hair when I've got life! Now, I'm convinced it wasn't just hair.

"Vanity is becoming a nuisance, I can see why women give it up, eventually. But I'm not ready for that yet."~Margaret Atwood

Many Kind Regards,
Jeanette

Erin knows what it's like to lose a loved one to cancer. Read her story here.

original image source: Martinez Private Collection

]]><![CDATA[I Don't Need Your Pity Play Date]]>Thu, 20 Aug 2015 18:09:18 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/i-dont-need-your-pity-play-date

I have come to the realization that I'm completely alone. Not so much physically, but emotionally. Does that make sense? I felt like this often growing up. Outnumbered is the word that comes to mind. My parents had each other, as did my three brothers. Me? I was the only daughter. I always felt out of place. Odd man (or should I say, girl?) out.

It's always been hard for me to make friends. To this day, I have few that I really keep up with. A select few who know my deepest, darkest fears. As it usually goes when it comes to military spouses, however, I eventually have to leave them all behind. Still, out of sight doesn't mean out of mind - and these days I really miss them.

Lately, I've been depressed. My husband can see it, I can feel it, and we're both pretty tired of it, especially since most days I'm a moody mess. I'm at a point in my life where I am finally healthy and thriving, medically speaking. So, why don't I feel relief? I should be thrilled, but I'm not. I mean, it's not everyday you beat cancer! It just doesn't quite feel like an accomplishment yet.

My emotions really got the best of me a few days ago; I cried, pouted, and told my husband how crazy I felt, but that maybe all I needed was a break. Almost instantly I thought, "How selfish of you, Jeanette. These kids are your life, you love and cherish them. You shouldn't need a break!" Still, there I was at the kitchen table, distraught and confused at my own emotions. Staring, with eyes burning at my husband, who was busy making plans to fish, jealous at his unwavering dedication to the sport (if you can call it that), and the fact that he had friends to share it with.

That was when he decided to set me up on a play date. It might sound extremely inappropriate, except it's not - it's pathetic."This is what we'll do," he said, "I'll call my friend and see what his wife is doing this weekend. You and her can hang out while him and I take the kids fishing."

It’s always the same - half the time, it's my first time meeting a person and they already know more about my life than I'm comfortable sharing

How could I tell him no? As much as I like her and I want a friend, how could I explain that I'm not ready? See, in my mind, all I imagined happening was what happens with almost every other person I encounter. She’d ask how I'm doing. She’d ask what's next. Am I in remission? She’d tell me how hard it must have been, how brave I am, and then try extremely hard to sympathize. It’s always the same - half the time, it's my first time meeting a person and they already know more about my life than I'm comfortable sharing, let alone discussing.

What I really want is to just talk about Grey’s Anatomy and McDreamy's sudden drop from the show. My ideal "friend date" is a movie night in with a glass of wine, cheesecake and popcorn (because who says you can't pair them?), laughter that brings tears to my eyes, good food and great company, my family and hers. Why can’t I just have a friend I’m already comfortable with?

It would help if I'd been invited and my husband hadn't set me up. I'm the type of person who strongly dislikes invading someone’s space, maybe because I need my own space. Also, I’m extremely awkward. I don't do well in most social situations. He can't just drop me somewhere and go. I can't do it alone. Not right now.

While I want friends, I don't want someone to be a friend because they feel sorry for me. Would it be horrible if right now I just said, "I honestly don't want friends, I'm simply not ready?" I just want some time to pick up the pieces of my broken puzzle and put it back together. Patiently. I don't want to feel pressure or stress. New friendships can be hard work and I'm not sure I want anyone to get to know THIS version of me. Most days, I don't even want to leave the house. Maybe I just want to wallow.

Yes, I know it sounds absurd because I was the one complaining, so maybe I don't quite know what I want. I just know I need to figure it out on my own. Play dates won't help, really. Still, I appreciate his trying - It's nice to know I have his support.

I just need everyone to give me a moment.

Many Kind Regards,
Jei

Emotional distress is often invisible to outsiders. Read about other invisible beasts here.

Original image credit: Nelson L. Flickr

]]><![CDATA[Confessions of a Cancer Patient]]>Tue, 12 May 2015 00:05:01 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/confessions-of-a-cancer-patient

I'm awake, for maybe the fifth or sixth time tonight. Like other nights, it's a cold sweat that wakes me. I rise up and stare sleepily at the light that shines through my blinds. My body aches, there is no comfortable position to sleep in. I rise slowly so I don't wake him, and I hear a soft snore that tells me he's deep in a dream. The weight of my own body almost feels like too much and balance takes real effort. It's a long walk to our restroom only about 6 feet away. I dampen a cloth and moisten my face and my chest. Sore still both from accessing the port and a deeper pain that I can't shake.

I haven't slept a full night in I don't know how long. In the mirror, I see the reflection of a woman I still don't recognize. Short fuzzy hair, darkened nails and a round face, moon face they call it; they, the others, like me. I don't like this woman. I feel a pit in my stomach, a feeling that's familiar. A cross between angry and sad, my eyes water. It's time to make my way back.

The more I sleep, the less I have to think. As I lay back down, I hope the next interval comes further out. Maybe I'll sleep until I have to get up with the kids, but it's unlikely. I stare up at the ceiling wishing I could cry. I know if I allow myself to start, it could be hard to stop.

The silence is deafening, I lay waiting and the hours pass.

This happens almost nightly, sleep escapes me and I just lay here. I watch him sleep and sometimes catch a giggle. I stare and watch his face as it changes from serious, to a smile and then fades away as quickly as it came. I lay there and wonder what he dreams of so vividly, and I hope it's of our son (or daughter) in heaven. My heart aches more now, so I imagine something different. A dream where he is a popular Star Wars character, now I giggle.

To be honest, it could be much worse. I'm already expecting good news from a future scan. In fact, yesterday might have been my last chemotherapy session. I feel a sense of deep guilt at that realization, so many fight for so long and here I am, possibly done. I don't know if I'm ready for what's next, this "New Normal" the cancer community talks about. What I do know, is it's in Gods hands now. So, I leave it up to him."

Read more from Jeanette

]]><![CDATA[Life or Death?]]>Mon, 12 Jan 2015 15:45:30 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/life-or-death

Article by: Jeanette Martinez
Original Photo Credit: Flickr

I couldn't even bring myself to lift the pen, to open a notepad or to even consider writing. I know this feeling all too well. I feel like I have in the past: a lack of interest, motivation, or maybe inspiration. It hasn’t just affected my body now, this cancer has affected my mind— correction, this chemo, in essence a poison.

Then, I read an article about a girl, 17, refusing to undergo chemotherapy for the very same type of Cancer I am myself afflicted with. In the article, the writer notes the mother’s support for her daughter through the girls removal from the home, court proceedings and the inevitable loss, if the girl is successful.

“My daughter’s refusing chemo because of the poison toxins that she does not want in her body... this is her human right… to not put poison in her body,” said Jackie Fortin, her mother, in a statement to press. “Her rights have been taken away; she has been forced to put chemo in her body right now as we speak.”

I sat in awe reading this, shocked that someone so young could refuse life. Especially when the success rate in treating Hodgkins is so high. What would I do if I was that parent?

If I raised my daughter to feel independent, empowered and opinionated, then one day she mirrored my diagnosis? What if she chose death? Could I, having supported her through her infancy, childhood and youth, continue to do so under these circumstances? And if my answer was no, could I face her?

There is so much more to this story than I’m sure any of us, even I, could understand. The bond between mother and daughter can be one that stands firm even in the face of death. Upon reading an interview and seeing the mother’s face it is evident there is pain. This mother proving her love and loyalty to her child at such a high price, is heartbreaking. Watching news reports and social media updates is disheartening, seeing the public’s comments much like gauging my eyes out. For me, because I sit here in her shoes, having once also said that in my youth but only having to face it as an adult. A parent. The other side of the coin, one where I refuse to leave behind my own children.

Treatment, however “easy” the Cancer may be… is not easy. Chemo for this is just as potent as it is for any other. With just as many long term side effects. So, while I can not answer even my own questions, I do know that I will reserve judgement because its not just black and white. Simply because there are days I can't sleep through the night, mornings I can't stand to smell…ANYTHING, and times when I struggle to formulate sentences. Today, after treatment and since my pain medications have worn off, I feel a sense of clarity, one I refuse to take for granted.

So I am here, sharing my thoughts before I attempt once more to sleep, in the fetal position so my body aches less and warms easier. One last thing… “If you do not know, shhhhh.”

]]><![CDATA[Ten Steps to Self Love]]>Thu, 01 Jan 2015 08:03:32 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/ten-steps-to-self-love

We all have moments of self doubt and insecurity. If you don’t, congratulations.

Still, I don’t believe you…

Whether it’s pertaining to appearance or personal success, I like to believe I am not alone. With that in mind, I share with you (Dun dun dun…) 10 things you can do to boost your self confidence!

1.   Primp.
Maybe you had a long night or you’re just not in the mood but this step is VITAL to feeling good! Take a long relaxing shower; shave and heck even apply some makeup! I do this even if I have nowhere to go, it just makes me feel pretty!

2.   Change Your Mental YOU.
No, not like fantasize that you’re Salma Hayek or some other Hollywood Starlet. What I mean is make a mental list of all the things you love about yourself. I like my eyes, my voice and the way my laughter carries through the room (I get it from my mother). It sounds conceited and self absorbed but there is that saying “You need to learn to love yourself before you love another.” I’m partial to it, mainly because I believe we’re always learning to love and sometimes loving another can help the process.

3.   Think Positive!
Good things happen, great things are coming to you!!! Always keep in mind that though things may not be going the way you planned, it doesn't mean things are necessarily bad. Take pleasure in learning new lessons when plans do change. Pretty soon, positive thoughts will become second nature.

4.   One Good Deed.
One good deed a day will keep the doctor away! Okay, maybe not… But it will make you smile. With this step not only are you improving how YOU feel but how someone else feels. It can be as simple as helping an old man pick out pizza in the freezer aisle (after which you'll explain to your toddler why it’s okay for you to talk to strangers) or as complex as volunteering hours at an organization of your liking. Never underestimate the feel good feelings you get from helping others.

5.   Live By Your Principles.
Get to know what makes you tick, what your values are and where your boundaries lay. It’s much easier to feel good about yourself when you’re familiar with what you can handle. It also helps to understand what you are willing to take from others.

6.   Take a Long Walk.
Once around the block with a water bottle and plenty of sun block! A little bit of exercise can go a long way. There’s something about being physically healthy that just makes people feel marvelous! Can’t get out? Try some light yoga or meditation. Finding a quiet space to stretch out and clear your mind can truly work wonders!

7.   Finish Something.
Everyone has that one task that is always teasing us. Tackle it today!!! You can do it, give yourself a reasonable amount of time until completion and you're good to go. If you are like me and struggle with motivation, set a timer! The feeling you get when you can scratch it off your imaginary to-do list IS nothing short of amazing!

8.   Change a Habit.
It doesn’t have to be a big change like quitting smoking (although recommended). For now, start small. That thing you keep saying would really improve functionality, DO IT! It might be list making or marking a calendar to help keep track of bills. The point is it should help your life and household run smoother!

9.   SMILE.
Watched “Annie” lately?
“Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly
They stand out a mile --
But Brother,
You're never fully dressed
Without a smile!”
Sound advice.

10.   Do Something You Love.
Last but not least, when all else fails and your day’s been less than pleasant or you just don’t feel good. Do something you haven’t done in a long time, like go roller skating, bowling or even find an arcade! Give yourself a day of fun and actually enjoy it.

You can start off with one or two of these small tasks a day, like smiling or performing a good deed. You’ll see that as time progresses some of these may become second nature and then who knows, you might find something new, something entirely you that makes you feel extraordinary. When you do, don’t forget to share it. The world could use more reasons to feel joy and we can all use a boost of self confidence.

Many Kind Regards,
Jeanette

While learning to love yourself is amazing, sometimes you just don't want to love parts of you. Editor-in-Chief, Katie, shows why that's okay, too.

]]><![CDATA[I Don’t Want To Inspire You]]>Thu, 04 Dec 2014 10:34:49 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/i-dont-want-to-inspire-you

Someone told me a few nights ago, that I was an inspiration. That I was a great example for other women, a warrior. Still, last time I checked, I’m not a recipient for the Nobel Peace Prize. I am just me. I have cancer.

I don’t want to be an inspiration. I just want to live.

Cancer is a disease that I have no choice but to fight. Giving up is not an option (although already there have been moments I’ve considered it). I have children whose weddings I plan to someday attend. I’ve already sacrificed so much to ensure survival that quitting is not an option. Treatment is just as hard as it is for any other type of cancer and there will be days I want to cry, pout, and scream. I don’t want to have that responsibility looming over me, to have to put on a brave face for those around me.

I’m just an unlucky lady who got sick. I’m doing what I can to stick around for a while longer because leaving an unfinished life is not something I want to do.

I haven’t changed at all from the high school drop-out that I was a month ago. I have yet to accomplish anything great. All I am doing is exactly what any of you would do in my shoes, see a doctor, get treatment and live. Wouldn’t you?

It’s sweet and very kind but trust me there is nothing heroic about it.

These days, I can’t even sleep.

I can’t stop thinking of “him”. I guess it’s the price I’ve got to pay for the decisions that I’ve made. My heart aches, there’s nights when I can’t even close my eyes without picturing what could’ve been. I wonder what other women in this situation would say, or do.

Since receiving my Hodgkins Lymphoma diagnosis I’ve undergone no treatment yet. None but the DNC that ended a life before it could even be started. I knew it would be hard but I couldn’t fathom this.

I’m sitting here bright and early because, like yesterday, sleep escapes me. I was up at 1am, 3am and again at 5am, before I finally decided to just stop trying. I’m watching silently now as my daughter and son both rush to get ready for school and I wonder, had I been sick 9 or 5 years ago, if I’d have made the same decision. I try to picture what my life would be like without one or the other, I can’t. Just like I’m having trouble picturing life now after this, except now I have no choice.

I feel guilty for robbing someone of a future. I’m sad at a loss that I brought upon myself and I’m angry that I had to make this call.

Although ultimately I know I made the right decision for my health, I can’t say I’m happy with it. I guess for now all I can do is try to move forward. I’ve scheduled surgery and soon I’ll be receiving chemo treatment. I know it won’t be easy but I’ll get through it. Then again, if for some reason I don’t, I know someone will be up there waiting for me.

I have your brother and sister after all who still need me here… and your dad, who may be lost without me.

I never wanted to be an inspiration. I just wanted to live. I just wanted to be your mom.

Many Kind Regards,
Jeanette

She might not think she's an inspiration, but her strength and honesty inspire us all. Read Jeanette's cancer confessions here.

original photo credit: Guian Bolisay Flickr

]]><![CDATA[A Date Which Will Live In Infamy]]>Wed, 03 Dec 2014 23:09:44 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/a-date-which-will-live-in-infamy

December 7th 1941, is a day burned into our minds, whose embers will never vanquish. It’s not a “Hallmark” holiday, we don’t give or receive gifts and you won't get the day off work. On this day, 73 years ago one of the most infamous attacks in American history occurred. 2,403 Americans were killed and 1,178 wounded when, at 7:48 am Hawaiian time, Pearl Harbor was attacked by 353 Japanese fighter planes, bombers, and torpedo planes in two waves, launched from six aircraft carriers. All eight U.S. Navy ships were damaged, half were completely sunk, with crew members still aboard. So much life was lost that day, which brought the United States totally into World War II.

It is a day that would go down in our history books, a day that we’d share with our kids, and our kids with their kids. A day that continues to inspire many brave men and women to serve our country; that many years later still brings sadness and tears to many, but also brings hope.

Hope in the unity of a country in even the worst of times.

Faith that as Americans we can come together and fight to protect our way of life, our freedoms and our families.

That in times like these, the color of your skin and the origin of your blood matter not.

That we can each fight, hand in hand, help and heal each other.

A reminder that sometimes the worst events in history can bring out the absolute best in people. From these times emerge the most unexpected qualities in people, the most amazing actions of humanity and kindness and heroes.

Today, I will think of those brave people, all gone too soon, leaving behind families and friends. Paying the ultimate price for the security of our nation. I will light a candle, I will say a prayer and I will share this story with my children. At bedtime, when the lights are low and my sweet children are sleepily dreaming I will give thanks. For those who I’ll never personally know, for those whom I do, for all who took the torch to fight, today. To guard the same rights and continue to protect our land no matter the cost, to those who are willing to make the ultimate sacrifice.

And I’ll pray they never have to.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt, December 8, 1941:

Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.

The United States was at peace with that nation, and, at the solicitation of Japan, was still in conversation with its government and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the Pacific. Indeed, one hour after Japanese air squadrons had commenced bombing in the American island of Oahu, the Japanese ambassador to the United States and his colleague delivered to our secretary of state a formal reply to a recent American message. While this reply stated that it seemed useless to continue the existing diplomatic negotiations, it contained no threat or hint of war or armed attack.

It will be recorded that the distance of Hawaii from Japan makes it obvious that the attack was deliberately planned many days or even weeks ago. During the intervening time the Japanese government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace.

The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu.

Yesterday the Japanese government also launched as attack against Malaya.

Last night Japanese forces attacked Hong Kong.

Last night Japanese forces attacked Guam.

Last night Japanese forces attacked the Philippine Islands.

Last night Japanese forces attacked Wake Island.

And this morning the Japanese attacked Midway Island.

Japan has, therefore, undertaken a surprise offensive extending throughout the Pacific area. The facts of yesterday and today speak for themselves. The people of the United States have already formed their opinions and well understand the implications to the very life and safety of our nation.

As commander in chief of the Army and Navy I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. But always will our whole nation remember the character of the onslaught against us. . .

Source: Courtesy of the Franklin D. Roosevelt Library, Hyde Park, New York.

]]><![CDATA[That Post Gave Me Cancer]]>Sun, 23 Nov 2014 04:29:26 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/that-post-gave-me-cancer

Facebook makes me angry. No. PEOPLE on Facebook make me angry.

How on earth do others not see how ridiculous they are when engaging? You have a point to get across and, dammit, you KNOW you are right! So, naturally here’s what you do: you argue, you hit *CAPS LOCK* and have it out with whoever you happen to disagree with on that day. Because how else would you prove you're right? I suppose you could share some cold hard facts to back your opinion, but WHY would you if you KNOW you're right?

ADULTS. SCARE. ME.

Sometimes, I want to crawl under under a rock and seek cover. I’ve seen so many Facebook discussions recently, with topics ranging from politics to illness. It was, as a matter of fact, a support group for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma that triggered this here article. A scared and fragile woman with a newly diagnosed illness was expressing anxiety over a bone marrow biopsy and the pain that it’s rumored to cause. Having not yet undergone this procedure, I decided to read the comments for some insight of my own.

People amaze me.

In a group where people are supposed to give support, someone has just called another “ignorant.” Yeah. It’s like that, so here I am reading this thread as it’s escalated from sharing experiences to virtually verbally assaulting one another and I can’t help but feel irritated and even somewhat amused. What’s worse is that the person accusing the other of being ignorant and uneducated about their own disease has just made a statement saying “There is no blood in bone marrow.”

Yet, blood is produced in your bone marrow.

“Hodgkin’s Lymphoma is not a blood cancer,” she adds. At this point, I just want to slap myself hard enough to erase any recollection of this thread’s contents.

It’s a cancer that originates in the blood! It is not Leukemia, but it is a type of blood cancer that targets the lymphatic system.

I would strongly advise that no matter what the subject, when you intend on striking up an argument, you are fully informed and educated on the topic. Otherwise, you just end up looking silly.

Google. Seriously, folks.

All of this ridiculous Facebook arguing put me in quite a snarky mood and I almost, ALMOST replied to one of those threads with a terrible, horrible cancer joke. “This post gave me cancer!” I mean, I can do that, right? Joke about my cancer?

Sigh.

But I didn’t. I should have, just to watch someone reply:

“You can’t get cancer from a Facebook post.”

*Face palm*

Many Kind Regards,
Jeanette

Jeanette isn't the only person who finds Facebook irritating lately. Read about some things that bother Kim here.

]]><![CDATA[The Best Kind Of Cancer ]]>Wed, 12 Nov 2014 15:46:34 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/the-best-kind-of-cancer

At twenty-nine, this was unexpected. Although, I should add, that at any age, this would have been unexpected.

“You’re scans came back abnormal. We believe you have what’s called Hodgkin’s Lymphoma…”

She says it so matter-of-factly, I have to do a double take “what?”

“Abnormal.”

Still, there is that glimmer of hope in the way she says, “we believe.”

Believe. Unconfirmed. Not set in stone. Of course they’ll have to perform a biopsy to verify but it could always be negative…

Couldn’t it?

I begin to wonder what I’ve done wrong. Have I dyed my hair too much? My mom did always tell me to stop. Maybe it was that I didn’t change the filter in my Brita pitcher on time. Or maybe I just have bad Karma. Will the biopsy hurt? Will I be awake? Am I dying?

So. Many. Questions.

I feel my chest tighten and breathing becoming labored. A symptom. The reason I’m here, a tumor in my chest, growing as we speak. I won’t see the images until three days later but I know it’s large and growing quickly.

Nothing can calm my nerves. I am admitted to the Oncology department, where an IV is placed and they prepare me for a biopsy the next day. Luckily, I hadn’t yet eaten. It is now about 4 o’clock and after arriving at around 10, hunger is starting to creep in. Still, this means I could do the biopsy without waiting. For me that is best, I want results. Negative ones.

A day or two later, I receive news that it is most definitely Hodgkin’s Lymphoma although the type and stage are still undetermined. With this, my nightmare becomes reality. Another biopsy must be done and a port must be put in place but first there’s one more thing…

“You’re two weeks pregnant…” Her voice trails off and with that, I cry.

Today, I sit on my couch still in shock. I suppose, I am dreading the days to come. Treatment is at a standstill as referrals go through for surgeries, biopsies and various other procedures.

I have a dull pain in my chest, a constant reminder of the fight I face. A sickness to remind me of the weight that my decisions from here on out carry and how they affect others and sadly an anger that is incomparable to anything I’ve ever felt.

I am normally a cheerful, positive person... but it’s now that others expect it the most that I feel it the least. I cannot grant them that. This, the “best type of Cancer to have” (according to everyone) is driving me to question everything. My morals, my values, my own strength and worse:

My God.

I’ve only just begun and some days, I already want to quit.

If this Cancer is supposed to be so easy to beat, why does it feel so hard?

This is only part of my story. Today, it only includes Cancer. I don’t know when exactly it will end or how just yet. I do know, I will come out victorious.

Somehow.

Photo Credit: Flickr

]]><![CDATA[Meghan Trainor Makes Me Cry]]>Thu, 23 Oct 2014 09:05:22 GMThttp://www.manykindregards.com/jeanette-martinez/meghan-trainor-makes-me-cry

I wasn’t thin growing up, I was always awkwardly taller than most of my classmates and people often pointed this out. My dad had a friend that called me “Jessie, like that “Saved by the Bell” girl. Get it? Because you’re tall!?” I got it. It was probably meant in good fun but I was 13 and pretty self-conscious so I didn’t appreciate the banter. Sometimes, I think back to how sad I was then and where that sadness stemmed from. I remember once telling my mom I was depressed. She said, “Depressed? What do you have to be depressed about?” I felt so unvalidated. For the better part of my youth I recall wanting to be different. I even went through a “New Age” phase. You definitely cannot change the color of your eyes with spells and you can't get your crush to love you. One day, coming home from school, my mom took a short pause before exiting the car. She looked over at me, reached across the center console and pinched my belly, then said, “You’re gaining weight.” I didn't even have a chance to respond, within seconds she was out of the car.

This is what our society has come to. I can’t watch television without an infomercial coming on the screen, one that promises beautiful skin, long healthy hair and tight abs. They won't outright tell you that you’re ugly, but you aren't, however, pretty enough. You aren't “Fat” but you could stand to lose a few pounds, if not you're classified as “unhealthy.” My father told me once, I needed to eat better- it’s not right that at 23 I had blood pressure problems. It was, and is, hereditary. I worked out 5 days a week for two hours then and looked my best since my kids were born. I felt great and then, just like that, I didn’t. It’s not always malicious, I understand that. I simply don't remember my dad ever telling me I was pretty as a child, as a matter of fact, the first time he said it I cried. It was last year, he commented on a picture of myself, that I shared on my social media page. I read it in texts.

A few days ago, I was out with my husband and kids when my phone pinged me. “_____ has posted a link on your page” it was from my mother. I opened it to a message that read that no matter what, she loved me always. The link was to the catchy new tune by Meghan Trainor “All About That Bass.” I’m not joking when I say I bawled. See, I know my parents love me, growing up I knew it. I also knew I was a difficult kid and thought that it was a parents job to love their kids. I often told myself, “They have to love you but do they LIKE you?” I don’t know if I knew that answer. I’d like to say that they did; it was my decisions they didn't approve of. Don’t get me wrong; They're great parents, my mom and I shared a still inseparable bond. These days I know she loves me, she misses me and she’s my greatest friend. I just want to know why it matters.

Why does it matter if you have a rounder belly than most? If you’re kind and caring, who cares if you wear a size 16? When did it become okay to decide what image was acceptable for others? We are all individuals, are we not? We think for ourselves, do we not? We each fight our own battles with self-acceptance. I am teaching my daughter that she’s beautiful, that it doesn’t matter if that tooth hasn't come in yet. SMILE! “You're beautiful! Yes, you're the tallest in your class, it doesn't matter. SMILE!” It’s not just her either, my son as well. Everyday my husband and I tell our kids not only that we love them but we say “Ben, you are SO handsome!” or “Kailie, you are truly beautiful.” I NEVER want my daughter or son to wonder. To hear it some day in their 20’s and stare at their admirer in disbelief. I want my children to know, so we will set that example. People will treat you well because thats what you deserve, to be respected. To be LOVED for who you are.

It starts with us after all, doesn't it? We DO set the standard for what they tolerate as adults. We want tomorrow’s youth to be a better generation. We want to be green and environmentally conscious but what about teaching them to love and respect themselves. To appreciate others, to accept them for what they have to offer in ways of values and not for the way they look. A very dear friend of mine was told by her still boyfriend that when he broke up with her on a previous occasion, it was because she was “fat”. He then added its okay though, he’s over it now. When did that become okay? Now she's confused about her feelings- not about him, but herself? People, this cannot be our LEGACY. This must not be what we leave behind. I’m changing this for my children.

Will you do the same?

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