Jeannie Blaylock Blog

Our Christmas Tree Fell Down--Ornaments and All!

JeannieAnchor — Wed, 17 Dec 2008 15:23:00 GMT

our wounded ornament...................................................and the headless Santa Mouse

Please tell me I'm not the only one with a Christmas disaster!

Okay, it's not a disaster.

But I'll be honest. My eyes filled up with tears when I saw our poor tree lying flat on the floor. (You might think I'm weird, but I'm the sentimental type.)

I'd like to hear what has happened at your house that was NOT AT ALL PLANNED!

Here's my story.

You know the feeling of finally-my-house-is-decorated? I was at the point.

Or so I thought.

I was in the kitchen ironing my son's pants. Then I heard this crash. I ran into the TV room and there was our Christmas tree---down and out. The ornaments were scattered everywhere. The water spilled all over the presents and the beautiful wrapping paper was crinkled up like prunes.

I had worked so hard to get our home ready for Christmas!

My daughter and I had spent a couple hours decorating our tree. We gently unwrapped each ornament and made sure the heavy ones were on sturdy branches.

It's not that the ornaments are worth a bunch of money.

They're just special.

There's the wooden boy we got at the German exhibit in EPCOT. My kids love pressing his pointy hat and watching his tongue stick out.

He lost an arm in the fall.

Then there's Santa Mouse.

When Katie and Carson were little I read Santa Mouse to them every year. We put little cubes of cheese in the tree branches so when Santa Mouse comes with Rudolph he won't go hungry.

But Santa Mouse took a hard hit. He's one of those super thin glass ornaments. His head broke off in the fall, but my daughter said, "Mom, don't worry. I can glue him back together."

(Well, she's always the optimistic one. It's going to be tough getting glass shards to stick together. But bless her heart!)

So it wasn't just a mess. It was a sad event.

Someday it might be funny. (I told my son at least the boxers he's getting for Christmas have already been through the pre-wash cycle!)

My husband and son were good troopers with towels and mops and muscles. (The tree isn't light. It's probably 9 feet tall.)

And there was a valuable lesson which came from it all. We talked about the Reason for the Season and how that gift can never fall or break or be taken away from us.

So on a personal note my family found a blessing in disguise. At Christmas it's a good time to see why our faith is so important.

I look forward to hearing your holiday "disasters." Please share!

What Do You Say When Your Child's Team Loses?

JeannieAnchor — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 18:34:00 GMT

We are plunging right into the biggest season of the year for my son. We all live it with him.

Carson, who's now 5'10", is a co-captain of his middle school basketball team. He practices all year long and pours his sweat and his heart into every minute of practice. The games are monumental to him.

First game? We lost by one point at the buzzer. Ahhh!

But there truly was (no sour grapes, honest) a bad call by the ref. All the parents knew it. And it gave my son's team something to rally around because they came from behind and almost---almost---won.

So this week we have several more games.

I would love to win every one. But I'm realistic.

My mind is full of all sorts of things to teach, win or lose.

But share with me what you say to your sons or daughters when their team loses...and they take it hard.

I am a big believer in listening to other parents' wisdom.

Actually, you may have advice on how to handle a win, too. That's important, as well!

Thanks!

My Hero This Holiday Is ..?

JeannieAnchor — Fri, 28 Nov 2008 18:07:00 GMT

I do not believe most men these days sit around like big lumps in a chair. I don't see men expecting their wives or girlfriends to jump up and serve them hot wings, while they shout at the football coach.

For years I have seen my own dad in the kitchen helping my mom wash the pots and pans. He's always been helpful. (Of course, sometimes my mom just wants him to QUIT helping because she thinks she can handle the whole multi-tasking thing and it fries Dad's brain.)

Now in my home my husband and I have a pretty good system. I cook. He cleans up.

Of course, I don't just sit and flip through a magazine while he's scrubbing out the stuck-on spaghetti sauce. My daughter and I are the Saran Wrap queens. We make sure every leftover has its spot in the frig during clean-up time.

And while I cook he always comes in the kitchen and says, "How can I help?"

But last night was Thanksgiving and my husband, Bill, rose to new heights.

I had to work. In fact, all of us on the anchor team were here for the newscasts.

Thanksgiving is just one of those holidays I've never had off. I'm used to it, I guess.

The station management always makes sure to deliver food from some local restaurant. Yesterday we had turkey/corn/etc. from, I think, Denny's and lasagna/salad from some other place. (No logo on the foil pan...) Every appropriate pie was there, too. Even spray whipped cream!

But I just couldn't get into eating the turkey out of the styrofoam.

I decided the day was really to focus on the blessings I have.

I was content saying my prayers and realizing how few people in the world have what we American take for granted. I even was happy spending a few extra minutes under this very soft, beige blanket I rediscovered in the upstairs closet.

However, I'll confess, everyone was talking about food all day, as if they hadn't eaten in years. Then during the news we must have had video of juicy turkey in every story!

So when I got home and saw my husband had bought all this wonderful food I was thrilled! He had creamy green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese, turkey, dressing and even my favorite rolls with the split tops.

Then to make everything even better he heated up the food and arranged a little presentation on the stove top.

(It was sort of fun watching him dart around heating up the side dishes. Once he made a mad dash to the oven to rescue the rolls. I was, I admit, happy to see him experience a bit of what I do. It isn't a cinch to get everything warm at the same time, is it? Maybe next time I call everyone to dinner, I won't hear, "I'll be right there" for five minutes while stuff gets cold!)

Back to our meal courtesy Chef Bill. The food was yummy. And best of all was hearing him tell our family, "I love all of you."

I hope your holidays are filled with moments that make you say, "Gee, I wouldn't trade this for all the tea in China." (It's a saying I've heard from my mom for years!)

Blesings to everyone!

Still Mad About That Breast Self Exam Study

JeannieAnchor — Wed, 20 Aug 2008 18:53:00 GMT

It makes me want to scream.

I just can't get this off my mind. And I am still hearing from some of you about it, too.

Did you see the splash in the news about that Danish study basically saying self exams are worthless? It was on the front page of the Times-Union and several network TV newscasts.

Now I respect women who testify that a self exam would have done them no good. Granted, in some cases that's true.

But how stupid to discourage a free test you can do at home---a test we can prove with Buddy Check 12 that saves lives!

In fact, I wouldn't call it stupid. I'd call it wreckless.

One MSNBC reporter even wrote "checking her girls" would be one thing she can gladly check off her to-do list now.

What if Mary Stratton had scratched it off her list? Or Brenda Peoples? Or several hundred other women I've had the honor of meeting? I call them Buddy Check success stories. They will tell you that self exams are the reason----THE reason----they're walking around still breathing today.

Brenda lives in Fernandina. She found a lump in her breast, went to the doctor, got a mammogram and was told it was totally normal. No way, she thought! She could see the lump protruding out her breast. It was the size of a golf ball.

And, yes, it was breast cancer.

Now if we were talking about some expensive, risky test with possible side effects, such as stroke or blood clots, then, by golly, we should question.

But what does it hurt to do a self exam, say, in the shower when you're already naked anyway? You don't even have to make a doctor's appointment or pay a co-pay or even get stuck with a needle.

Don't scare women into thinking it won't help! My gosh, we need every weapon we can against breast cancer.

And don't insult me as a woman by suggesting I'm not capable of learning my body well enough to detect an abnormal lump.

Of course, we can do it! I've met women whose doctors say they found lumps the size of a grain of rice.

A few years ago researchers hit the news with a similar message. They said thousands of women in a factory setting in China "trained" to do self exams didn't have lower mortality rates from breast cancer after the training.

Okay, how do we know the training was any good? Were there constant reminders to check? Heart-felt support? Or just a cold program which wouldn't inspire anyone?

I made 3 trips to Grenada to teach women there the Buddy Check system. And I can tell you first-hand that it's not easy introducing a new concept into a culture where self exams are a unheard of, let alone accepted in society.

I had to meet countless times with local church women, the local newspaper editors, etc., just to convince them that even talking about cancer was acceptable. I did radio shows. I did TV interviews. We had to overcome a huge hurdle. To them just saying the word "cancer" aloud was actually scary. "The BIG 'C'" meant you had done something evil in your life.

But through lots of discussion, local connections, love and trust we managed to get Buddy Check going in Grenada.

And...guess what? While I was there, we had our first success story. And how did she find her breast cancer? BY SELF EXAM!

Her name is Pamela. I have her picture on my desk in the newsroom.

Give women every chance they can to fight breast cancer.

Self exams.

Mammograms.

Doctors' checks.

And what if I wind up getting a biopsy and it wasn't cancer? I say better safe than sorry. I've had a couple biopsies; so has my Buddy, my mom. We're just glad to stay on top of things.

One of our newer success stories is a lady who's had more than a dozen biopsies. (She had lumps in various parts of her body.) Did she say self exams were statistically unhelpful?

No. You know why? Because the last biopsy she had found breast cancer!

I am not a data expert. I can't tell you what appears "worthwhile" statistically. But I talk with enough husbands who are grateful their wives did self exams to convince me it's an excellent idea.

One Buddy Check lady put it even more clearly. Without a self exam, she says, "I'd be dead."

What do you think? Leave a comment! I'd love to hear from you.

Jeannie Blaylock

Ever See a Guy Get a Mammogram?---Come On, Men--Talk!

JeannieAnchor — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 22:36:55 GMT

Okay, we all know women can talk up a storm. What was that survey? Women spit out something like 40,000 more words a day than men?

This study or that study, the researchers seem to be able to prove we women talk more than guys...lots more.

Maybe we drive you men crazy.

But there's one area we wish you would talk more about---much more.

And that is, male cancers.

I got an email from a retired JSO officer who wanted to talk about his prostate cancer on the news. John said he truly appreciates the work I do for women and breast cancer through Buddy Check 12.

But where is the info about PSA's and screenings for prostate cancer, he wants to know?

He's right. There needs to be a better balance for the guys.

I do at least three stories every 12th of the month on breast cancer. And I do others in between. That's easily dozens of stories about breast cancer every year.

And only a handful on male cancers?

Of course, it helps when men come forward to talk about their own cancer experiences and offer advice. Many, many more women contact me than men.

So I am grateful John is sharing his story.

And I just interviewed two men with breast cancer. One even invited me to come tape his mammogram so other guys could see that---yes---men do get breast cancer.

Doctors tell me it happens in less than 1% of all breast cancer cases. But why not be aware, right?

On the other hand, some 230,000 men in the U.S. are diagnosed with prostate cancer a year. Doctors tell me it's the number one cancer for men.

But talking about prostate cancer involves THAT topic---that embarrassing topic.

The finger wave, as guys call it. The digital rectal exam.

So, yes, it's awkward. But I remember when women blushed when they talked about touching their own breasts for a self exam.

We've gotten over that. Took ten years or so...but we have...

It's time for all of us to encourage men to talk openly about how to find male cancers early.

Embarrassment should be a thing of the past, especially considering 33,000 men die each year from prostate cancer.

Testicular cancer is another topic that could use more media attention. I've done several stories on men who've found testicular cancer doing T-Check 12, our male version of Buddy Check. Thank goodness the guys were willing to go on the news.

So hats off to all the men who are coming forward and TALKING.

We could use more.

We like to have you guys strong and living long.

Oh my gosh!---My son is taller than I am now.

JeannieAnchor — Mon, 21 Jul 2008 22:36:25 GMT

Maybe you've had this moment in your life already. It pretty much blew me away.

How did my little boy get so big? I was just holding his little foot in the palm of my hand. That was yesterday, wasn't it?

Everywhere I go, it seems, people ask me, "How old are your twins now?" When I say, "They're 13 now," people get this surprised look on their faces.

Believe me, I don't know where the time goes either. I just want to grab time and slow it down. Or stop it for awhile.

But in Carson's view, this is all very exciting. He kept walking up to me--almost nose-to-nose--and saying, "I think I'm taller than you are!"

I'm like no...can't be...

So the moment of truth came. Carson was at the doctor's office standing up as tall as he could. The nurse took that metal bar, yanked it up, and set it on Carson's head.

"You're 5-8 and a half," she announced.

Carson turns around and looks at me with a cheshire grin. "See, I told you!"

I'm 5'8". Gee. He got me by a half an inch.

Thing is....it's not stopping. Over the last several months, he's kept growing. According to the doctor's office, he grew a half inch in two weeks. (Is that really possible?)

Now he's 5-9 and 3/4". And he's loving it because he plays basketball for his school.

He has man legs now---hairy and long. His feet look like boats and he is shaving. Yikes!

I fix a big dinner with salmon, pasta, sweet potatoes---a plump plate full of food. And he comes to the table with a bowl of Cheerios and eats that, too!

Of course, I'm so proud of him and my daughter. I'm blessed they're healthy and growing. And Carson stlll says, "I love you" every night, and Katie still adores big, bear hugs as much as I do.

But I wouldn't mind keeping them young as long as possible! Know what I mean?