Takin' Life One Day At A Time

Adventures In Green Juice - Part 1

2011-12-05T06:00:00.012-05:00

Every morning I use this...

to make this...

It is oh so tasty...

and good for me...

BUT.

That's a lot of produce and a lot of work for a small glass of juice....

and produce is expensive...

especially organic produce.

SO.

When I have one of those days I so frequently have...

you know, one of those days...

a day where I know why I wear the self-imposed label of super klutz.

It's days like these when I sometimes find myself crying a river...

A green river...

Don't You Just Hate It When...

2011-11-07T13:34:00.008-05:00

...you feel stupid?

I'm not sure it happens to everyone. But it happens to me.

Often.

Too often.

Today I share Stupid Moment #1:

Obviously I'm not the multi-tasker I once was. During a recent early morning phone conversation with a friend, I was attempting to gather the trash on my way out the door for work, all the while picking up random this and that, stuffing it here and there.

With my house on the market, I do my best to keep things orderly should I get a much awaited phone call stating my house will be shown.

A little side note: I have no idea why I bother. The only showings have been on days when I was running so late I left the house in complete disarray. Maybe this should be my new approach.

Messy house equals visits from potential buyers???

Then again, that may be why potential buyers have not potentially bought.

So...back to my story. I'm always running late and this day was no exception. Picture me scrambling about the house jabbering away. One last look around assured me the house would pass muster but there was one problem.

Something was missing.

The one thing I cannot get through any day without. It is imperative to my survival. In other words...my life depended on finding it.

I frantically began retracing my steps in search of said important object. I began digging through drawers and closets, flinging about all the this and that I had just stashed here and there.

When it appeared I wouldn't find this thing as vital to my existence as oxygen, I interrupted the conversation to make this most panicked statement...

"Hold on! I have to go! I'm late for work and I can't seem to find my phone!!!"

I'm thinking I need to learn to be happy feeling stupid. Looks like the "stupids" are here to stay.

Doing a Drive By

2011-10-28T12:36:00.005-04:00

Seeing as life is sucking up all my time, I thought it best to stop in with a quick hello rather than wait for time to write a proper post. Life has become the whirlwind it once was and I'm doing my best impersonation of a sprinter in my efforts to keep up. That is NOT a complaint! Life is more than good! Here are but a few of my latest reasons to shout Woo Hoo!:

The writer/publisher LOVED (her emphasis, not mine) the photos so I'm working hard at improving my photography skills. So excited! So, so excited!

I'm working out again. Although I worked out throughout the majority of my treatments, I had to tone things down a bit. At the end of radiation, I hit a wall and my energy was gone. Zapped. Drained. My gas tank was on empty. I have never felt so helpless in my life. It has taken months to reclaim a "pep in my step" but I'm getting there. I worked out 3 times this week...at the same level I worked prior to my diagnosis...AND...I didn't immediately fall in the bed and stay there for 3 days! YAY!

The clinical trial at Duke is a no-go. There were complications with registration prior to the trial closing. Everyone has been concerned I would be upset. But I'm not. I simply see it as God closing the door. He is SO good to do things like that!

I'm working longer hours. While that may not sound like something to celebrate, for a work-a-holic like me...it is definitely a good thing. Those 40 hour work weeks feel much better when you add another hour or two... or three or four... here and there.

I'm finally getting my scrapping groove on! After my time on various design teams ended, I suffered major burn-out. Try as I might to scrap, I just couldn't find my mojo. Lately I've been dreaming of layout ideas... of paint and paper and scissors..Oh My!

My social life is back in full swing! Time with friends, friends and more friends! I've even gone on a few dates. Yes. Yes. There could be possible future posts coming on this subject. ;-)

Although that doesn't cover everything, it covers most things....lots and lots to be thankful for!

So tell me, what are you celebrating or most thankful for today?

Photography 101

2011-10-18T15:46:00.004-04:00

Last night I had the opportunity to use my camera in something other than auto mode... something I've rarely done. Seems my mother has been promoting herself and one of her friend's decorating skills for publication. Both have filled their homes with primitive antiques. Both have magazine-worthy homes.

An author whose focus is on highlighting primitive antiques is interested in featuring their homes in her upcoming publications. Sample photos were needed to decide if their decor was in keeping with the theme and feel of her books. I quickly volunteered to use my less than stellar photography skills to capture the sample images.

These are a few of the photos taken. (click on the photos for a larger image)

I was ever so grateful these are only to be used as samples and the focus is on content, not the quality of the photos. I've noticed the images are darker when viewed on my work computer than when viewing on my home computer. Leaves me to wonder how they will appear when viewed by the author???

Not to make excuses, but I was shooting in very low light in most rooms and I was digging deep to remember all I've learned in Photography 101 about shooting in such conditions. Trust I will be studying and refreshing my memory on the subject. If the author/publisher likes what she sees, I will be photographing both "J's" house and my mother's house at Christmas. They both decorate for the holidays in their incredible vintage style.

If chosen, the photos...yes...MY photos... will be published in a 2012 Christmas publication!

Wish me luck.

Mom and "J" have their part in the bag.

Me?

Well...I'm off to practice. For as they say...practice makes perfect! And I need all the help I can get!

Stirring Things Up - The Season Premiere

2011-10-12T11:00:00.007-04:00

Here we go folks! We are back to our regularly scheduled program. I'm referring to the "show" that is my life. Although we recently took a break from broadcasting the shenanigans of our mixed up, messed up leading lady (that would be me), we are now back in action!

Last year our season finale took an unexpected twist when our heroine (I so love that label) faced serious, life threatening illness. The writers of this not-exactly-ready-for-prime-time drama struggled to generate captivating episodes on the subject for the new season. It was simply too humorless and often times grim...not exactly in keeping with the flippant and sometimes inappropriate main character they had worked so hard to create. There was even consideration given to cancelling the series altogether. The intended story line was no longer there.

However, meetings were held, story lines were pitched and negotiations were made resulting in the network honchos agreeing to another season. The writers have been collaborating over how to reintroduce our protagonist. Obviously the character we all know and love (it's my story here so I am going with the assumption we all love our diva) has changed. Still wanting to tap into her spirit and spunk, they have been working diligently to craft stories that meld the two sides of her personality...the old, naive, believe-life-will-go-on-forever side with the new, more-aware-than-ever-life-can-bite-you-in-the-ass-and-end-tomorrow side.

One aspect of seasons past that will be carried forward into the new season is what we will call the "curve ball effect". Just when you think our heroine is safe and you are sure of her intended course, a curve ball is throw in to stir things up and the plot begins to thicken. As with all good dramas, the viewers (and quite frankly the heroine herself) are left wondering what will happen next.

When we last left our warrior princess, she had just come face to face with her worries regarding her recent health battles and the fear of a recurrence. Knowing she would no longer be visiting her team of medical doctors on a monthly basis, she felt she was stepping into uncharted waters without a life vest. As the scene came to a close, we were left with the impression she would be venturing back into the world of "normal" where medical issues were not the pressing order of the day. She was choosing to speed forward with a renewed sense of living life to the fullest, leaving her fears in the dust all the while shouting "Cancer be damned!"

But our writers found that boring.

It was time to up their game and interject more frenzy and fuss to the picture. It was time to stir things up.

Here is a recap of our most recent episode:

Our opening scene begins with our leading lady making a four hour drive to the infamous Duke Medical Center for a second opinion regarding continued treatments of her life-saving drug Herceptin. Duke's resident expert, Dr. "B", strongly encouraged her to discontinue Herceptin. The benefits of continuing were not proven yet the risks to her heart were great. A suggestion was made to consider enrolling in a clinical trial for a new drug, Neratinib. This drug would offer many of the same benefits of Herceptin without the heart risks. The downside is the drug is not yet approved by the FDA and the protocol of the trial only allows a 50/50 chance of receiving the drug over a placebo.

Very little thought was needed before the decision was made to follow Dr. "B's" advice. With her mother and friend, "K", to keep her company, our heroine embarked on a day of scans and tests to verify her eligibility to participate in the trial. The trio of characters arrived at the Medical Center at 7:30 am and didn't leave until 11:00 pm. It made for a long, exhausting day. An enormous amount of information relating to the prevention of another encounter with the "c" beast was also offered up by Dr. "B". It was overwhelming but reassuring. As we cut to commercial, the women set out on the long trek home in the wee morning hours with a sense of hope and peace that only comes from hearing what you want to hear.

The next few days were a whirlwind of phone calls and online searches. Decisions needed to be made regarding an additional procedure and the changing of a maintenance drug. More tests were to be performed on the original biopsy and a nutritionist needed to be contracted as a new member of the show-cancer-who's-boss team.

Things seemed to be going well until... all hearts stopped and the background music swelled as a phone call came suggesting changes had been found on the recent MRI! What had been the source of her most recent fears could quite possibly be reality...the cancer may have returned. With a weekend to wait for the final results of the current MRI, our heroine made the decision to dig in her heels and not let fear control her. She had given cancer the finger once...she could certainly do it again.

The episode ends with the news that all is well...it had been a false alarm. No significant changes were found in the MRI. We fade to black as our star lifts her eyes to the sky and offers prayers of thanksgiving.

Tune in next time to see how the clinical trial affects our champion (another word I'm loving) and to witness her fate as she begins her new life as a survivor!

A Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Moment

2011-09-27T11:13:00.004-04:00

Last week I had my "last" appointment with my oncologist. Technically, it was the last appointment related to my year long course of treatment. Semi-annual follow up appointments are my new norm. Due to the nature of my cancer, I don't think I will officially be free of Dr. "W" until...like...well...never. Yet when I left his office last week, I did so without having an exact return date.

A first in over a year.

My next appointment won't be for 6 months which is far enough into the future they could not schedule my appointment at this time. While I'm sure this doesn't sound unreasonable to most, to a cancer fighting chica six months is an eternity.

Since the end of August last year I have had 116 cancer related medical appointments. How do I know?

I counted.

And that was only those recorded on my company calendar. There were several not posted during my absence after surgery. Who knows what the true number is. Considering the ginormous amount of poking and prodding I received over the course of a year one would think I would be thrilled to be released back into the world of only-go-to-the-doctor-when-you-feel-like-you-are-gonna-die.

But I wasn't thrilled. Something was nagging me and it wasn't a pleasant feeling.

After chatting it up with Dr. "W" and being informed I was a free woman, at least for a while, I did what I always do...climbed in the car for the 20 minute drive home. This post-appointment commute time is always reserved for processing all the information thrown at me during my most recent visit. It is used to focus on the positive and for directing my attention to the remaining battles to be fought. However this time things were different. My commute was cut short. Why?

I fell apart.

No amount of "processing" could prevent the tidal wave of tears that began to flow from my eyes. The flood gates had opened. I had a meltdown to rival all meltdowns. Unable to drive, I pulled into the first empty parking space I could find at a nearby grocery store and cried like never before. It was such an ugly cry too. One complete with runny nose, heaving sobs and hiccups. As I sat in the parking lot, wailing like a baby, the only thought running through my mind was...

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?!?

In other words...

WTF?!?!?

Before we go any further, I need to explain the significance of the above obscenity. I'm one of those who rarely uses the "f" word. I'm not saying that makes me bigger or better than anyone who does. It just isn't my go-to-swear word. Trust that I do spew forth a few curse words from time to time...my most favorite being shit. And I say it with a true country girl twang. So it sounds more like "sh-ee-et"...all long and drawn out. I've tried to train myself to say it in a more refined way but it just ain't gonna happen. When cussing, my country roots are hard-wired into my system with no means to over-ride them.

I also would be lying if I said I've never dropped the "f" bomb because I have. Most often in times of great distress. Yet even with obvious times of "great distress" such as divorce and cancer being a part of my past, I still haven't used the word that often. So...when my only thought was WTF, I knew something was seriously wrong. My reaction was completely unexpected. For the life of me I could not figure out what was the source of my anxiety. Should I not be happy my journey through hell was over?

Again...Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?!?!?

Once I squeezed out every single tear I could possibly muster up, my mind cleared enough for me to see the reason for my sob fest.

I was afraid.

And rightfully so. No longer would I be under a doctor's watchful eye. I would be on my own for 6 long months. Sure...that doesn't sound like such a great deal of time before my next check in for a check up. But the fact remains that last year I went from a clean mammogram to full-blown stage 3 cancer in 8 short...very short...months. The thought of what could happen during these 6 months was more than I could take.

When my battle began, the "c" beast tried to catch me unaware. It craftily worked its wiles without so much as a hint of its existence. When it attacked, it came fully prepared to be make a BIG statement in spite of me doing my part to avoid its invasion or at least arrest the rogue cells early.

I did annual mammograms.

I did self-exams.

I was very aware of my body.

I had done all we are told to do for early detection. Yet none of this prevented the onslaught of an aggressive enemy determined to take me out. I did not catch the "c" creature in its early stages. It had won the first battle with a surprise attack...a fact I could not deny. A fact I had not really considered until now. Thoughts swirled around the question of what if the slain beast resurrects itself. It was time to deal with the horrific thought that the cancer could come back.

No cancer fighting warrior wants to believe the battle is not yet over...or even worse...that they may eventually lose the fight. But the hard cold truth is that a recurrence could happen. Cancer is a formidable opponent. Until a cure is found, it can and will win at times. This past year alone, I lost two very dear friends to this monster. Both battled breast cancer. Both were young. Both did everything they could to fight. But they lost. And my heart is broken.

I am well aware of the severity of my situation and I intend to give it the respect it deserves. But I refuse to give it anything more than that. My time in the grocery store parking lot left me with a lot more than a red nose and puffy eyes. When I shifted my car into drive and headed home, I did so with a new resolve to enjoy the moment. To live today with no fear of tomorrow. Cancer claimed this past year of my life. For now, I am cancer free. Why in the world should I give the horrid "c" creature one more second than is needed to obliterate it from my being?

I am alive.

And I'm going to live.

I will not give in to my fears of what could or could not happen. I will enjoy each day without a worry of what tomorrow will bring.

In other words...

I drove home with a smile on my face for I felt I had found the perfect way to tell cancer to "F(oxtrot) off"!

When a 1/2-Inch Isn't Exactly a 1/2-Inch

2011-09-19T06:00:00.010-04:00

So...

They say hair grows at the rate of a 1/2-inch per month. While not considered a substantial amount, when comparing "no hair" to a 1/2-inch of hair, I'll take what I can get and be happy for it.

Before losing my hair and many times after, I did numerous google searches on hair growth. I consider myself a true "google girl" because I google anything and everything. Knowing I was about to become a baldy prompted many online queries on hair in general. The consensus regarding growth rate was exactly as stated above. So when I read to expect 1/2-inch growth, I expected exactly that...1/2-inch each month. And who would blame me for believing?

I got my info from the internet.

And we all know the world wide web doesn't lie?

Bahhaha!

In all my research, no one stated the 1/2-inch would be given to me with conditions. Actually, I'm stretching the truth just a bit. Exceptions and conditions were given...I just didn't want to believe them....I wanted to hang onto the hope of getting my 1/2-inch of hair each month! You know, positive thinking at its finest. But just like everything in life, there are exceptions to every rule.

One condition mentioned is the medication I'm taking could hinder normal growth. Given this drug is saving my life...well...I guess you can see why this growth inhibitor is pretty easy to accept. Another relates to my overall health. Okay...I just went head to head with Stage 3 cancer. I'm thinking my overall health hasn't been exactly working in my favor. And still another rests on the amount of rest I'm getting. Does that mean I need to slow down and smell the roses? I have yet to master that one. Rest isn't in my vocabulary. Factor in stress and the fact we are all "unique individuals with differing growth rates", I can't help but wonder why "they" ever made the 1/2-inch promise to begin with? Like...don't we all experience stress? And just who are "they" anyway?

Chemo ended February 4th. It is now September 19th. That is just over 7 months (7-1/2 months to be exact). I should have 3-1/2 inches of hair (technically 3-3/4 inches). No?

But I don't.

I have just over 2 inches.

Guess I'm one of those "unique individuals with a differing growth rate".

Mind you, I'm not complaining. I'm actually enjoying the process. If you had told me I would have uttered those words prior to losing my hair, I would have laughed in your face. But things have changed for me. I used to find my state of being all wrapped up in the kind of hair day I was experiencing. A good hair day meant an overall good day...a bad hair day...well...that just sucked! Now my hair carries very little weight with regard to my disposition. It just isn't that important anymore.

That being said, I really do miss my long hair and you can bet I'm letting it grow at whatever rate it will grow, doing everything I can to accelerate the process, all in hopes of having long hair again. In the meantime, I'm working to embrace each growth phase...trying my darnedest to "rock" each "look" along the way.

But I have a point to make. Don't I always? I've stumbled upon another life lesson in the arena of hair growth. I know...I seriously over-analyze everything. A life lesson from hair??? Hmmm....

The point I want to make is simply this. We all get caught up in expectations and in so doing, we can sometimes miss the thrill of the ride. We are too busy looking for what we think we should be getting and find ourselves not enjoying what we have.

I'll go ahead and admit it...I do pull out the ruler each month to see how much my hair has grown. And I will continue to do so. Just so you know, watching hair grow is a clear reminder of the truth behind the saying "a watched pot never boils". Repeatedly measuring hair growth is a futile process. But I can't help myself....I'm anal that way. However, I no longer whine about how slow it is growing. Let's face it...it's only hair. I've been without and survived.. I think life will most certainly go on...

even if my 1/2-inch isn't exactly a 1/2-inch.

Met up with any unrealized expectations lately? If so, how did you handle them?

Faith Defined

2011-09-15T07:00:00.006-04:00

Faith can be a difficult thing to define. Then again, it can be quite simple. In a nutshell, faith is nothing more than a belief in something. Yet for me, it goes far beyond that. Faith is what gets me through each day. It is the guiding light that fills all the dark times. It provides the power that propels me forward when I feel like giving up. Without faith, I would be nothing.

Sometimes I get my inspiration for posts from the most unexpected places. The catalyst for this one came from an episode of "Millionaire Matchmaker". Okay. Okay. So I just admitted to watching some skanky TV. But believe it or not, a very powerful statement came from last week's marathon. (Ahem...I watched 3 episodes ...back to back...followed by an episode of "Dance Moms". .. and I would have watched "Russian Dolls"... but I had to work the next day and it was getting late. No need to judge me over my viewing choices...I already judge myself harshly enough...umkay?)

One of the millionaires was actually a nice guy. Unlike the other sex-crazed, douche bag featured, this guy seemed to have his shiz together. When Patti was quizzing him with regard to his preferences, he divulged past hurts. We could see ...and feel...the wounds of his broken heart. It was a totally "awww" moment. A rather unpredictable "sweetness" for a show that can be...okay...is... most often crude.

Then it happened. That knock-me-off-my-seat moment when a statement was made that caused a million light bulbs to go off in my head at once. Thank goodness for Ti-Vo as I had to replay the sentiment over and over lest I heard wrong. It was "Millionaire Matchmaker". No way in the world something this profound could be found amongst the smut. Yet there it was. An "aha" moment wrapped up in a neat little trash-TV package. This is the thought shared by the wounded, wealthy man.

"Don't pray for one to love. Pray to be ready for them when they come."

Now I'm not saying the likes of Patti Stanger is out there peddling faith wielding promos with her prime-time spot but I found this to be pretty inspiring. It is in keeping with the way my prayers have been going of late. Yes, people, even repulsive-but-sucks-you-in-anyway reality TV can offer a pearl of wisdom every now and again.

You see, a few weeks ago, I felt like my prayers were on auto-pilot. A feeling I often get. I seemed to be asking for the same things over and over again. I was getting tired of hearing myself so I knew God couldn't help but be bored to tears. However, nothing had changed. My requests were the same. Then one day as I began my litany of petitions, a thought hit me... right between the eyes. God heard me the first time I made my requests. And the second. And the third. And so on. And so on. What if I just accepted that He would answer my prayers in the way He sees fit... which is what I want anyway... and simply thank Him for what He is going to do?

In advance.

Because I believe in answered prayer and stuff like that.

You know...kinda like putting my faith to the test.

Scripture states the only way to make God happy is to have faith in Him. To trust Him. To seek Him. To believe He will never forsake those who seek Him. Well...not to sound all pious and such ...but I felt I had the "seeking" part down. What was missing was the faith. The belief that He will bring good things. That even in my darkest days when no answers are to be found, He is there offering hope that only comes from Him. He can and will bring me peace. People, I should know this! I've lived it this past year. Yet, there I was, not taking that additional "leap of faith".

Now much of my prayer time is praise time. And my days are much brighter as a result. I still have requests and I continue to seek Him in all things. But those circumstances that require time and patience are handled differently. I lay them out and let them go. Then I transition to a state of gratitude. Do I know how God will answer my prayers? Not at all. Do I believe He will? You bet. Just like the statement from the millionaire of last week's viewing pleasure, I'm no longer focused on asking for what I want. I now yearn to have a heart that is prepared to receive what is to come. For I know He has plans for me.

So I ask to be ready.

I thank Him in advance.

And life couldn't be better.

So tell me...what do you do to get out of a prayerful rut? Do you find it easy or difficult to believe God hears you?

A Resurrection

2011-09-12T09:34:00.004-04:00

Hello, dear blog friends! I'm back and oh how I've missed you! Life is finally returning to a somewhat normal state...depending on how you define normal...so I felt it high time I jump back on the blogging bus.

As you would assume, so much has happened during my time of silence. Much of it would be deemed blog worthy and then some of it not so much. For those who have been long time blog friends, you know I rarely label anything off limits when it comes to sharing here. Let's face it, a girl who writes about her fat feet, over-grown breasts, a nightmarish exam of her lady parts and random marathon pee sessions...well...I guess you could say there ain't much left to deem "private". But the journey I've been on has left me in a foreign land. One where I'm not sure of my feelings let alone understanding how to share them. One where fear, pain, hope and overwhelming gratitude reside side by side. I've been dwelling in a land of rediscovery... running in circles trying to settle into this "new world". I would be lying if I said the transition has been easy. But I can promise it has been worth the struggles.

The original purpose of this blog was to simply write about the changes brought about by children fleeing the nest and learning to navigate those changes as a single girl. That time of "life change" is over. Another curve ball called cancer was thrown my way. As the "c" devil came crashing in everything else seemed less important. It felt as if my old life was dead. So I buried it. Along with this blog.

Now...life has been resurrected. I'm on the other side. Living in a new world. And I want to share. So I'm resurrecting this spot in cyber space. I'm back with new stories. New insight. New perspectives. I hope you all will follow along as there is nothing to make a "new land" feel more like home than visits from old friends.

Happy Monday to you! Hope to see ya around!
-L

Does It Bear Repeating???

2011-05-06T11:26:00.009-04:00

It's Friday! My most favorite work day! Given the warmer temperatures and the fact it is a celebration Sunday, I'm especially looking forward to this weekend. Anyone else out there catch yourself wishing your life away by counting the minutes until the weekend begins? I'm working hard at not doing that...not wishing away a single precious moment. But I swear, it is really hard not to keep my eyes focused on Fridays.

Since I've been growling and grumbling over my recent run-in with writer's block and the guilt that comes with not posting frequently, I decided to take a different approach to the situation. I'm going to re-post an old post of mine in hopes of finding a hint of inspiration somewhere.

For most of you, this will be new crap...errr...material. Last year I started a separate, more private blog, where I recorded my dating adventures. I've decided to resurrect a post from way back when. That long-ago-almost-forgotten-although-it-was-only-months-ago time period when the "c" word was not part of my world.

Thanks to a gift of a now-one-of-my-most-favorite books from a special someone last week and because another super special someone gave me a Nook Color for my birthday, I've rekindled my love for reading. The gifts reminded me of the following post where I wrote about my long standing love affair with books and a comical occurrence during one of my visits to the book store.

Thanks for allowing me to stroll down memory lane and to those of you who were subjected to this with its original posting, please forgive the repeat performance.

Wishing you all a wonderful and most blessed weekend! -L

Thank You...I Think

Book stores are one of my loves. There's something about being surrounded by ink and paper that makes me smile. As I walk through the door, I feel a sense of peace yet excitement begins to pulse through my veins all at the same time. In my former life, when I seemed to have more time, I would wile away hours at Barnes & Noble. Often I could be found sitting in an aisle, books strewn all around me, deeply engrossed in story after story. Some days my passion would veer toward self-improvement manuals covering diet and fitness, fashion and relationships. Other days I would get lost in biographies, devouring details of the glamorous lives of others. I would log countless hours soaking up information on exotic locales, photography and art. I relished in technical manuals offering insight to web design, computer languages, accounting, marketing and small business ownership. Magazines were another source of entertainment. Stacks and stacks of periodicals would be precariously perched on the tiny table beside my tall-skinny-sugar-free-mocha-with-light-whip and I would flip through page after page concocting plans to incorporate the info from each article into my little world.

Knowledge is power. And books provide knowledge. For me, they also offer an escape. A way to vicariously live another life. To dream of bigger and better. They provide a window into worlds I will never experience. Books are my friends.

During all my visits to my most favorite haunt, I have never been approached by other customers. It is a time of solitude...something I expect and treasure. I never considered it a place for socializing. It is too difficult to start a conversation with someone totally engrossed in the written word. But last night was different. As I drove home from work, I had a sudden urge to visit my "friends". Given a lengthy list of chores awaiting me at home, the idea of losing myself among the pages of a craftily written tale was more than enticing.

Per my usual, I roamed the aisles gathering book after book then made my way to a vacant chair to begin my escape. It wasn't until I received a call from Keri that I noticed him. A guy sitting several feet away...and staring. I looked from side to side and behind assuming he most certainly would not be looking at me. But I was situated in a corner with nothing but walls of books surrounding me. Yes, I was the target of his stare. I politely smiled, continued my phone conversation then returned to my stories.

As I continued to sort through my selections, I began to have an eerie feeling come over me. Mr. Gazer kept staring...a strange, unsettling stare. After several minutes, I decided to move to another location in the store. And he followed. Thinking I was being paranoid, I did my best to stay focused on the task at hand but the stares continued. Mr. Gazer was ruining my mini-vacation. It was time to go home.

I quickly gathered my things and started to make my way toward the escalator. Mr. Gazer also stood to leave...but went the opposite direction. Breathing a sigh of relief, I emitted a tiny chuckle thinking I had been silly in my assumptions. I began to relax as I turned the final corner of the bookshelf maze and literally ran right into him.

Working to gather my composure, I tried to make my way around him but he was intent on striking up a conversation, yet he allowed no room for me to respond. Here is a recounting of his one-sided dialog...

"Do you know you are cute? Who does your hair? You really have a kissable face. You must be in real estate. I think you probably workout. Do you do lunges? You appear to have strong legs. I've been watching you and judging you, wondering if you are a good person. I often do that...evaluate the goodness of strangers. Your makeup is done just so...you did it right today. You are together but unapproachable. You must have been through a lot in your life. I just had to tell you I think you are cute. Did I say you have a kissable face...so, so cute. You remind me of my dog. Do you hike? Camp? Mountain Bike?"

I was rendered speechless. Didn't matter. He only wanted to hear himself talk. I finally asked with widened eyes and eyebrows raised, "So I look like your dog???" He smiled and continued with his monologue. I wanted to leave but my feet wouldn't move. Besides, I was somewhat trapped by the positioning of his body. I could turn and return the way I had come but my mind didn't register that thought at the time. I believe I was in shock. My escape came with the ringing of my phone. I muttered a half-hearted explanation that the call was important and pushed my way past him.

My question is this...was he for real? Did I fall prey to a sick pick up line? Did he truly think I would be flattered with his comments? And more importantly...do I really look like a dog???????????? *sigh* Well, at least I can console myself with the fact I'm cute and kissable.

The Silence Is Deafening...

2011-05-02T13:27:00.004-04:00

I'm referring to this blog. My silence. On this here blog.

Oh how I want to write. How I need to write.

And I've tried.

I've sat at my computer...fingers poised and ready to type...and then...

Nothing.

All I get is nothing. How can that be? My mind is teeming with stories and thoughts that beg to be written. And still...

Nothing.

It isn't only here that I struggle. I rarely visit Facebook these days. And when I do, I can't even string a few words together to generate a status update. Or comment on the quips of others.

Emails sit in my inbox awaiting a reply. I've read them all. Then left them there. The number grows daily. And yet I do nothing.

Thank you notes are another issue. I have so many to write. I've been overwhelmed by the generosity of friends, family and even complete strangers. How can I not express my gratitude? I can't begin to count the times I've sat down with pen in hand and attempted to write a note of appreciation. Yet as with all other things requiring my cognitive skills these days, I simply get...

Nothing.

The silence is deafening. "Quiet" is not my style. It isn't a good thing. It has left me feeling empty and even worse...feeling guilty. But for now I can only say it is what it is.

In looking back over what I just wrote, it sounds as if I'm leaning toward being depressed...in need of medication. At the very least, it sounds like I need to drown my sorrows in a few drinks. But that's not the case. Not even close. I'm just suffering serious writer's block. Serious with a super-duper capital "S"!

I know a day is coming soon when life will return to normal. A time when my thoughts are no longer consumed with how to merge two full-time "jobs" and do them both justice. My normal 9 to 5 is anything but 9 to 5. I come in late. I leave early. I work all night. All this is done in an attempt to maintain the status quo and continue to earn my keep. All this is done because medical treatments, doctor's appointments and overall general health care are sucking up the remaining hours of my day.

However, the light at the end of the tunnel is in sight. Radiation has begun and should go quickly. Then life can begin to return to "normal"...whatever "normal" is.

Things have changed. They had to. And they will most likely change again. And again. And yet again. And that's okay. I just hope I can eventually get back to writing.

I miss it.

I don't believe this over-the-top-opinionated-chatter-box was ever meant to be silent.

A Holiday of Hope

2011-04-22T10:11:00.007-04:00

This day, Good Friday, marks the beginning of a series of historical events planned to bring us hope.

To bring us life.

With the darkness of death came the light of salvation.

May you all find the peace and hope this holiday brings...

Happy Easter!

Restless Soul

2011-04-18T20:00:00.002-04:00

This is me right now.

A restless soul.

And I don't know why.

Life is really good.

I'm easing into a new norm.

Steadily busy.

No major ups or downs.

So why the unrest?

When I dig deep I find the answer.

I need to write.

All that I've experienced these past 8 months is struggling to find it's way out.

Consider this fair warning of what's to come.

No rhyme or reason to my posts.

No consistent thought pattern to follow.

Simply me...

recording my life...

my life as a cancer patient.

Until then...

"Story of My Life"

2011-04-01T15:34:00.002-04:00

Stopping by to share my favorite song of late...recently rediscovered my love for Bon Jovi. I didn't even know I had so many Bon Jovi songs on the ol' Ipod. Call me crazy, but I'm totally unaware of what songs are actually on my Ipod. More often than not, when relying on the genius of Apple technology for my listening pleasure, I catch myself saying

"Wow! Didn't know I had THAT song. Too cool!"

I then proceed to hit the replay button time and time again.

That's the beauty of being technologically challenged...you rely on others to load your Ipod for you and then receive the benefit of all the musical surprises!

This song happens to be the current one on repeat status. The words are so fitting for how I feel in this given moment. I've included the lyrics beneath the video...hope you enjoy!!!

"Story Of My Life"

Yesterdays a memory
Another page in history
You sell yourself on hopes and dreams
That leaves you feeling sideways.
Tripping over my own feet
Trying to walk to my own beat
Another car out on the street trying to find the Highway
Yeah, Are you going my way?

[Chorus]
This is the story of my life
And I write it everyday
I know it isn't black and white
And it's anything but grey
I know that no I'm not alright, but I feel ok cos
Anything can, everything can happen
That's the story of my life

I'm gonna write the melody
That's gonna make history,
And when I paint my masterpiece I swear I'll show you first
There just ain't a way to see who and why or what will be
Till now is then
It's a mystery, it's a blessing and a curse
Or something worse

[Chorus]

This is the story of my life
And I write it everyday,
And I hope you're by my side when I'm writing the last page

[Chorus x2]

It's About Time...

2011-02-02T06:00:00.002-05:00

to update my blog. Almost 2 full months have passed since my last update. I've been known to disappear from the cyber scene from time to time but I believe this is my most lengthy hiatus.

It's about time...

for some good news. Recent scans have shown that chemo is doing it's "thang"! No active cancer cells registered! Woo to the hoo and back again!!!

It's about time...

to say goodbye to chemo once and for all. Exactly 5 months ago today I had my first treatment. Tomorrow I will receive my last!

It's about time...

to get back to the land of the living. Not that I ever totally left. But I'm ready to reclaim some free time.

It's about time...

to get back to living at warp speed. To get about the business of creating a life full of adventure.

It's about time...

for me to get back to being me...

Really...

It's about time!!!

Dearest Me,

2010-12-08T06:00:00.003-05:00

Well, it seems you are in a place you never expected to be. A recurring theme for you, I know. How can it be you are so sick when you feel so well? You do realize how sick you are, right? Me thinks you may be living in a land where sickness is not an option...where sunshine and roses are the order of the day. Not that I'm judging you. It's what has seen you through so far. In fact, it's what I like most about you... your ability to block out the negative in order to remain positive... your refusal to take this lying down. But I think we've reached the point where it's time to be honest. Time to look at the ugly and accept it in all its ugliness. Time to wake up and smell the pungent aroma of this nasty thing called cancer. Time to realize you are on a journey...one that starts with a "c" and ends with pretty scary stuff. Don't be afraid. Acceptance is a good thing. Recognizing the severity of your situation will validate the rough stuff ahead. All the changes about to occur are necessary for survival. And you are a survivor...I won't let you be anything less.

You are moving right along. Depending on how you count it, you are almost through the first leg of your journey. When measured by time, you are only a little more than half way through chemo but it feels as if you are much further along...thirteen of sixteen treatments are behind you. Chemo is close to being a thing of the past. You've weathered it well. Now that you are nearing the end and looking ahead to what will come next, I can sense the panic rising. Take a deep breath and let's talk it out.

Surgery. The day you walk into the hospital the you you've always known but leave something far different. I will not lie. It is going to be challenging. Knowing what will be taken from you...well...it won't be easy. You will cry. You must allow yourself to mourn. Fear, doubt and disgust will rush to the surface. You won't want to look at yourself. Yet you must. This will be the beginning of a new you. What you do, how you react, where you let it take you will be a choice. I've been listening to the cries of your heart. I know your greatest fear is that you will not be able to accept the changes. That you will in some way revert to the "old you" that never felt adequate. The you that believed you were always less than. But you must remember that was the "old you". The you that didn't understand the peace that comes with self-acceptance. The you that was always looking outward for affirmation rather than looking within. The you that worried about the opinions of others. That girl is no more. She grew up. She learned how to live. She found peace. She found happiness. She finally realized that while she would always value the opinion of others, she valued her opinion of herself more. That is who you are. That is who you worked so hard to become. That is who you will always be.

Today is the day to begin the healing process of your tomorrow. No need to wait until the "ugly" is staring you in the face. Your body is strong and will most likely heal quickly. Your mind is equally strong. Embrace the fact you truly love yourself. You understand what it means to accept your strengths and your weaknesses. You know you fall far short of perfect and you realize that is perfectly okay. Believe in yourself. Refuse to listen to self-doubt and negativity. Focus on the fact that you have come so far. Rely on your faith and keep your eyes always upward. For if you do, you will be just fine...

In Search of My Big Girl Panties

2010-12-03T06:00:00.007-05:00

This week has left me figuratively digging deep in drawer after drawer, flailing about in an imaginary sea of not-quite-right undershorts, as I look for my freshest pair of big girl bloomers. Round two of chemo has begun and it is definitely time to "put my big girl panties on and just deal with it".

Heading into this week I was a bit anxious. The unknown does that to me. I suppose it does it to everyone. Feeling I had "mastered" the routine of round one's weekly treatments, I was apprehensive about the changes coming with round two. I knew the drugs I would receive would be heavy hitters and my physicians, as well as "K", had done a terrific job of educating me on what to expect. But you never really know how bad it will be until you have experienced it first hand.

Today marks day 5 in this 21 day cycle. Five days of almost constant nausea. Three days spent in a comatose state. Two days of bone pain. Neuropathy from round one has the nerves in my fingers on high alert. The slightest touch can create the feeling of a not-so-pleasant electrical current running up my arm. To complicate matters, the drugs given to alleviate the side effects of chemo have side effects of their own...the worst being severe dizziness.

That's the bad news. The good news is this. The nausea is tolerable. While I've spent many precious moments cozying up to the porcelain throne, I have yet to toss my cookies. Three days of abundant sleep have cured any and all feelings of exhaustion carried over from round one's incessant insomnia. The bone pain is also tolerable. Colder temperatures aggravate the issue but pain relievers do a good job of counteracting the problem. The issue of neuropathy is what it is. Fortunately, it will eventually go away and I see marked improvement each day. The dizziness? Well, the only up side to it is pure, unadulterated comedy. Everyone, including me, is having a grand time watching as I stumble into one thing after another. What can I say? You gotta laugh when you can.

So there it is. My record of the beginning of this half of chemotherapy. It isn't a picnic and it definitely ain't no party. But I can certainly deal. My search was successful and I'm armed with my big girl underpants. By the way, I bypassed the thong and bikini versions and went straight for the granny panty variety. I figured I could use all the help I could get.

In The Dark Of Night...

2010-11-10T11:30:00.007-05:00

the demons come.

they invade my thoughts...

threatening my peace...

ravaging my heart...

dominating my mind...

devouring my happiness.

i whisper of their existence

reluctant to give them a voice.

they haunt me.

they mock me.

they are my enemy.

but HE is the answer.

i cry out to HIM.

HE is my rescue

my SALVATION.

with the sound of HIS VOICE the demons retreat in fear.

HE restores my peace...

my heart can rest

and slumber finds me.

Squeezing Life's Lemons

2010-11-04T13:00:00.005-04:00

We all know the old saying, "When Life Gives You Lemons...". And of course, we have all puckered up from time to time as life tends to give us all a lemon or two every now and again. In an attempt to be helpful, some of us can be all too eager to toss out the old adage to anyone facing life's struggles as if by making the assertion sour will suddenly become sweet. This statement is positive thinking at its finest. And who doesn't want to be positive. But sometimes the lemons being served up are well past their prime and it is impossible to turn rotten fruit into any kind of tasty concoction. No amount of sugar by way of positivity will mask the nastiness. You simply must hold your nose and choke it down...sometimes chugging one glass right after another. These are times when you know beyond a shadow of a doubt you are getting the short end of life's happy stick.

I guess cancer could qualify as one of those moments. It would by no means be a stretch to say cancer equals one tall glass of barf juice...juice from the most rotten lemons. Having a flask of this foul but potable liquid shoved in my hand, I had no choice but to swill, swig and swallow. Here is where it gets interesting. I have a major gag reflex. Try as I might to chug-a-lug, all I did was heave and hurl. I decided it was time to protest. To kick up my heels and revolt. Not willing to drink alone, I called in the troops. Life's libations are more easily tolerated when shared with friends. If nothing else, they could administer CPR lest I begin to drown in my own regurgitation.

I've written much bemoaning the loss of my hair...another sour, rotten, old lemon. I will not lie. I hated the idea of being bald. Yet after throwing a fit or two over the unfairness of it all, I began to feel better. One point to note, do you not find it interesting how ugly begets ugly? Not only would I be poisoned in an attempt to banish cancer cells from my being, but my appearance was going to take a side trip to the land of grotesque. I was forewarned of all to come....mottled skin, broken (if not loss of) nails, puffiness, weight gain (every girl's nightmare) and of course the mother of all horrors... total loss of hair. And by total hair loss, they meant hair on head, eye lashes, eye brows, hair on legs...although this one is by no means a negative. You learn to miss hair you didn't even realize you had. But I eventually came to terms with it. What the heck. It's only hair and it will grow back. Besides, I received some good news. My course of treatment would allow me to "keep" my hair through the first 12 weeks of treatment. Three months as a baldy was WAY better than six. The first round of chemo would only cause my hair to thin and only to the point of being noticeable by me.

Well, "Life" must have gotten wind of the insurgency to come and planned its own form of retaliation leaving me hairless from the get-go. Leave it to me to be different. To experience side effects unlike the norm. Always marching to the beat of my own drum, I must say this was one time it would have been nice to have been a conformist. Seeing this as only a minor set-back and by no means interpreting it as a battle lost, I forged ahead with my plans to laugh in cancer's face...literally. What did I do? I took my jar of "jungle juice" and threw a party. I called it my "Buzz Me, Baby" party. With friends and family to witness the moment and my sister to "do the deed", I took control of the uncontrollable and shaved my head. Suddenly, the bitter elixir forced upon me became sweet. With every laugh and embrace, my happy stick grew by enormous proportions and I had an overwhelming urge to extract more juice from the lemons. Rather than throw the yellow orbs back out into the universe, I was ready to squeeze the life out of them giving me lemonade to spare.

That night tears were shed and laughs were shared. It was a night filled with bittersweet moments. A night of making the sour sweet. Just so you know, I do believe when life gives you lemons you should make lemonade. It may not always be as simple as "add sugar, water and stir" but I'm proof it can be done. Maybe not on your own, but as another old saying/song goes "I get by with a little help from my friends". As corny as this may sound, when life shoves lemons in your face, let the love of family and friends be your sugar and laughter be your "stir stick". Dilute the bitterness with faith and house it all in a pitcher of prayer. Everything...and I do mean everything...goes down easier when following this recipe.

With love always,
-L

Coming Soon...

2010-10-29T06:00:00.000-04:00

...updates, photos, deep thoughts, randomness, hilarity...all things "me" will be coming your way very soon.

Chemo treatments are going well but weekly treatments have wrecked havoc on my routine. I've actually been writing posts like a crazy woman but never seem to finish any of them. My biggest excuse is drug induced brain fog. Friday has become chemo day and the weekend is commited to recovery. On those days, due to the drugs I take, I have been known to speak nonsense, continually repeat statements as I remember very little and in the process keep everyone entertained. I intentionally avoid writing on these days. The spoken word can sometimes be forgotten or an argument can be made that disputes any statement made. It becomes a matter of "your word against their's". In other words, you stand a chance of lying your way out of just about anything verbal. Putting thoughts in black and white makes them more permanent and leaves undenialable proof that you may have temporarily lost your mind. I fear these incidences could come back to haunt me. Anything written on those days requires extra time and attention for proofreading. That leaves Monday through Thursday as days to accomplish all necessary tasks. I'm learning that cramming a 5 day work week into those 4 days can be draining. Add attempted daily workouts, required personal paperwork and the occasional load of laundry and you can see why my time for writing posts has become so limited.

Documenting this journey is very important to me. Blogging...writing... has always been and will continue to be my therapy. But life must be lived. So...if you are interested in reading my blatherings, check back from time to time. I'm beginning to get a handle on things (bah ha ha) and will be posting again very soon.

Before I go, I want to share a "????" moment I had while receiving one of my latest treatments. It validates my reasons for refusing to permanently document anything while in a drug induced state.

A "Did I really just say that?" occurrence:

Believe it or not, I welcome Fridays. Friday is treatment day. My reasons for embracing this day with open arms are simple to me yet some might find them odd. Then again, many find me odd in general. My number one reason is a much needed 3-4 hour nap. I've found the most annoying side effect of chemo to be the inability to sleep. Until a week ago, the most consistent sleep I got was during my treatments. I've since discovered a way to ensure a good night's rest giving me much more energy and an overall feeling of "wellness". Even still, who doesn't love a good nap. A mega dose of Benadryl via IV accompanied by Ativan takes me directly to dreamland. Within 10 minutes of the meds coursing through my veins, I'm a goner. Friends and family take turns transporting me to and fro each week and we always share a few laughs over statements and proclamations made during those 10 minutes. I rapidly descend from reasonably normal mental faculties to those somewhere close to what is considered deranged. The interesting part is in spite of my inability to govern what I say, there is a part of my mind that is able to comprehend and remember the absurdity of it all. Even as I make my nonsensical statements, in the deep dark recesses of my mind I'm asking myself "What the heck???".

In addition to all the drugs, treatments require I be given large quantities of fluids. As we know, "fluid in" means "fluid out". My naps are always interrupted by the need to relieve my bladder of the enormous burden. Ever the independent girl, I argue with anyone wanting to help me find my way to the restroom. I stubbornly and drunkenly navigate my way through the chairs of other patients, dragging my IV tower along, doing my very best to focus on not tripping over the wheels of the tower or my own two feet. Most days I succeed. How I actually maneuver the act of "going potty"...well, I don't really know. What I do know is that I perform the act with my eyes closed. And it is dark when my eyes are closed. So very, very dark. So much so that I made this proclamation to gal pal, "K" upon returning to my chair.

"Have you ever closed your eyes and realized how dark it is? So dark that the dark actually touches your eyeballs? I mean you can actually feel the dark touching your eyeball! Like the dark is sitting on your eye!"

The words were said with much excitement and conviction as I was sure I had just discovered something unique and grand. Let's just say the words were said with as much excitement and conviction as can be exhibited through slurred speech. I remember "K" chuckling while my mind waged an internal war over whether or not this made any kind of sense. The "real me" kept urging me to shut up and stop the insanity as I know I'm not that dense while the "drugged me" thought it was the most profound statement ever made. I didn't know whether to pout because I wasn't being taken seriously or to hide my head in shame. Before a decision could be made, the mental war was over and I was fast asleep once again.

This is but one of the tiny things that keeps me laughing each day. I believe the ability to laugh at oneself is the key to a happy life. Thank goodness I find myself funny whether anyone else does or not. I guess that means I can relate to my own sense of humor. For now, I can chalk up my self-induced chuckles to the effects brought on by drugs. Not sure what excuse I will use when chemo isn't part of my daily life.

Until next time...

-L

Impact

2010-10-11T14:01:00.007-04:00

I've been thinking. I know...thinking can sometimes prove to be an unsettling thing, especially when faced with a major life crisis. This time, my thinking has proven to be a positive. The past few days I've been sifting through blog posts from the past year or so, curious as to where I've been... what I've learned.... spending time reminiscing and doing a little self-evaluation. Amongst the stories of my crazy antics and tales of woe, I stumbled upon a gem of a post. In fact, it was so meaningful I want to revisit the topic.

Roughly a year ago, I wrote a post based on a prompt from one of my best blog pals, "h.b.". Through various prompts and challenges, "h.b." laid the ground work for us to do some soul searching in an attempt to think about who we are and where we are going. Being the deep thinking, soul searching type, I jumped in with both feet and participated in many of the challenges. My favorite prompt explored the subject of touching people's lives...it's not who you touch but how. I suppose it is more than fair to say being diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer causes one to consider their role in this world. "Have I...do I...make a difference?" Now there is a question. Even in that soul searching, cancer free moment of a year ago, I dug really deep with this one and poured my heart out in these words:

"We all have them. Those times that forever leave a mark on our hearts...our souls...our being. Be it a good or bad time, it shapes and molds the person we become. Much of the impact it has on us is defined by how we approach that moment and the choices we make regarding it. I've had many such moments. Big, huge, earth moving moments. Marriage, children, divorced parents...a divorced me. Children moving away and then returning. The death of someone very dear. Some of these were cause for celebration and others were the cause of much pain. But through them all, I learned more about me and became stronger and hopefully wiser as a result.

But not all defining moments are as enormous in size. There are also the little things that can affect us. Little chance moments such as an encounter with another person that leave us with a life lesson all because we crossed paths. There can be inspiring moments of awe and wonder. And there can be misunderstandings or misguided intentions that leave us in a position to choose how we will move forward and whether or not we will allow it to cause harm or good to a relationship.

Lately I have been facing many defining moments. Times that are testing my character and my strength. I'm facing decisions that are almost impossible to make as there is really no good answer. Some days I feel victorious in these situations and other days leave me struggling to not feel defeat. But I am most thankful for these trying times. I know that even on the down days, I am building strength. God has given me the ability to rise above by trusting in Him. And I'm learning with each test and working harder to be a more positive influence."

How odd that I seem to be in much the same position now as I was then. It is exactly as they say...oh how things change yet they somehow stay the same. At that time I faced difficult decisions...they were my defining moments. Now, I'm in a battle for my life...probably the most defining moment anyone could face. The big question is how will this defining moment impact my world?

Every day... every moment... I get to chose how I will tackle this challenge. I have a choice in how I live... how I fight... how I love. I believe my decisions will in some way impact others. If nothing more, they will leave a mark on those who love me and are fighting along side me. I can only hope to be a positive influence. To make a difference in some tiny way. I have no idea what that difference will be or how it will happen. It could come through a chance encounter or it could be much more significant. Whatever it is, I want to be mindful of the fact that each and every decision I make could in some way impact another. When reflecting on past moments and opportunities, I recall many with feelings of happiness ...others I relive with shame and regret. Those are the ones I wish I could call for a do-over as I feel certain I wasn't the positive influence I desire to be. But I have a chance to be different. To be better. To use this challenge I face for something good. I'm hoping to take a negative and make a positive. I want to make a difference.

Mom, Is That Mastectomy With An "M"???

2010-10-04T10:00:00.003-04:00

Before going further, I must issue a statement to my daughter.

Sweet Ker-bear, I hope you don't mind that I share your story. It is too cute for words. I know you possess an incredible ability to laugh at yourself so I feel certain you will approve of my decision to share. Thank you for the laughter! Love, Mom

My diagnosis came on a Thursday evening. I didn't share the news with Keri until Saturday. Those were two REALLY long days. I refused to tell her over the phone and there was no chance to make the 3-hour drive to Georgia until Saturday. My mom, sister and I drove to Athens and broke the news. As expected, tears were shed and many questions were posed. But Keri is her mother's daughter. It wasn't long before she found a way to deal...to do her own compartmentalizing and strategizing. She began writing (yes, my baby girl has her very own blog) and set about training for 5k races to support Breast Cancer Awareness. It's her way of being proactive...of doing something.

Several weeks later, the news that had rocked our worlds had settled into the role of old news. Keri was home for a visit and we were sharing idle chit-chat. It was during this time I had one of the best giggles of my life. This is the jest of the story she shared...

Keri is like me in more ways than one. One particular trait we share is being Chatty Cathy's. We share what's on our minds with any and all who will listen. Talking is our therapy. We are open books. When she was in the early stages of processing the ugliness of the "c" stuff, she was telling numerous friends at school all about my diagnosis. She told them I would receive 6 months of chemo and would then receive a full vasectomy...

Uhhh, yep, my girl got the slicing and dicing of certain body parts mixed up! She had me slated to undergo a procedure I don't think I'm equipped to receive. The best part of the story is she shared this with several people before someone finally corrected her. I wonder if those who didn't correct her did so because of their own misunderstanding or if they were simply too kind to correct her when she was obviously under such duress? All I can say is she now knows the difference between the snipping and clipping of one body part and the removal of another...she now knows it's mastectomy with an "M"!!!

Getting Down To Business

2010-09-29T22:29:00.011-04:00

The verdict was in and I was found guilty. Of what I'm not exactly certain but I had been issued the life sentence of cancer so guilt of some sort was surely mine. That was my initial thinking. I was plagued by irrational thoughts that kept me wondering what I had done to bring this on myself. The mental volley being played out in my mind was exhausting. The what-if's and woulda-shoulda-coulda's nagged at me incessantly. What if I had eaten a cleaner diet? Could I have avoided this if I had not given into my love of all things chocolate? Should I have reduced my caffeine consumption? Why the heck did I have to learn to love coffee? Maybe I could have exercised more? What about my pleasurable partaking of alcoholic beverages? Not to mention any other pleasurable partakings... should I have avoided them all together? Maybe I had one cranberry and vodka too many? What if I had been a better person? Maybe if I had gone to church more? Was I kind enough to strangers? Had I been rude? Maybe I had not been a good enough wife or mother or sister or daughter or friend? Should I have become a missionary? Maybe a nun? Was I being punished for what I was or for what I wasn't??? Cancer had to be a punishment. There was no other answer. Cancer doesn't just happen! There had to be a reason it was happening to me!!!

Yes, that was honestly where my mind went. Not only have I confessed to being a troubled soul whose first concern was over the loss of her hair...preceding with great significance the question of whether or not she would die...but I must also admit to unbelievably ridiculous feelings of guilt and stupidity. All those thoughts...all that mind-numbing-drive-me-completely-crazy chatter only lasted a few minutes in reality. However, it felt like an eternity passed before I was able to regain control of myself. Once I settled the wild, animalistic panic that had taken hold of me, I was able to come to this conclusion...cancer does just happen. Okay, so I know there is more to it than that.. that there are medical reasons why it happens. I'm referring more to the aspect of who it happens to, not how it actually happens. I'm just one of many. I will never know why it happened to me and quite honestly, I don't need to know. Worrying about the why is nothing more than a waste of time and energy. It was time to bury the questions brought on by fear and guilt. It was time to get down to business.

Maybe I'm an odd being or maybe this is the way it works for most in this situation. I don't know the answer as I've not addressed this subject with many who have been in my shoes. But I process things very quickly. I compartmentalize, strategize and realize what is beyond me. I assess the situation and take control of what can be controlled and let go of the rest. I create a business type atmosphere in my mind and I set about doing the job at hand. For this task, the process began by creating a team. My Power Posse.

The team came into being the night of my diagnosis. The first board meeting was held at my friend, "L's" house. She and my friend, "K", were there to cry with me. To be with me as I made necessary phone calls. We prayed together. And we even laughed together. "K" is a nurse and she became my first line of defense. I thrive on information...knowing what to expect...and she gave me what I needed. She is also a great spiritual and emotional supporter. She has all but carried me through some of life's tougher times. She was a definite posse member. "L", well, "L" is my pal with whom I push the boundaries. She shares my love of adventure and we have survived many what-should-have-been-unsurvivable adventures together. To say we leave trouble in our wake is an understatement. We are the modern day Thelma and Louise. Although I don't know who would be Thelma or who would be Louise. (All I know is I wanna be the one who slept with Brad Pitt!!!) Well, fighting cancer was going to certainly be an adventure. I knew I needed Thelma???...or Louise???...by my side. The Power Posse was 3 members strong... "K", "L", and me. I was a member by default. With charter members defined, it was time for rules to be made. Here are the only rules I felt were needed at the time:

1) It's all about me.

2) Any emotion is fair. Expression of said emotion is always allowed. BUT regardless of that emotion, the rules state we must end all emotional "moments" with laughter.

3) I WILL look like crap. We bust on me....then work like mad to make me look cute.

I know, number 3 is sooo irrelevant in the grand scheme of things but all I can say to that is refer to rule number 1. It's all about me and I was as obsessed as hell with how I was going to be physically affected by chemo. I suppose I should have added rule number 4 stating rule number 1 trumps any and all other rules.

My Power Posse has grown tremendously in number since that first night and the rules have been slightly amended. I'm not sure how large the Posse has become. What I do know is we are all fighting the fight together. We are doing what we can to keep laughter alive in a situation where it could easily be suffocated...maybe even suffer a torturous death. Not a day has passed since that first night that giggles and grins and gut-busting guffaws have not been part of my day. What a blessing. What a treat. What a way to live. And as of that first night, I am living like I've never lived before.

Today I wish you laughter and smiles...sunshine and happiness...a life full of living!

Until next time...

-L

That Dreaded "C" Word

2010-09-13T14:12:00.014-04:00

Cancer. The one word no one ever wants to hear. It is ugly. Vile. Frightening. Earth-shattering. Unwanted. Uninvited. Yet for some...inescapable. As of four weeks and four days ago, I became one of many for whom cancer is an undeniable reality.

It was a typical Thursday night and I was alone at the office attempting to make up for all the hours missed due to my recent run-in with bronchitis. An unknown number appeared on my phone yet I felt sure of its origin. Continuing to shuffle papers as I answered the call, I assumed it would be the results of my recent biopsies. I had no worry or concern about the results. The only troubles I felt my future held would be the scheduling nightmare I would most likely face in trying to have the annoying-but- what-I-knew-would-be-benign lump removed. A big believer in never worrying until there is something to worry about, I had convinced myself all was well. This time, the power of positive thinking failed me.

After only a few words of greeting from my doctor, the "C" word was spoken and from that point on, the conversation was a blur. Words like "invasive tumor", "highly suspected lymph node involvement", "chemo", "skin involvement", "full mastectomy", "radiation", "oncologist", "urgent". Each word carried a sting...a bite...yet I was numb to it all. I remember using my fist to stifle the sobs as I sucked up the tears that wanted to break free. For some unknown reason I needed to stay in control of my emotions...to grasp every word being spoken...to be in control of an uncontrollable situation. I remember thinking how often you hear of one's inability to process bad news as it is delivered and this was definitely bad news. In that moment it became critical to my existence to get the facts straight. I felt like a child yet wanted to act like an adult. My mind was spinning at an alarming pace but I was fighting with everything in me to bring it back to a steady place. I was alone. No one was there to share the burden of recording the facts. It was up to me and only me to take care of business. I asked the doctor to repeat her words over and over. I wrote them down and repeated them back to her, making note after note of what was said. Upon returning to my office the next day, it was painfully clear what I had done. One Post-It note after another was scattered across my desk, each one saying the same thing. In sorting through them, not one could spare me the ugliness of what was to come. Each held the same horrid verdict... I have breast cancer.

In hindsight I remember so little, yet I remember so much. So many odd thoughts passed through my mind and I find it utterly fascinating where the human mind will go when faced with such earth shattering news. As I hung up the phone, I began pacing the hallway, finally allowing the tears to flow. Words came tumbling from my lips, but I have no idea if I was successful in forming coherent sentences. I kept running my fingers through my hair, wondering how quickly it would begin to fall out. And I began to wail. I'm sure the mourning was over far more than the loss of my hair, but it was the catalyst that pushed me over the edge of the cliff into the abyss where only heartache, sorrow and irrational thinking dwell. I could think of nothing else. No thoughts of death. No fear of pain. No concern for the eventual loss of my breast. I just desperately wanted to keep my hair. Strange, superficial thoughts. The only thoughts my mind would allow in that moment.

That was four weeks and four days ago. A lifetime has been lived in those thirty-two days. So many doctors visits, too many tests and scans to count, poking and prodding, needles and biopsies, port-a-cath placement and two chemo treatments... all this and more has filled my calendar. My world has been turned upside down and shaken equivalent to that of a magnitude 9.0 earthquake. But through it all, I have found peace. The fear from that first night has been replaced with an acceptance...a willingness to work with the hand I've been dealt. My faith has always been a huge part of my life and God has come to my rescue once again. An enormous amount of information regarding my treatment has afforded me the chance to know what to expect in the upcoming months. To summarize, 24 weeks of chemo, a full mastectomy then radiation. The side effects have been spelled out. I don't like them, but I can live with them.

The prognosis is good. I've been made aware the journey will be a rough one but the expected outcome should be positive. I know no one can know for certain what the end result will be. Anything can happen. But God gives me hope. He gives me peace. As one of my favorite songs says, though He may not calm the storms around me, He will give me Perfect Peace. As for now, I rest well in the fact that hope is alive and in knowing that God is with me each step of the way. This road has been traveled by many. Sadly for so many women, it is not a journey unique to me. My wish is to fight the fight with grace and thanksgiving for all the good in my life. You see, I've discovered a truth. When faced with the worst, one can discover the best. That dreaded "C" word, while as ugly a word as can be spoken, has allowed me to see how truly blessed I am.

With Love...

-L

Where Oh Where Have You Been?

2010-08-06T13:35:00.010-04:00

Seems I'm getting this question a lot lately. I know. I know. I've been a bad, bad blogger. Would it help to say I've had very good reasons for my absence? I actually have 3 very good reasons. Vacation. Infections. Uncooperative internet. Try as I might to work around these issues, I've been unsuccessful. It's quite evident how unsuccessful I've been given I haven't updated since...ummm...the beginning of time??? How about a little update.

Early in July I went to Canada to visit my girl. Her summertime adventure in Calgary seemed the perfect excuse for me to cross the northern border into our neighboring country. It was a quick but wonderful holiday. As luck would have it, my trip coincided with The Stampede, an annual cowboy festival to rival any I've ever known. Cowboy hats, cowboy boots, massive ornate belt buckles... studly wanna-be cowboys poured into tight jeans as far as the eye could see. Kinda made this single girl's day.

(Sidenote: They really grow 'em tall in Canada. Because of The Stampede, the streets were excessively crowded. Every time I turned around I seemed to literally run into someone. Most often I found myself staring into the chest of a many-inches-beyond-six-feet-tall fella. And let me tell ya..."tall" does it for me. My heart even skipped a beat just now as I relived the memory. You can imagine the heavy breathing and racing heartbeat I experienced when tilting my head ALL the way back to gaze into the eyes of the towering cowboy as I muttered my apologies for the collision.)

My northern vacation was incredible...but that's where the fun seemed to end. While I was there, I felt ill. I tried to blame it on the change in air and altitude but on the return flight home I began to realize I was one sick chick. Several doctor's visits and multiple prescriptions for antibiotics later and I think I'm on the mend. Missed vacation days and sick days have left me terribly behind at work. What days I could work, I pulled super long hours...can we say fun with a capital "F"? I still haven't completely caught up but I am starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

During those horrible sick days, Lady Luck decided it was time to poke fun and I was her intended target. Actually, I think she was suffering from an acute case of PMS HELL! If she was gonna suffer...someone was gonna pay...and that someone was me. Not so sure what I did to piss her off, but trust me, I plan to work hard to never do it again. One mini crisis after another cropped up. The most interesting being my A/C went on hiatus during the days I could barely lift my head off the sofa. Ninety plus temperatures, a raging bout of bronchitis and I only had ceiling fans for relief. During that time coughing fits became the bane of my existence. Sweat poured from my forehead as I coughed up first one lung and then the other. In hindsight, it was actually a little comical. I also had a severe case of laryngitis. All my cries of agony and woe went unheard as nothing...and I do mean no sound whatsoever...passed my lips. Even my coughs were squeaky and soft. I bitched and I moaned. And no one heard. Seems such a waste of energy now.

Leaking ceilings, broken refrigerator doors, wheel bearing issues on my car.... yep, Lady Luck was laughing her ass off at my expense. You would think Lady Luck would eventually decide I had been tortured enough and move on to another unsuspecting soul. You know, dump her excessive heaps of bad luck on someone else. Not so. The final blow came when my house was struck by lightning. How do I know it was struck? I was touching the keys of my keyboard when it happened. And let me tell you, that jolt of electric current that zipped through my fingers and up my arm...not the most pleasant of feelings. From that day forward, I vowed to steer clear of any and all electrical items when a storm is raging. The aftermath of being blindly hit from above has left me without cable, internet, phone, a multitude of lights, and several electrical outlets. We are still working hard to repair my internet issues. Until we do, I must steal time from my work day to play online. Sporadic, stolen moments in blog-land make it difficult to properly update me lil ol' blog.

So there you have it. My very valid...have-to-be-true-cause-nobody-could-make-this-crap-up...excuses for being AWOL. Whew! Glad to finally get that off my chest. So tell me. What's been going on in your world? I'm eager to hear all that I've missed.

HugsNLuv,

-L

P.S. If you believe in prayer, I'm asking you to please remember me. I underwent a few tests yesterday and as always, the waiting time for results has left me nervous. I feel certain all is well but my usual Pollyanna attitude is wavering. Prayer brings peace...and that's what I seek. Much love to you all.