Open

M told me an idea she had heard months ago. In a sermon. We are all trying to self improve, memorizing verses or adding things to do daily. This idea was great. Do-able. Fits in perfectly with our already filled up lives. And resonates to that part of me craving simplicity.

Think of one word. Have it be your word for a day, week, month.. how ever long you wish. Focus on it, chew on it, bring it to your thoughts.

There's a website, oneword.org, talking about this. You might get more info, or even a different spin if you go there. But I'm telling you what I thought I heard. (There's my story, your story, and the truth.)

Anyway, my word is OPEN. Open to new, to healthy, to people. Open to love and light and sunshine and kindness. Open hearted to love others. Open minded to adventures, trying new things. Open calendared to not being booked up each day, each hour. Open to the spirit moving me. Open to God's whisper. Open to be filled with joy.

Right away I got an adventure. I went to www.oneword.org, except I first tried www.oneword.com . HOW COOL! It is a website where they give you one word, you have 60 seconds to type on it. Then you get to see what others have done. Word changes every day. SO COOL..

Then I went to the correct website. Didn't do much for me. But being OPEN does.  In this spirit, I ordered two new fruits I have never purchased before from my favorite online home delivery food coop in Orlando - a fuyu persimmon and a star fruit. Just made persimmon-date-walnut bars with lemon glaze. Wow, this being OPEN idea is delicious...

Gotta have fun guys. Everyday is a potential Best Day of my Life!

Twitter

What is Complaining?

I don't have the cosmic answer, sorry. But before you read further, think about it. What is complaining? Bubble up in your mind a complain you have, currently or past. Where did it come from? Why was it bothering you? Did it last long? Remember your emotions. Remember your atmosphere. How did you handle it? Just think on it, with the benefit of time and distance. 

A sideways drift - Remember Saturday Night Live, the skit on the family called The Whiners? I'm Mrs. Whiner. I don't like you. I don't like me. I'm miserable. These are my kids, they're miserable too.... all said in a nasally obnoxious voice. Yes, that's overboard. But funny, nevertheless.

Complaining is NOT recognizing something that needs fixing, and going about getting it fixed... Just saying..

Okay, I'm reading about Moses and the Israelites leaving Egypt, in the wilderness, entering the Promised Land. You talk about a bunch of whiners. God rescues them, there are miracles left and right (plagues in Egypt, Red Sea parting, water from rock, manna from heaven, etc). The leaving Egypt part is in Exodus. Complaining starts there, but really picks up in Numbers. Reading the Old Testament is more action and emotion filled than a modern Romance novel. Try it.

So what causes complaining? Something didn't happen the way you wanted it to. Say I am complaining that I don't have enough time in the day to get through my to-do list. So is it the not happening I am pissed at, or the expectation of my envisioned reality. In this complaint, was the reason for my complaint that I really don't have enough time in my day, or that my to-do list was too long. When I am un-emotional, well rested, sitting here feeling God's grace around me like a soft wrap... I can see my list was too long.

Now, I want to tell you. Long ago I stopped complaining that I was too busy. Years ago. Complaining about busy-ness is, for me, an ego thing. "OH I am so important and have so much I want to accomplish that I, more so than you, have to rush through my days and cram event after event into each hour. I am so proud that I have too much to do, and I want you listener to realize that my busy-ness forgives my rudeness or my not paying attention to the quietness things. Such as emotions in your voice or little tears in your soul. I'm above all that. "

The choice to be too busy is your own choice. And in my mind, we don't have permission to complain about situations I could change any time I want.  Okay, I'll climb down off that soap box.

Another example, one that hits me right between the eyes this week. I have been complaining that I am not back to healthy and energetic yet. It's been nine months since surgeries/chemo/radiation finished. I should be all better now! Three weeks ago, in doc's office for cellulitis in left arm, that led to secondary fungal and bacterial infection in my female parts. I was pissed. Boy did I complain!

I think the outburst of frustration (and I did sob in the OB GYN office, poor them) was emotionally healthy. But then, after a few days of my pity party of one, I needed to stop. It moved from honest outpouring of frustration to wallowing in the mire. Know what I mean?

While I was in the mire, I intellectually knew I was damn lucky to have heard I had a secondary infection instead of another kind of cancer. And also damn lucky the cellulitis responded beautifully to the intense antibiotic. There was just some sort of bridge washed out between my brain and my heart.

Analyzing my complaining attitude, first thing that hits me is I was complaining because my reality wasn't what I had envisioned.

My plan was for me to be back to health by now. Even better than two years ago. Maybe I would become a marathon runner? Okay, maybe a 5K participant? And I would be so wise and spirit-filled that I would never ever be frustrated or sad. I would have a crystal clear connection to God's wisdom and peace, gained from my year of cancer.

Oh yeah. I was envisioning myself as a combination of Mother Teresa and Serena Williams.

Do I need to even tell you, that is SO UNREALISTIC? What was I thinking?

Talking w S about this, there is a fine line between passively accepting the situations of my life, and becoming complacent leading to not moving forward with my life. That's the part about "it is what it is" that really gets some people fired up. Acceptance needs to be balanced with hope for the future. And hope for the future is the very definition of faith.

What I have come to realize, faith is knowing the future is full of sunshine. And faith is also knowing that the present is just as sunny. Sometimes I just can't see the sun at the moment.

The most important question you'll ever ask is whether the Universe is a friendly place.
Albert Einstein 

How are we able to see the sun on our cloudy days. That's where thankfulness comes in.

Cultivate an attitude of thankfulness.You cannot be thankful and grouchy at the same time. Thing about that...

Back to complaining. Lord, may I recognize whenever I complain. To other people out loud or to my self in my thoughts. And when I see that complaining, may I turn to it, recognize it, and cover it with the faith that You are in control of my life.. the entirety of it. Therefore, even though I might not see it at the moment, there is light and peace and energy and love that is fully capable of transforming my complaint into joy. All I have to do is ask you. So I ask you. Turn this sadness in my heart into joy. Help me see with your eyes. Help me fall in love with you all over again today. Right now. Thank you.

Quantity time and Variety time

Seven  of us from book lunch met at Palmano's/ Park Plaza Gardens yesterday - HOW FUN! I wrote an email this morning:

As I was at the ER until 2 AM the night before (Corey now has 8 stitches in his forehead, basketball injury, no big deal), and I came right from my 3 monthly checkup at oncologist to wine, I will tell you seven that it was so wonderful to see you all. I draw so much energy from you all. The conversation was fun. You take me outside myself, allow me to connect with your lives. I thrive on this!

My top ten from the two hours:
1. beach vacation group... what an idea
2. www.shutterfly.com (online photo calendar maker for Christmas)
3. Memoirs of a Geisha, Ziyi Zhang ( no his is not the book for October, I KNOW some of you reading this went -WHAT?!?)
4. mother of the bride dress for next month, no big whoop, she looks GREAT in everything
5. mother of the groom dress for next summer, no big whoop, see #4
6. Fearrington Culinary School, Chapel Hill life
7. bartending school, hired an agent
8. going on tour, cutting an album
9. RV to football games, someone else five football games, and me watching football on tv
10. ordering a half glass of wine?

Funny, this was just mentioned yesterday in one of the daily email missives I receive, by Jim Denison. Community/ relationships / Facebook.  Here's part of it at the end of my email. I mentioned this yesterday at WINE. And of course we went further. I enjoy Facebook and Emails. They are great tools, just like vacuum cleaners are tools. They are social network tools.  They are useful. In my mind, they should not replace face to face interactions. They are great to augment relationships. But without face to face time, we have shallow relationships. J brought up that face to face includes emotions, online doesn't have as much emotion.

Yet another insight as to why Booklunch is so important to me.

See you in October, unless a spark of spontaneity flares between now and then?!?!?

Love ya, sara
============

Why is Facebook changing?

Facebook's transforming platform  is a fascinating window into the soul of our culture.  First a disclaimer: natives in the jungles of Borneo know more about social networking than me.  The youngest members of our team do most of the posting and maintenance of our Facebook page.  My interest this morning centers on this question: why is the largest social networking site in the world changing its platform so significantly?

We'll soon see "Timeline,"  a profile that will encourage us to post content predating our time on the social network.  My entire life would appear in chronological order, telling my story to the world.  We'll also be able to add apps that publish content automatically to these timelines.  In this way others will know what we're reading, watching, or listening to.

Here's my question: why would anyone care?  I prefer classical music, while Janet knows every word on the Doobie Brothers' Greatest Hits album.  Does this information advance humanity?  We're fighting in Afghanistan while struggling with global economic challenges --my opinion of Kung Fu Panda 2 seems somewhat irrelevant.

Why are social media such a dominant force in our lives today?  I think it's because we feel so detached and fragmented.  We've never been busier or more stressed.  Mother Teresa called loneliness "the leprosy of the Western world." Anything that makes us feel attached to others will help meet our deep need for community.

 Our need to connect with others is part of our God-given nature.

So, dear reader, I am not anti-Facebook or anti-blog. Or anti-books. There is immense power in time spent with ideas.

I am pro-face time. Which is time spent face to face with someone. It can be at a party, or meeting. But to grow, we all need a balance of nutrition. It also has to include time spent together over a cup of coffee, exercising, or just sitting there quiet looking at the water. Not quality time, but quantity and variety time.

That's what I think.

His timing is perfect.

A friend gave me a book on setting goals. A workbook really, with space for me to set 4 goals, and write down every day for 4 months how I do towards them. Well, I haven't read it carefully yet. I think this is what it is.

You start listing 50 goals, the brainstorming technique. So I have been thinking of goals to try on.

Loose weight. I know that is the one all women seem to want, but I really need to. Gained 35 pounds in last 2 years. It will come off.

Get healthy. This means exercising, building up stamina.

Build community. Maybe this is more a strength of mine, not a goal?

Be still, spending time with God.

Put more fun in each day. Do fun things. Comedy movies, books. Laugh with friends.

Be adventurous. Do new things. Try new things.

Do things I want to do, not that I think I should do. I do not mean shirking responsibility. I mean don't say yes to a social event because I think I should. Do what I want to do.

The heart of these things is being pro-active for my physical and spiritual health. Treating myself as inherently valuable. Just be patient, listen to what works for me. It's a balance. So then I can be of service to others.

I have all sorts of ideas, but I don't know if others will like them? A birthday lunch group of women who celebrate each others' birthdays. An adventure group that does something new each Friday, like bowling, Morse Museum, hike. A traveler's group, that spends a half day a month being a tourist right here in Central Florida. A movie group, meeting at my house Friday afternoon to watch chick flicks. A weekend at an Author's convention. Or a writing weekend somewhere to write our family history in short stories. Weekend yoga retreat? Why not?

I have had to cancel two fun getaways this month because of health. I've been trying.

Need to trust that His timing is perfect. Because it is...

Complaining

Sometimes I see so clearly.
Sometimes it's all foggy.

Well, since I am not in control (He is), there must be some reason for this? Some cause, and maybe some result?

We are doing Josh McDowell's study, Lord Change my Attitude. Excellent study, I just started it.
Right now the Israelites are in the wilderness, griping about bitter water, not enough food, heat, no maps, no soft beds. Now remember, God had sent 10 plagues on the Egyptians, and then He killed the soldiers chasing the Israelites by drowning them in the Red Sea. Wow. That's a show of power and devotion. And then they go and complain? Yes but, what have you done for me lately?

You don't know this, but I got a secondary infection this past week. Am taking mega antibiotics for the left arm cellulitis (which is all gone thank you for asking). Which resulted in a yeast infection, then a bacterial one. So I am in the OB GYN on Wednesday, feeling yechy, knowing this would be handled by anti-fungal plus steroids plus another antibiotic. No big whoop.  But hearing the words, another infection, I burst into tears. Major sobbing.

"I am trying to get healthy. I am doing everything I should. I am exercising and eating healthy. I am resting. I am so sick of being sick. I want to have energy... blah.. blah... blah." Dr. W. said, in a very compassionate voice, " This is just one small step backwards." To which I looked at him, and started sobbing again. He got up, patted my shoulder, told me I'd be okay, and left the exam room. Poor guy...

Now I know in my mind and heart that I was dam lucky to be sitting in that paper gown hearing I have an infection, not cancer of another sort. Dam lucky. And the health issues I have now are so so minor compared to others' side effects. And I am getting better. Be patient.

I was in a pity party of one.

I think it is okay to express these feelings. I think it is necessary to once in awhile. Then once they are out, and the tears are dried, it's forward march.

I am in this grumbling mood when I see foggy all around me. I am afraid of the future. I am uncertain of the path. I am in fear.

When I see clearly, I can't really believe that I was complaining. Or even upset at all. Was that even me? I can't imagine choosing fear. Why? God has so much good to wrap around me, why would I turn to fear?

I don't know the answer to these questions.
I only know that when I am not focused on God, it is easier for me to let fear come in.
He is the light unto my path, a lamp unto my feet.

I am so so thrilled to be back doing a daily study/ devotional book. Keeps me grounded.
I need to choose God every day. It is an every day choice. Not once a week. Every day, every morning.

Choose joy or choose fear.
Hmmmmm, should all my decisions be this easy!

Live your life while you can

These past few weeks we've been to one fantastic festive wedding, and two funerals. Not quite the movie numbers.

Two is too many funerals.

The first was of a thirty one year old boy, friend of our son's in middle school and high school, through sports. Accidental death. No rationalizing, it just happened.

The second was a father of our son's friend, after twelve years of cancer. A release. A relief. But why? I have no reason. We don't know everything. We just don't.

The wedding, both were twenty six years old. Just met four months ago. Delightfully happy. Who would have forecasted this even six months ago?

Words of wisdom I have repeated during several soul-full conversations this past month... told to me from Donna Leo, head nurse at Winter Park Towers Skilled Nursing floor.  She and I were talking about whether I should go to Italy with my family as planned August 3rd, or stay with Dad. She wanted me to go, to trust them to take care of Dad the days I was gone.  She said  she was certain every single one of the nursing home residents would tell me to go, they would love to have the chance. And my Dad would want me to go.

If there is one thing I have learned from working here (nursing home) all these years, it's live your life while you can. 

Isn't that the benefit we receive from attending a funeral?

We attend to honor the deceased.
To express our compassion for those left behind.
Sometimes out of a sense of duty.

But we also receive.
We hear once again the message to our hearts, that life is dear.
Every day is a gift.
So
Live your life while you can....

A Real Hero

Find one that's a little too brown around the edges, or has a slight crack in it. Break off a bite, walk away. mmm

Circle round the kitchen island, break off another piece, into the mouth it goes. mmm

Okay, resist. RESIST... Plop down on sofa, turn on a Law and Order rerun..... Case solved... back in kitchen... ACK here I am again.

So I'm using this blog to resist temptation. Anzac biscuits, ever heard of them? Well I'll just tell you then. They're Australia and New Zealand Army Corps biscuits, from WW II. Made with rolled oats, butter, coconut, flour and Lyle's Golden Syrup. That's the kicker.

A dear friend sent me two jars of her latest find, LGS. I had heard of it, never tasted it. It's one of the lighter treacles. And I just found out today exactly what treacle is. All those Agatha Christie books and I never knew. I still don't quite get what a jumper is, but that will have to wait. Treacle is a syrup gleaning from the sugar production process. I gather molasses would be a dark treacle. Great discovery, eh?

Anyway, my mission this fall is to experiment with caramel recipes on football Saturdays. My way to increase my interest in football Saturdays. So today I'm killing two birds with one stone, as LGS sort of tastes like a caramel. Hey, these are my rules, I can slide them.

So I looked up the recipes, found two I liked. Anzac biscuits and Treacle Cake. Converted all the measurements to American (not British), got all the ingredients for the first one, Anzac's, out on the counter. Love feeling like I'm a TV chef. Made them. Wow are they tasty.

Watched another Law and Order episode. Psychology says we like murder mysteries because the evil gets figured out and squashed by the good. So when our own lives have a spiraling-out-of-control part to them, at least we see some order in chaos. Whatever, I seem to enjoy them these days.

Then watched Giada make Pasta with Lemon and Tomatoes and Ricotta Salata.  Such simple recipe, looks really good. Rotini pasta hot out of the boiling water, toss with the following sitting in an exquisite pasta bowl: eight chopped roma tomatoes, lemon zest and juice from one lemon, salt, pepper and a chunk of ricotta salata crumbled. Of course, the Italian secret of a half cup pasta water added if needed. Looked great. No herbs, which surprised me. I picture fresh basil on everything.

Started on the second, Treacle Cake, but I'm out of butter. AHHH. I was really getting into this, I really am on Food Network. Setting out my ingredients, oven warmed up already. Talking to the camera in my mind. And alas, no butter. No worries mate, quick change in plans. Open the fridge, freezer, pantry doors.. what can I make? A blueberry pie. Only two and a half cup blueberries though. I'll sneak in a minced green apple, might balance the blueberries. Okay, off we go.

So now the pie's in the oven, and I was left alone in the kitchen with thirty-six minus four Anzac biscuits. In other words, need to escape temptation....

As I see it, I have used this blog to help me out for a year and a half now. Which is good, because I can't see anyone else is reading this. I mean, it's been six weeks since my last post. Well, if you do read this, you are an incredibly loyal follower. Thank you.  Or you just found this, so welcome!!!

I have missed writing.

Coming back from Italy, I posted all the photos on Facebook (I admit, traitorious. Mea culpa blogspot).

Then I launched myself into getting fit: walking 3 miles a day, playing tennis, golf. Posting my calories on Livestrong. Set on loosing 35 pounds and getting HEALTHY.

On Sunday 9/11/11 I chopped an onion. Tiny nick on my left thumb. Put a bandage on it, put antibiotic goop on it morning and night.

Wednesday morning I awoke with what I thought was the worst case of the flu. Oh my goodness the achy joints, headache, fever. By Wednesday afternoon fever was 101.8, and I had this weird red patch on my left upper arm. So I thought, I will go the the doctor just to MAKE SURE my arm that tends to get lymphedema isn't infected. It wasn't really swollen, so I thought this was a 50-50 shot. But I had heard all the warnings.

Well cellulitis, welcome to my world. A little bacteria snuck through the thumb nick, found its way into my lymph, my stagnating lymph. It multiplied with abandon, blooming spots all up and down my left arm. Staph or Strep, these bacteria are on our skin, just waiting.

Well go no further little ones. Help is on its way....

It's Saturday afternoon, fever is finally to normal this morning. Antibiotic tipped the tables on the little buggers. I visualized my T cells as White Capital T's with swords, charging in slaying the sickly neon green bacteria cells. The antibiotic was precise sniper rifles, picking them off one by one. They told me to take it easy for five days. I slept, completely slept, through the first two.

I was really really scared Wednesday night. I felt crappy. I had this bacteria that I could almost see growing, making red measles spots and rashes bloom up and down my arm.

Deep breath.
Once again I am healed.
Once again I am pulled back, laid down, stopped in my tracks.
Once again I am reminded how great He is, and how little I am in control.
Really.
And this is a good thing.

I am trying to build back.
I am trying to be conscious of healthy mind, body and soul.
To be optimistic.
Put God first.
Love with an OPEN heart.

A great idea when I am sitting here typing.
A great idea for the first few days.
It's the long run that is tough....

You will help me do this.

Anyone can slay a dragon, he told me, 
but try waking up every morning 
           & loving the world all over again. 
That's what takes a real hero. 

Brian Andreas

All who wander are not lost

You might wonder where I have been for the past four months.
Why no blog entries?

You could say I have been wandering. I LOVE that phrase, can't remember who spoke it first."All who wander are not lost." I am not by nature a wanderer. I am a goal-orientated, give me a mission-and-I'm-on-it type. So to wander, I have to have my goal be "to wander."

Or I could be so indescribably tired, not sleepy tired, but the tired like my mitochondria (the energy furnaces of each cell) are only functioning at half their potential.

Plus Dad. Helping him to heal. To climb back up the ladder to functioning. He's been in skilled nursing at the WP Towers, but he wants so badly to move upstairs to his apartment, or at least to Assisted Living. This takes a lot of energy.

Dad died yesterday. So now I have time. I knew I would have time, so I wasn't rushing. Now I have time.

Dad told me two months ago he was ready to "march on out", that he had lived a good life, done all he wanted. That he was finished with doctors, hospitals, needles. Then a few weeks later, sitting in the garden at the Towers, he in a wheelchair because he just wasn't going to be walking again, he said he was "ready to dance off the stage." This time I understood. And was silent, which is pretty rare for me.

Dad has been in and out of the hospital six times in five months. Three surgeries. This last hospitalization, they said there was nothing to do. No one part was the problem, everything was just giving out. Atrial fib hourly, kidneys starting to fail, bacterial infections. Just not a happy body. Dad sleeping 99% of the time. Let's keep him comfortable, peaceful, out of emergency rooms.

So we called in Hospice Friday, a week ago. Best move ever. Took him off most of his 17 pills daily. Dad was talking, mainly repeating phrases he just heard, but he could think. Smiles and nods, enjoyed his food and music. I had gotten into the habit of sitting with Dad each morning, my cup of coffee and his cranberry juice, read the entire newspaper out loud. Why not? Then late afternoon visits, leaving at dinner.

Beethoven. Always Beethoven. The last ER visit, I asked the nurse what she wanted me to play on my IPAD, she said Handel. I put it on, when she left Dad told me to change it, not worth even hearing the finish of the piece.  What kind of person would like Handel, he said.

Monday was the last food Dad ate. Pureed. And he spoke three sentences. After sitting with him sleeping for say two hours, he roused.

"Sara, what do you want from me?" I told him I wanted him to listen to his body. We all are doing that, just let it do what it wants to do. That I love him and he's a great Dad. This is his lead.

"Where am I going?" We are both going to heaven I know that for sure. When we will all get there, well that Is not my decision.

"Will I be alone in the house?" No, never alone. I will be here, or if I leave, nurses or someone from Hospice will be sitting here or in the hall. Then he closed his eyes, not another word Monday.

Tuesday, silence except for one sentence. His last words. He was silent, I was next to him. I saw his eyes moving back and forth behind his closed eyelids. I touched his arm, asked him what was he thinking? After a full minute he said, slowly and clearly, "I'm thinking it's been wonderful." That was all. The last words he ever spoke. By Tuesday afternoon he was so restless unconsciously, and had difficulty breathing, so they alternated morphine and ativan. He died Saturday night.

I'm currently in Rome, with my family. Sunday we all said a prayer for Dad, in San Giovanni di Laterna Basilica, not knowing his status yet. I think Dad liked that.

Goodbye Dad.
When you got the chance, you danced....

Not a drop

How easy it is to go pee. We don't think about it. Even the miracle of getting up from a seated position, walking twenty feet to the bathroom is something we take for granted. I don't ever think, what muscles do I need to relax to go pee?

When you are eighty and have had strokes and trauma to your urethra, you don't take all this for granted anymore.

Tough day with Dad yesterday. Not tough because of him, tough for him. And me. Went to urologist. After a procedure they left the catheter out, so we could see if Dad could go without it. Forever. He tried and couldn't. So we went out to lunch, he drank a large root beer, then two large cups of water. Two hours later, nothing. Not a drop. Oh man.

Ran the faucet, talked about waves and a sailboat bobbing up and down. He stood up, he sat down. I left the room. Not a drop. 


The catheter is back in. We will try again in five days.

The good thought about yesterday was Dad is walking with his walker. Pretty stable. Needs to build up endurance. Got shaky and cold when he was ready for lunch, blood sugar must have gone down.

And the answer to prayer, the thing that happened that I know was God inspired: Sitting in the urologist's office waiting for them to reinsert the catheter, he turned to me and said, I'm ready to march out. I said, Let's just wait, the nurse is fitting us in so she will be with us in a few minutes. No, he said. I'm ready to march out of being on earth. Oh, wow, I didn't realize you were talking about that. Dad, you have some good years left in you. I'm eighty. I've lived long enough. Just telling you. And he smiled.

You see, with a catheter, he has to stay in Skilled Nursing at the WP Towers. Can't go upstairs to Assisted Living, and certainly can't go up upstairs back to his apartment. That last idea seems like a long shot now. Skilled Nursing is sharing a room with a man who can't get out of bed. Who can't eat and doesn't talk. Only one other person in all of skilled nursing uses a walker that I can see. All are bed ridden or wheelchair bound. Dad can walk now. He is living in a bed, with one dresser, one bedside table, and a television. No chair. He has a window. No one to talk to, people there don't converse. He is confused in his thinking, gets really tired easily, but he has his sense of humor and some life left in him still.


So I leaned towards Dad, said, How are you feeling about being in Skilled Nursing? He said, It is where I need to be. They take care of me. I need that. I said, Do you want to not wear a diaper, because you don't need it. No, he said. I need it. Well, I said, I think we can still aim for Assisted Living. Try a few more times for the catheter to be removed. I am patient. Maybe you need another five days. Okay, he says. Then, Sara I am tired of all this. Tired of doctors. Tired.  I know, I know. I'm tired sometimes too Dad. We both smile at each other. Not a smile of laughter. A smile of, we are going to make the best of this. Together.

I see he needs me to not push him too hard, nor too little. And he needs me to not put so much energy into being upset about his environment, and more energy into bringing alittle cheer to him when I am with him. Remember he told me this two years ago (the last hospital ordeal which set him back from being independent to needed daily help with medicines and personal grooming.) I asked him, I want to do something for you, what do you want me to do? He said, whenever you visit me, don't feel sorry for me. Just be cheery. That's what I want.

Thank you for your prayers, dear friends. Surely God was there with us, wrapping His arms around us. This is Dad accepting where he is right now. HUGE step. God has been at work, and it really helps me to hear Dad accept the reality of his health. May I have God's help in keeping him feeling loved and peaceful and not lonely, just loved. In the way he will feel the love (not necessarily the way I want to show it.)  And may I be cheery for him.

Dad's birthday

Eighty years ago today, in a hospital in New York City, Muriel Gessford Seymour gave birth to my dad. I used to have a difficult time picturing my athletic, eccentric father as a baby or little boy. These days I don't.

Eighty years is a long time to us humans. Not to mountains or oceans or even to theories or governing bodies. To us humans, that's eighty years of wear and tear on the body, eighty years of wisdom gleaned through experience. Eighty years of disappointments and dashed hopes. Eighty years of seeing miracles, of hugs and friends and ice cream cones. It all depends on what you decide to remember of those eighty years.

Mack and Tray came down from North Carolina, Corey's here. So we all, his entire family, are taking him to Prime Rib and Yorkshire Pudding night at Interlachen to celebrate him starting on Decade Nine.

Passages.

Celebrate birthdays.
American Cancer Society has decided to be the group that celebrates birthdays.
I'm jumping on that bandwagon....

Decide what you want

Second day in a row of a picnic on the dock for Dad. Mike brought it, just sandwiches and pie I made. As you know, when you are picnicking, the food doesn't need to be top shelf. Actually the pie was pretty good...

Dad walked about 150 feet, we rested, then back. With a walker. Just think, those of you who are like me in that when I want to get up and go pee or get a something to drink, I can. Just think if you were totally dependent on others to move you. I don't appreciate the gift of mobility. His life has shrunken. I am trying to get him energized to build up, walk, do the Physical Therapy with enthusiasm. He doesn't have the drive. He's 79, has some vascular dementia. But he could get back walking, I know it. I am trying to cut down my visits with him. I don't stay all day, don't go twice. Once a day only, get him walking, take him outside, do something interesting like checkers, bible study, or reading. I want him to want to get better, maybe I was making it too fun lying around?

Great line last night from a mediocre movie. Got me thinking. Reese Witherspoon asks a psychiatrist what is the one general advice tidbit you would tell someone who is going through anything? His answer, Decide what you want and figure out how to ask for it. How's that for a stunner?

Life is pretty, pretty good.

Thursday, will be a day I remember always. To most of you, nothing that happened was exceptional. Ahead of time, I thought it would be easy-peasy. But it wasn't.

I had my first post-cancer mammogram and then ultrasound.

Pulled into the parking lot, to the very same spot I pulled into last April when they called me back in to tell me in person the biopsy results. Very same spot. Turned off the engine. Sat there. Thought, God I don't need you to give me a verse today to hold on to now, like I asked you for last year. I liked this morning's devotion about giving you Thanks in all things and Trusting you in all things. Right now my verse flowing through the days is, I am with you always. Matthew 28. Thank you that I am on this end of the past year....

Did I pray right then in the car for no cancer? No, because I know there is no cancer. I've been praying for that healing for a year. I prayed for the doctors and technicians to be on their best, that God give them eyes to see anything they need to, that He move their hands and that the machines work top notch. I prayed for total disclosure of anything that might need work. Honesty. Then I got out of the car.

Some of the conversations in the waiting areas were worthy of n television sit-coms. I stayed quiet, reading the latest People magazine, or playing Angry Birds Rio edition on my IPAD. One woman knew someone who had had breast cancer, talked about the treatment. Another woman had breast cancer eleven years ago, they cut it out, she didn't need chemo or radiation. Another woman knew someone who had died of breast cancer just last year. These were not what I needed to be thinking about.

Getting the mammogram, the technician asked if I was okay, should she get someone else to come in with us in case I fainted, as I was perspiring and breathing quickly. I said I would be fine, that I was understandably anxious.

We are following one cyst still, and there was a ropey spot on the right breast that we will follow. Left breast is swollen and very pink but NO CANCER!

Yippee-doodle! I was relieved, but not as jubilant as I thought I would be. Why? Could it be that I felt I was healed, so this was just confirmation? Or that I know, The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, Blessed be the Name of the Lord?  Job 1. Whatever comes my way, God is still good, and He is still right with me.

Nevertheless, it was an emotional time walking through the same steps I did a year ago. Like the outcome this year MUCH BETTER!

Then to the OBGYN, because the antibiotics they tried to reduce the swelling and pinkness in my left breast with, have given me a vaginal bacterial infection, beyond fungus! Lovely. I just want to not have all these creams, pills, etc to take. Some day... I want to be thriving and healthy, not putting out fires. And I want my left breast to be not pink and swollen (it's been three months since last radiation.) Some day...

The Arimidex is still making my shoulders and hips ache. At least I think that is what makes them ache. Hands achy slightly. Yoga helps. 

Played tennis this morning for the first time with people, felt great. I can't keep on my toes yet, too tiring. But I will get there. I walk 30 minutes on the elliptical now. Don't nap in the afternoons. Still meditate though. Eating healthy, fruits and veggies, little meat, whole grains. Probiotics. The body is slowly but surely getting back into shape. Love that feeling.

Mid-March is paradise here in Central Florida. This is the weather we all moved here for. I bought a hammock last week, we put it up right next to the lake. Going out, swinging slowly, looking up into the trees. Ducks and other birds enjoying the lakeside with me. Life is good. Pretty, pretty good.

Day by day

 It's been awhile. I have had some bad days, a few. I have had a handful of exceptionally wonderful days. The rest of the time, I have been tired. I tried being realistic, letting myself nap in the afternoons and only scheduling one event per day. That helped, but I was still tired.

Then Dad fell, was in hospital. You know that. He's in skilled nursing now, has been back in the ER twice with catheter not working. I was back in health crisis mode, with my father this time. Just gave myself over to it, amazed how much he needs me. He has vascular dementia, is confused and is so tired himself he looks to me to make decisions, to lead the way. I am the parent, he is the child. This is just the way it is. Trying to let him keep his dignity. Wanting to smooth the way for him, but letting him make some choices. I have wiped his behind, held his hand while they attempted to insert catheter in the ER, told nurses his bag was full, helped him up in bed, fed him food, read him verses, sang the Ode to Joy with him, slept in a chair next to him. I know what his meds are by heart, even the doses. I know when he gets his showers, how to take the foot rest off his wheelchair. These are all things I didn't need to learn for me, but I want to know for him.

The people that work with our older folks are fantastic. They are surrounded by lack of hope, sadness of what was and isn't now. The past year, as I went through healing, I knew I would get back to where I was, or even better than I was. With Dad, with anyone his age (79), it is a slow slide downward. Every fall is one notch closer to the hole. Each time you slide down, it is harder and harder to climb back up. And you don't necessarily get back to where you were. I don't think Dad will. He was in independent living a month ago before he fell. Back there is our goal,, but realistically, I hope hope hope he can get up to assisted living (out of skilled nursing.)

I was in the physical therapy studio Friday with Dad. Six days a week, six patients, two trainers, ninety minutes. It is social hour. Every one is doing their biking or arm lifting or leg lifts. One woman, tiny, white hair, frail, was crying. She just couldn't do anymore of anything. She was tired. She was sobbing. I didn't want to stare at her, but it was as if my heart could hear her heart. It was just too hard and she didn't have the strength to push and push and build back up. She was too far down that slippery slope. She just couldn't get back up.

We have wonderful medical resources to keep us going. But they don't keep all parts going at the same level. Dad has a pacemaker, which is great that his heart won't stop now. A little electric spark will zap it to get going, keep beating, when it stops. He wants to be able to stand up and walk. He wants to go pee by himself. He wants to shower by himself. He wants to hop in a car, decide to eat fried Ipswich clams and onion rings for dinner tonight. Never again.

Our older folks are truly forgotten. Why do we do this?

At lunch a few days ago, I was showing Dad photos on my phone of the bright flowers and trees blooming now in Orlando. So I also showed the gentleman sitting at the table the photos. He lives in skilled nursing, has been there for four years. Wheelchair bound, something wrong with his hands. Strokes have hindered his speech. He was seventeen when he signed up for the Marines. That was 1942. After training, he was sent to France. He also fought in Korea. You know what I will say. This guy was willing to give his life for me. And here he is, eating three meals a day, in silence, in skilled nursing. Waiting.

After seeing the woman in physical therapy sobbing, and after seeing Dad struggle to stand up from seated (which he can do now - YEAH!) I thought, it is time I get out of healing mode and move into the victory lap. So Saturday I went over to Interlachen CC, hit tennis balls against the ball machine. OH MY, you know you are on your toes a lot in tennis. And you sidestep too. I was pretty pitiful, but I did it. Then Sunday, thirty solid minutes on the elliptical. Yep, I did it. Monday yoga. Tuesday mall walking. And healthy eating from Friday on. Mostly organic. Tons of vegetables and fruits, nuts and lean protein, yogurt and cereals. Keep fruit cut up in the refrigerator. Whole Foods Green Machine fresh juice (spirulina, spinach, apples, wheat grass.) Water, water, water. Got to get weight off and muscles built up. Now is the time. Too many clothes in my closet don't fit, I refuse to buy anything bigger.


The photo - Mike with his Green Red Velvet Cake (his birthday is St. Patrick's Day). Corey came over after softball. Such a joy to see him in a good place. Returning to computer science. Who would have guessed? The path in life is not linear. Nor should it be, as we would all miss out on so much!

As for my medical status, the left breast (the one that's been busy this past year) is swollen, red, tender.  Still. So I went to the radiologist, got two weeks of antibiotic. That ended a week ago, no improvement. Going to surgeon tomorrow if Dad's urologist appointment is finished in time. If not, then I must wait until Monday (surgeon is on vacation, she's coming in Wednesday for emergencies.) Left arm is currently swollen a bit. This happens on and off. Hair is growing in, about an inch long. I think it's curlier than before, more gray, less red. It's a mousy brown.

Arimidex is daily. Estrogen - zapping pill. I am so much less sore. Now it is just shoulders and hips. A few of the stitches underneath the port and basal cell scars haven't dissolved yet.

Day by day. Trust God day by day. He wants to live in each moment with me. He has tomorrow all figured out. Trust that He does. He is there already, why have fear? Such freedom living this way.

I am with you always... Matthew 28

I got angry at God the second day in Sun Valley. OH, I haven't told you about that yet have I? I DID fly out to Sun Valley, five days after Mike and Corey. My flight was diverted from Sun Valley to Twin Falls, due to snow. I didn't worry. I was so exhausted, but figured I would get to Sun Valley at some point, whether I got upset about the diversion and late night travel, or not. The second night out there, Mike's Dad's hernia was painful, one of the caregivers melted down. Long story short, he needed hernia surgery. Made that decision, nurse to be at house with caregivers for three days post surgery, communicate with doctors and Mac's entourage. I walked into the shower, just furious with God that I had come out to Sun Valley and I deserved a break. Everyone else was skiing, well Mike was doing work on his father's estate in the afternoons, but it SEEMED like everyone else was just having fun. WHY COULDN"T I?  The next morning, my first thought on waking up was, THANK GOD I was out there to help Mac, that the hernia was going to be taken care of. Wow, was I glad I could help.

Thoughts feed our emotions. Got to keep a check on those thoughts.

I feel so close to normal it is wonderful. Better than I have felt in over a year. Seeing a few friends. Enjoying March in Florida. Life is pretty pretty good.

Asheville

The best weekend. Went to Asheville to visit Mack and Tray, see their apartment for the first time. They moved in nine months ago! I was so tired. I am so tired of being tired. They thought out the entire weekend beautifully. So beautifully. Took such such good care of us. Tupelo Honey in downtown Asheville for the first night's dinner. Saw drumming circle (wanted to join in.) Saturday went to farm with pigs and chickens (they were so cute!) Dinner at the Biltmore (LOVED the fireplace, sat there nursing a drink.) Breakfast at a place with gluten free, freshness, care given to each item served. You know, that was all of Asheville. They love life, they appreciate the details. They have integrity in their attitude. Human scale. Humans are important. This moment is important. I loved it.

Most of all, loved seeing the home that Mack and Tray built. It was warm, comfortable. It was full of love. It was them. Oh how that warmed my heart.

Big news, they are moving to Blacksburg in May, as Mack got a great offer from Va Tech's Chemistry PhD program. YEAH! Glad I saw Asheville while they were still there... great first trip. I can do it, napping all day long. What happens when I don't nap if I am tired, the feet and left arm get swollen. Head aches, eyes itch. Throat / larynx inflames. I know. 

Here's Mike waiting at the airport to come home.

What do I want?

How do you know what you want?

I can make decisions for others. I can choose critical medical paths with no hesitation. I can analyze for purchasing, spending more time on more costly decisions. I can weigh pros and cons, predicting ramifications as best as possible. And I can live with decisions I have made that were mistakes.

But how do I know what I want?

Where to have dinner, who to call, what to take on, what to drop off. How to change, how to grow.

What do I want?


When you have the world at your doorstep, whispering for you to come out and play, how do you decide which way to step?


I guess I don't have a driving passion at the moment. I am a project person, I derive much satisfaction from completing projects. But right now I am just too tired, don't have the energy.


Potential projects:
1. loose weight
2. get back in shape physically
3. get back into tennis
4. get back into golf
5. travel
6. travel with a friend
7. plan Italy trip for August
8. plan Scotland trip for September
9. do 2010 taxes
10. go through items at desk that have been accumulating for months
11. don't choose any project yet, just enjoy the days and gain energy

Bitter waters of Marah

The water at Marah was bitter. The Israelites were brought out of slavery in Egypt, through the Red Sea, and now were in the Desert of Shur. Three days in the desert without water. They come to Marah, and water - Hallelujah! They taste it, and it's bitter. Oh man.

That's how I felt this morning. I woke up crying. I was so so tired. Dad had a pacemaker put in yesterday. I have been taking care of me, while taking care of him. I have been leaving him for an hour at lunch, getting out and walking around the lake at the hospital. I have been getting out for dinner, or like last night, staying through dinner leaving at 8 PM. Always back beside him in the mornings early, say 7:30, to be there when the various doctors come. You know caring for an elderly parent, who can't think straight. Not incompetent, just straddling the fence. It is exhausting. Helping them walk to the bathroom. Feeding them sometimes. Making sure they drink water, take their meds, making medical decisions for them.

But this blog is about me.

I woke up, with the heaviness of his sadness covering me. I want to go to Sun Valley for vacation tomorrow, but I know I can't leave Dad until he is stable. I want to feel good, to not ache in my shoulders and hips. I want to loose weight and gain hair (on my head). I want Dad to be healthy. The fragility of his health reminds me of the fragility of mine. I am scared I have cancer in me still. My left breast is still swollen and red. The right one, well, I did a self exam and I felt a little torpedo. Am I just obsessing? I have a mammogram scheduled for three weeks, the first one since last April. Am I healthy? Am I doing everything the way I should? Life is so tough. Oh, the doubts. (Get that one out of my brain right away!) They roar like lions in the still hours of the night.

And you are so isolated from your friends and everyday life going through the hospital watch. Dear ones call and bring soup and text. I am an only child, Mom died 10 years ago. So there are no siblings or spouses. My friends are still there. I just need to wait. There's a season to be with them, just not now. 

I drove to the hospital thinking, I need an attitude improvement. Dad was stable, sleeping. He's not shaken the sedation from the pacemaker surgery. Can't process verbal instructions. As he was okay, I went off to the radiation oncologist in the same hospital. AHA, glad I did. I had a fever of 101.4. The nurse asked me if I felt alright. How does anyone feel after nine days of an elderly father in the hospital for his heart? I have an infection in my breast. Wow. No wonder I felt horrible. 

When my kids were little, you could always tell if one of them was coming down with a cold or ear infection. They would be really really grouchy before the physical symptoms were developed enough to notice. That happened here I think. I was really grouchy. The breast infection made it so I just couldn't keep the thoughts positive anymore. Knowing this, it is so much easier to be positive now.

Came back to the room, read the bitter water at Marah story. Double WOW, that is me. I felt like I came out of Egypt just to get led to bitter water. But, if you continue on, the water gets sweeten by Moses touching it with a tree, and then they go on to a place with12 springs and 70 palms.

So, I am out of Egypt. I tasted the bitter water. The next thing I will see is the springs and the palms. YEAH! I will wait.

The day of the heart cath, I came upon a good verse for Dad.
Exodus 14:14- The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still.

He hasn't stopped loving me, He knows the end of the story, and it's a good ending.

8 AM Orlando Avenue

Sunday morning 8 AM, driving south on Orlando Avenue I had the same experience as I did yesterday 8 AM driving south on Orlando Avenue. Here's what it looked like.

The car windows were open.  Early spring in Florida, breezes and sunshine. Not blaring sun, delightful sun. Driving to spend the day sitting with my dad in the hospital. 

Orlando Avenue is a four lane in-town road. I had just turned onto Orlando Avenue from Orange Avenue. Drove past a group of eight story tall buildings, then through a few blocks of residential with majestic eighty foot oak trees. The road opens up, is a bridge between the east and west lobes of Lake Estelle. To my right on the other side of the lake pops the towering twenty floors of my destination, Florida Hospital. I glance at it, strong and powerful. Dad is in there.

To my left, over the lake I see houses in the distance. But what catches my eye and my attention is the sun to the east. The clouds both days were the light gray quilted kind (I learned the names in eighth grade and have forgotten, sorry.) When the road opened up to the lake, I felt, literally felt, rays of sunshine peeking through the clouds and warming the left side of my face.

First thought Day One of sunshine on my cheek was, Good morning Lord. You are here, you are right here with me. You are sending warmth and love and peace. Thank you. Come with me and be with Dad. Be with us all day long. We ask you. Thank you.

First thought Day Two of sunshine on my cheek was, Wow God you are so amazing. Here you do this again, and I like it. Thank you for this moment of your Presence. Your Presence with me and with Dad, to carry this moment all day long like a penny in my pocket, closing my eyes and feeling it again during the day. We can do this together.

And then my prayer, May Dad be peaceful and trust you that you are taking care of him. May he be comfortable. May we feel your Presence all day today. May he feel my love, as that is my purpose today, that Dad sense my love, my compassion, and my peacefulness with his future. If I am scared, he will be scared. If I am confident God has him in his arms, Dad will be peaceful.

Well, I am confident God is in control. I am also thankful for God, as I wouldn't want to be doing this alone.

Painting on wall outside main elevator is of a surgery. Has doctors operating, and Jesus among them, guiding. Titled, Chief of Medical Staff. 

What a great way to start the day. Thank you Jesus!

Forever since

It has been forever since I blogged. Almost a month.

Several times I felt like sitting down and spilling the beans. But I stopped myself.  I am resting tons and wanted a blog vacation. A blog-cation?  I am crossing over into "cancer survivor" identity. Today for the first time a total stranger (a nurse here in the hospital) called me a cancer survivor. Music to my ears.

What has me sitting in the hospital?
How am I feeling physically?
How's the estrogen-sponging drug going?
How about my emotions?

Whoa cowboy... one at a time...

First, the hospital. It's not me, it's my father. He lives in an independent living apartment in town, in a Continuous Care Residential Community. In his words of years ago, once you live there, the only way you move out is in a coffin.  He's a widower of ten years. His Personal Grooming Assistant found him lying on the floor when she went there Thursday morning. He had fallen and couldn't get up. Ambulance to the hospital. Thirty six hours later, we are in a private room of the Neurology Progressive Care Unit. He had a stroke, and now he has a-fib of his heart, so we are finding out about that. Bottom line, he is stable. This is simply and sadly one more step in the long, slow, downward slide.

I am camped out here. I zoomed to his apartment Thursday, arrived barely before the ambulance. When we left I took socks, moisture cream, tooth brush and paste, photo of us (his family) and a book on Beethoven he got for Christmas for me to read to him. Been here before. Might as well be prepared. Internet and laptops make this so much easier.

You get to know the nurses and the techs. The location of blankets and ice and water.  All patients need an advocate. The ER was so full they had 30 stretchers in the hallway. We were in a room, thankfully. Noise, bells and buzzers. No food or water all day. How do the nurses and doctors work in that stress daily?

How am I doing? Glad to be right where I am. On the other side of last year. Eleven months ago I was all a-ga-ga for the wedding, figuring out how to settle Mike's dad into a life of best quality, playing tennis and complaining that I had SO MUCH TO DO. Then I saw through the glass darkly.

Now, physically, I am improving. I have seen steady improvement in my body. The aches of my shoulder and hips are still there, and maybe the hands. But other muscles/ tendons/ joints are good. When I am too tired, the next day I am achier. Yoga is great, feel so good the next day. This might be the Arimidex, or a carry over from Chemo, I don't know.

Over the past eight weeks (last radiation treatment) I was more tired for about three weeks, then the curve changed slope and I am building up. Tricky part is you think you should be back to pre-cancer health. Not yet. When I let myself just float, only schedule one or two things a day max, allow time in the afternoon to nap if I want to, then I am okay. Hence why I was able to fall asleep on the ER floor Thursday evening for an hour and a half. The body know what it needs. When it needs rest to heal, you rest.

Also physically, I had the port removed from my right arm. YEAH! My body decided to not dissolve one of the absorbable stitches underneath, and rejected it. Pushed it up to the surface to get rid of it. What a hoot! Except it was a stitch that was pulling something up with it, so it hurt. Like a little barb pushing up under my skin. They went in again and took it out. The next week, a stitch from the basal cell carcinoma they cut off my left shoulder did the same thing, they had to cut it off.

What does this tell me? My body is sick and tired of foreign objects, and it is amazingly good at rejecting them. So any cancer cells that might crop up from now on, you have no chance. This immune system is cranking with all engines.

Emotionally, I'm finding my way. The epiphany that I should not push myself to do things, just be still and listen to what my body needs was good. I was getting anxious that I wasn't running marathons yet. The epiphany that I am a divine child of God was reassuring.  How did I not know that before? I do miss my friends stopping over, emailing and calling. I am waiting to hear God tell me what to do next, where to go, who to see. I hear loud and clear that I am not supposed to crowd my days with plans. Being less scheduled, I can listen to His directions.  I can listen to Him when I am still.

I have asked God to show me what to do, who to be with, how to proceed. He is showing me some changes. New bible study, getting involved in a new church. New routines at home. Be gentler on myself. Increasing exercise (slow but steady wins that race). Lay it all at His feet, look to Him daily for direction.

I do not want to be identified as a woman to pity because I had cancer. That is part of who I am, but not all. Not my identity. I am a lucky one, I am blessed, the world is full of goodness and my life is sunshine and flowers right now, and I trust also it will be in the future, around the corner.

I picture myself in another year, having lost some of the weight I gained this year and having grown back some of the hair I lost. I will be playing tennis and golf and walking. Laughing with friends. Caring for friends. Getting up will not hurt my hips. Sitting for long periods of time will not hurt my shoulders. My throat will not hurt when I swallow (I am getting that looked at Tuesday.)

I want the follow up mammogram of the end of March to come soon. It will be great to hear that the chemo and radiation and surgery all worked. I had thought they would do a PET scan or even a mammogram after all of it, to see that it worked. They don't. That surprised me. Another opportunity to learn trust.

Dragons

Things happen to build our character,
to show us we are stronger than we think we are,
to grow us where we weren't growing.

All things work together for good to those who love God and are called according to his purpose. Romans 8

Life is not perfect.
I choose a life of joy and not of fear, of hope and forgiveness and love.
I want to take the path set out by God, but I still have to be the one taking each individual step.

Fairy Tales are more than true; 
not because they tell us that dragons exist, 
but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten. ~G. K. Chesterson

Tearing up

Still haven't figured out the drug issue. What will I be taking for the next five years, every day?

The oncologist's staff has called in the wrong prescription four times over the past three days. FOUR TIMES. That doesn't count the frustration of them not calling it in at all the first time I asked them to. Calling the doctor's office several times over the past three days, I finally talked to a person this last time. Before that, only answering machines. They call in the prescription to the pharmacy. I go to pick it up, and its not there. Or it is the wrong drug. Or they called the wrong pharmacy AND the wrong drug. Doesn't give you confidence in Dr. M's practice, does it?

You would think, since Dr. M has gotten over $90,000 for my six chemo treatments (think about that, the five minute office visits were $130), they would treat me like a VIP. Nope. And for you who are interested, the radiologist oncologist was paid over $80,000 for the seven weeks of radiation treatments (their fifteen minute office visits were $500.) The radiologist's office treats everyone like a VIP, so I'm happy with them.

Happiest is that the cancer is gone and won't recur.

photo taken on my walk

I walked one hour and twenty minutes today, three and a quarter miles. I used to do this in forty five minutes. I will get there again.

Do I sound whiney? I am. Went to Dr. C to have him take off the basal cell carcinoma. After over an hour of waiting, I'm escorted into the exam room. Morning appointment, why is he this behind schedule already? Right away I am feeling frustrated. He came in, asked how I was doing? I said nothing, he didn't notice I said nothing, he just marched right on. He washed his hands and looked at my chart, started talking. Interesting. Ah, now he turns and looks my way. Circles the spot on my shoulder with a purple sharpie.

Numbed up with lidocaine by the nurse, he cuts away. Asking me about my past months of chemo, what it was like, what did I have, etc. Then he says, This is bigger than we thought. I think, We thought? He says, It's quite a bit deeper than we thought. Again I think, We thought?  Next he says, Funny how all that chemo, what was it, six rounds, doesn't touch this cancer on your skin. Funny, right. I was lying on my side, tears were dripping down my cheek. He went 3.1 cm deep, 3.6 wide. Seven stitches. Oh man.

Compare this to getting the port out, at Dr. R's office two weeks ago. That office is run with compassion as well as efficiency.  Always warm greetings. Sometimes I have waited there, but I didn't mind as much. When they shot the lidocaine, another nurse held my free hand and told me to squeeze. She sat by my head the entire procedure (ten minutes), and talked with me. 

Driving home I dealt, or tried to deal with, the prescription puzzle. That's why I took a long walk when I got home. It seems like life is continuing as it was pre-cancer, full of frustrations and stresses. Except now I am tired and achy all day long, and my left breast is tender. I wasn't tired and achy before. And my left breast was happy.

I have thoughts of wanting to go away, to a cabin in the woods or to a cottage by the sea. Just be separate from all this stuff and focus on healing. It would follow me, wouldn't it? You can never get away from daily responsibilities, can you? No one does it for you. In fact, I do a lot of it for them.

stork, anhinga, egret all on the branch

Walking I started tearing up again. Thought about my kids. They will have days in their future when life isn't going so well. Will they have someone who loves them to comfort them at that moment? Please Lord, may the answer be yes. May I have done my job as a mother in teaching them they need to love and accept love.  My heart will always love them and I will do whatever I can for them, but they will live on after me. May they have loving spouses who hold their hearts gently and their hands strongly.

We can't protect our kids from tough times. We know tough times are part of life. May you, Lord, be gentle with them, whisper into their ears that You love them, right when they need it most. And may you, Lord, hold them in your strong loving arms and comfort them when they feel alone.

Oh yes, I think I need to get away. I wanted life to change and it hasn't. So maybe it is me who needs to change?

Sailboats

After cancer treatment, I think we all must look like a sailboat pushed off from the dock. We need puffs of fresh breezes and some sort of map so we may proceed.

Pushing off from that dock, that is hope. Hope with a capital H. We leave the medically guided treatments behind, knowing we are out there in the boundary-less ocean under our own steam. We steer the boat. We make sure there is wind in our sails.

You do it your way. My way is asking God to be the power of the wind, and at the same time be the gentle whisper of direction. That's how I have hope.

Once in awhile we have to interact with the medical universe. I'm doing that now.

Things have been going pretty good. Tired. If I am up and out of the house for over five hours, I will start getting shivers, and whole body aches. I am walking an hour a day, now going faster each day. Port site still tender, improving every day.

Hair is about an inch long now.

I have expectations that, as it has been four weeks since last radiation, my life and my body would be back to normal. Not yet. I need to manage my expectations. Just relax Sara, you have been through poisoning and burning. The left breast is still swollen and tender, not wearing under wire bra yet. I did one day last week and by the end of the day the under wire was killing me, cutting into my swollen flesh. Flickers of pain in my breast and left underarm area randomly. I am so tired I shiver if I am up and out and exercising too much.  So I am out of the house six hours a day, walk one hour a day. Getting there.

Just a little sailboat setting off for who knows where....

We are beautiful

These scars that we cancers survivors have, well, some might think they are ugly.

please note, this was inspired by a blog post I read months ago. can't recall all the post but I loved the idea. now that my life is including more than just battling and surviving, I see what this meant.

I can tell you, they are beautiful to the child we are holding. That bald head we hate is beautiful to the husband who is listening to us sleep peacefully beside him. The ten pounds we gained during chemo is beautiful to the wife who can hold our hand while we walk together.

Our battle scars command respect and admiration because they are a measurable proof of our tenacity. Every single day and every individual life is beautiful. 

Cancer survivors, you all are the most beautiful people I have ever known because you refuse to let the ugliness of this disease rob you of your true beauty.

Look in the mirrors and see beauty.
True breathtaking beauty is what I see when I look into your face.

humble and grateful

A thought came to me, thinking about my fellow cancer fighters.
You fight, you battle, you give it all you can, you win.
But not everyone wins.
I am stopped in my tracks about a young girl and two guys my age, from this town, all died the end of last year. Six months ago they were here, fighting as I was fighting. Now they are gone. Of cancer.

Why them, not me?
They went to doctors, prayed. I am sure they prayed fiercely, and people prayed for them. Good prayers. They did the same things I did. 
Here I am, why was I allowed to live?

This is a mystery I will not understand while I am on earth.
My heart aches for their families and friends. They are, all three of them, in heaven now. I am certain of this.

And here I am.
Thinking of them, I get all quiet.

When I was in the middle of chemo, I asked a dear friend, fellow cancer survivor, how did she feel now, ten years after her surgery and chemo. She told me she feels so grateful and humble everyday when she thinks of three women who had breast cancer when she did, and aren't with us today. I thought to myself, I don't feel humble. Or grateful. Nauseous from chemo at that moment, I felt like a boxer in the ring, like a soldier carrying 80 pounds of equipment in 110 degree heat. I was in the middle of the fight. Adrenaline was pumping.

Now, six months later, a 180 degree turn in my heart.
I feel humble that I am allowed more days.
And grateful, thankful, achingly appreciative that I am allowed more days.
The quiet in my soul is a good quiet.
A peaceful quiet.
A still and motionless top of the lake quiet.

I am a serene yet curious little sparrow, not an elegant and powerful raptor but a common backyard sparrow. No one notices me when they pass by, no one takes my photo or texts to their friends that they saw a gray-brown sparrow sitting on a branch this morning.

I  am sitting at the foot of the cross, looking up into the face of Jesus.
He looks down at me with love and tenderness. 
To Him, I am the reason.

The biopsy is....

Ran to the phone, it's on the other side of the house.
Missed the call, listened to the voice mail.
Dermatologist's office asking for a call back.

Called back.
The biopsy is cancer, she says.
I want to shout to her, Hey I've been down this road before so tell me what kind specifically is it melanoma and so what do we do? Give it to me straight sister. I've reached at least the high school level of cancer education, don't talk to me like I am a kindergartener.
But I don't. I politely ask, what kind?
Basal cell carcinoma. Come in next week have it cut out.
WHOO - WHOO! Only basal cell, yes this is good.

I hang up the phone.Walk back to my office.

Wait a second. Are you kidding me? I just finished nine months of surgeries, chemo, radiation for breast cancer.
Just finished, like in five days ago.
Oh man.

Now, all I know about basal cell carcinoma is that you don't have to worry. You just cut it out and it doesn't come back. That sounds pretty pretty easy to me. Living in Florida, being a tennis player and golfer and someone who loves to be outside, well, the skin gets a lot of sunshine even though I am single handedly paying the salary of at least one employee at  Coppertone with all the suntan lotion our family goes through in a year.

But everyone down here gets this it seems. No big deal.

Okay, deep breath. Change the thought process. Turn away from the negative.
Been trying on different lifestyle changes to focus on WELLNESS for this coming year, for the coming years of life. This little blip will cement in my mind that they are important. I don't want this being a biopsy of the breast that she was talking about, and I get the same news... those words have such power... it's cancer.

This would have happened even if I didn't have breast cancer. Just a blip in the road. A pit stop on the road of life. A pimple on Miss America's face.

Dexa scan Friday showed good strong bones (ordered because I am on anastrozole which can weaken bones), they are less dense than a year ago's dexa scan. So my goal in the coming year, one of them, is to strengthen the bones. Calcium and Vitamin D and exercise are my friends!

I am cooking healthier, adding Meatless Mondays to our vocabulary. Soup Monday and Wednesday because we have yoga after dinner. Colorful vegetables, lots of them, and fruit. Exploring. Served Rainbow Swiss Chard sauted with shittake mushrooms and garlic for dinner last night. Corey asked, is it "charred" as in the way you cook it? Also Roasted Red Bell Pepper with Parmesean, olive oil and basil pasta, fresh pineapple on the side.

I am walking an hour a day. Bought this month's booklunch book as an audio file, so I have to walk 26 hours this month. Works out well. I need accountability. Trying to increase my endurance. Still tired, but not actually falling asleep every afternoon, just resting. Love to see these hurdles crossed.

I will go to the doctor next Wednesday, have them take out this basal cell, and be grateful it is so simple. And I will have a dermatology skin check every year, for the rest of my life. My long, long, long, healthy life...