It's OK to NOT be OK

It's OK to not be OK.  Those wise words are helping me today.  I'm NOT  ok.  I may have tiny little metastatic cancer cells floating about throughout my body.  I'm taking a medication that has some pretty miserable side effects (including most of the fun of menopause for the second time around), and I feel like somebody has stuffed my brain full of cotton.  I know that things ARE stored in my brain but I often can't seem to access the stored information.

I had two marvelous grandma's.  They were true examples of living wonderful, fulfilling lives.  Both of them were quite stoic.  You would not hear them complaining or discussing the hard parts of their lives.  I think that I especially didn't hear it because I was a child, a grandchild, and they felt that it would be too much for me.  I grew to understand that one of the Grandma's didn't say she was feeling poorly, but she would get a little grouchy, a touch cranky.

I personally find that as my wise sister said, "Even a pressure cooker needs to vent!"  I'm grateful right now that I can reach out across internet forums and have wise and loving friends who use their words to lift me up, to give me hope, and courage.  Support during this particular type of battle is ESSENTIAL! 

What if you are going through this war zone and have no support?  I would encourage you to join a support group, or surround yourself with positive literature.  Victor Frankl, Cory Ten Boom, Maria Von Trap, just to name a few authors that inspire through the hard they faced in life. 

I call a friend if I need to vent.  You need to make certain that it's a friend who can handle the hard.  The first time around I learned who my truest friends are.  They were always there to listen, lift, and love,  Those friends are still my friends almost 30 years later.  I hope that I in return have helped them during their hard.

Returning to the idea, "It's ok to not be ok."  This does not mean that you have to be gloom and doomish.  Dora Downer is never somebody that anybody wants to be around.  I follow my personal belief in Craughing.  Women are so good at craughing.  It's a combination of crying and laughing.  That is what women do.  We meet on the phone crying so hard that we're barely coherent, but by the end of the conversation we are laughing through our tears.   Craughing is excellent treatment when life has given you tough, awful, soul shaking things.

Reach out to someone that you love if life is kicking you in the booty.  Your friends can't read your mind.  Unless you tell them, "This is TOO hard" how will they know that you have need?  Life seems to be moving faster and faster, this makes it even more important to reach out in love to others.

Service is an excellent method of enriching your ability to cope.  Somehow when we give, there is always a joy that results.  There are myriads of ways to give, find one and reach out.

It's ok to not be ok.  It's not ok to give in to bitterness, anger, and negative emotion as a permanent coping mechanism.  On a temporary basis, have a grand pity party.  For me there would have to be chocolate involved!  lol  When midnight strikes, be like Cinderella and have the ball be over.  When the pity party gets extended too long it becomes wallowing.  The only creatures that should wallow are buffaloes!

I Choose Love

CANCER is ominous, foreboding.  There is a feeling as though mortality hangs with uncertainty over my head.  The worst kinds of thoughts come rushing.  "Is the medicine to prevent the cancer from spreading worse than the cancer?  Am I still worth something when I feel like I can barely get out of bed and function?  Wasn't it enough to face this when I was thirty-four...why must I face it again?  HOW do I face it again?  The hardest one that hit me tonight when I was feeling physically awful, "When I die, will my husband still love me.  Can he forgive me for my faults and failings?

Tonight instead of allowing those swarming, ravenous, predator thoughts free rein, I CHOOSE LOVE!  I choose to remember the warmth of heart that generated a wall filled with beautiful cards with loving thoughts.  There is a card from Egypt, and a card from England.  Loving words from loving people. 

I choose to remember the beloved friend that understands that I feel awkward now that I have no breasts.  She understands so she sent me two gorgeous dresses that help me feel still feminine, still a woman.

I choose to look at the paper chains of brilliant colored hearts on my wall put together by a couple that I claim as an important part of my heart.  There are also flowers on my wall of different sizes and shapes made out of paper.  I can't be allergic to paper flowers. (I am allergic to most others).  They also brought us so many groceries that our fridge and cupboards groaned with joy.

There is a string threaded with multi colored butterflies that two of my great-nieces made for me.  Each butterfly dances in the breezes that move the air in my room.

I'm in a bedroom that is perfectly cool and comfortable.  Another friend insisted on purchasing a portable air conditioner so that I would not suffer ill effects from the heat.  It has been lovely to be able to control the temperature of the space where I spend most of my time lately.

I'm in a lovely room, just me, in a most comfortable queen sized bed, while our two beautiful daughters share a room.  They gave up the chance to have a bedroom to themselves when I moved in.  They treat me as though I'm royalty.  They have cared for me and about me throughout this entire process.

On my bed are two quilts.  One of them is quite old, almost 40 years old.  My Mama and I hand quilted it.  Over the years the quilted stitches came undone, so I quilted it again.  Mama chose the fabric, and I can see her working over it, pouring love into each and every stitch.  My other quilt?  My sister-in law stayed up most of two nights to create a beautiful quilt for me.  It has squares of beautiful fruits and vegetables with loving messages tucked in the quilt by stitching.

Speaking of loving, when my sister-in law learned of my 2nd bout of cancer, she brought her daughter, and two of her grand daughters (that I'm close to) and took all of us to the beach for a week.  It was life affirming.  The beach is healing to my soul.  I was born not far from the ocean in southern California.  The sound of the waves seems to make my heart beat more evenly.  Being in that lovely place, with beloved family, eating delicious food (that I didn't cook) was marvelous!
They stayed to help as I underwent a double mastectomy.

Meals were brought in to our family for a week from our church group.  Dear friends have taken us grocery shopping to make certain that we have nutritious food.  They cook a meal for us once a week.  A neighbor ordered pizza for us.

Both of our girls had the same marvelous teacher in grade school.  She sent us a card to get food from one of our favorite restaurants.  The food was extra delicious seasoned with such love.

Our girls bought me leggings to wear from a street vendor.  When she heard about my medical situation she donated an extra pair for me.  This woman didn't even know me.

I have been napping a lot lately.  Before this diagnosis I struggled with chronic fatigue.  I have reached a new level, sometimes walking from my bedroom to the bathroom is exhausting.  I awakened feeling self-pity.  When I came out to the living room there was a lovely fleece blanket made for me by another cancer survivor....a friend of a friend who heard about my situation.

I posted on a website for the women of my church group that I wished to borrow an 18 inch doll so that I could sew some doll clothes, while I'm healing, to give for Christmas presents.  The next thing I know four women volunteered to give or loan me a doll.  The amazing part was that one of the ladies had a daughter who had been given a special bald 18 inch doll when her sister battled with leukemia.  They felt that it was appropriate to pass on this very special bald doll to me as I battle on with cancer.  Another lady brought me patterns, and tons of fabric and notions to create lovely things with.

Many beloved people tell me that I am strong.  It is difficult to hear because I don't want to disappoint anyone by being weak.  Quite frankly, my body feels quite weak right now.  Yet, how can I possibly give in to the negative thoughts I spoke of in my first paragraph?  I have been celebrated, comforted, and cossetted with love.  Tonight I choose love, and ways that I can also return love. 

A Naked Emperor?

There is a childhood story that I always found entertaining.  It's about an Emperor that pays more attention to his fashion sense than he does to the needs of the populace.  A tailor comes in to town that convinces the foolish ruler that he is making a suit so beautiful, so spectacular that there has never been anything like it.  The king proudly wears his new suit in a grandiose parade.  A child has the honesty to point and say, "Mommy, why does the king have on no clothes?"

Battling cancer for the second time sometimes leaves me feeling chagrined and naked.  Granted, I am not anybody's ruler.  I am also aware when I have on no clothes, so this is not the perfect analogy.  On the other hand, with this invader in my body I feel as though the world can view my weaknesses, my imperfections.

On the other hand, I don't wish anybody to believe that I am wondrously strong, an example for everyone to see.  I had a miserable day today.  I felt distinctly camel like.  (As in the straw that broke the camel's back)?  The straw was the way that health crap leaves you needing twice as much money, with no ability to earn it.

Now some of you may be scratching your heads thinking, "WOW...she thinks she's a ruler AND a camel?"

My entire life has been shaped by one medical challenge after another.  When I became an adult I realized all the chaos that had been in our family because of my medical needs.  Even in 1956, continual medical need cost a great deal of money.  As I grew older, there were better medicines to give me a better quality of life.  Unfortunately, the new medicines cost a whole lot of money.

Then...many car accidents, multiple falls, damaged back, bad knees, fibromyalgia, and two breast cancers later...sometimes I feel like I'm cobbled together with bills, pills, and ills.  The other two rhyming words are trauma and drama.  On days like today....I felt naked, like everyone in the world could see my foul mood and my pity party.  The reality is, if they didn't before, reading this they will.  (Disclaimer, very few people read this blog).

Why the venting.  Somehow putting my emotions into words on a page helps me to sift and sort through them.  I don't want tomorrow to be as bad as today.  What made today so horrid was my attitude about it.  Granted, I don't believe there really IS a very positive attitude towards cancer, or other health problems on an everyday basis.  As a great singer once sang, "Sometimes you're the windshield, sometimes you're the bug."  I felt mostly bug like today.  (OK, now I'm ruler, camel, AND bug)?

One of the best things in life is that we are given fresh starts, over, over, and over again.  I look forward to a new day. 

The good, the bad, and the phantom pain???

Years ago, a movie came out with the title, "The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly."  I never watched the movie.  It looked like the kind of thing that I do not enjoy, gritty, dirty, and violent.  UGH.  On the other hand, I've made use of the brilliant title on a number of occasions.  This is one of them.  Please note that I did substitute a couple of different words for "Ugly."  I believe they are quite synonymous with ugly.

Today was mostly good.  It did not start out that way.  I had a very rough night last night.  I felt terrible.  I'm still battling with an infection.  It causes pain and general misery.  I couldn't sleep, even though I was exhausted.  In the dark, my mind raced into and around every possible negative scenario that can happen when a person battles cancer.

When I finally got up I went about performing the little chores that constitute living in our day and age.  Every little thing is exhausting right now.  I can't explain how much energy it takes just to turn on my side in bed.

I have been very worried about the extra heavy load our girls are carrying in working, and trying to care for their ill mother.  They never complain, they are two of my greatest blessings in life.  I simply can't imagine how I would manage without them.

The next thing I know, one friend has purchased us a weeks worth of groceries.  Another friend hands our daughter a substantial amount of cash.  If one must face cancer having a loving support group helps to take out some of the sting and suffering!

The bad?  Facing myself in the mirror.  I'm sixty-two, have given birth three times, (our little boy passed), nursed two babies, and my breasts were far from perky.  (If that is TMI....sorry, just being a bit real for a moment).  It's one thing to look at your own old lady crests and quite another to see lines of sutures marching across your chest wall.  I tried to prepare myself for this eventuality before I had my double mastectomy.  I'm not certain that anything can prepare you mentally.  Actually, I guess my bad, can also double as my UGLY!

Phantom pain?  Sometimes my breasts itch.  I reach to scratch the itch...THERE IS NOTHING THERE TO SCRATCH!  The worst though, is when I get the same old miserable pain in my nipple from radiation during my first bout with breast cancer in 1991/92.  One should not have to endure nipple pain that severe, when one no longer has a nipple!!!

I do understand that my brain is still receiving signals from the nerve endings in the affected area.  This means that whether you have lost a foot or an arm...your brain still tries to convince you it's still there.

Our baby was only sixteen weeks when he died inside me.  I had a D&C (medical procedure where they remove all the pregnancy related tissue in the uterus).  For a full year afterwards my brain kept telling me that I was pregnant.  I kept feeling the baby move.  I would repeat over and over, "You lost the baby.  You're not pregnant...and yet I would still feel him move within me.  That was most distressing.  Each time I had those sensations it was like losing him all over again.

I did not write this blog to depress anybody  Life is filled with hard, challenging, of all types and dimensions.  Many times it would be easiest to just give up.  The song says, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."  Sometimes...hopefully only temporarily...it might turn you into charcoal.  You know the lump of coal BEFORE the pressure turns it into a diamond.

From birth I had severe allergy asthma.  I was born in a time when the only treatment for asthma was to give oxygen and pray that the attack would subside.  I spent many times in a hospital in an oxygen tent.  As I grew a little older, my Mama would stay up with me all night.  I would lie in our recliner because I could not lie flat in a bed.  I couldn't breathe at all if I was flat.  After a long night of just struggling to breathe Mama would say, "Oh listen?  The birdies are singing.  We've lived through another night."

I have known all of my life without a doubt that life is precious.  Even in that awful extremity (it is miserable when you can't breathe) I knew that there was a validity in fighting.  I will not give up now.  I will fight on...please do the same!  

Medical Technology - Greed and Gouging

My great grandma was diagnosed with diabetes in the 1930's.  It was a terminal illness.  She went blind first.  My Mama was 10 years old when she came in the house one day and found her beloved Grandma lying sprawled on the floor amidst broken bottles of tomatoes.  Her vision had failed and she had tripped and fallen.

Before the disease, she was a community midwife, mother to twelve children, she churned the butter, made the cheese, grew an enormous garden, bottled her own fruits and vegetables to tide them over the winter, sewed their clothes, cooked three meals a day, cleaned, and was beloved by friends and family.

After the disease took her vision she would sit in a chair and crochet all day.  At the end of the day her daughters would take out the stitches and the next day hand her the yarn to crochet all over again.  At least she felt that there was something she could do.

It seems impossible in the year 2018 that less than a hundred years ago diabetes was a terminal illness.  Now it is a treatable illness.  Many people live a normal life span.  The discovery of artificial insulin has saved the lives of countless people.

My husband had diabetes 26 of the 27 years that we were married.  His health became so complicated that nobody would insure him. (Yes, there was a time that having poor health made you uninsurable).  He went without insulin many times over the years .  His blood sugar would rise as high as 700.  Having your blood sugar this high leads to diabetic ketoacidosis.  When this happens it thickens your blood.  When the blood is thickened it can't move through the human body in the way that is necessary to sustain life.

 After around twenty years of living with diabetes, he found out that because of all of his medical expenses, there was a company that would pay for ALL of his diabetic supplies.  It was far too little, too late.  He had to have laser surgery for the bleeding in his eyes.  He developed a diabetic ulcer in his big toe twice.  He died at the young age of 54. 

I recognize that we live in a capitalist society.  It does not horrify me to see people in medicine make a profit...but at what point does profit move into price gouging?  Here is an example.  In one of many of my husband's hospitalizations he received an itemized hospital bill.  There was a charge that we did not understand.  It was for, "independent mucus retrieval system."  HUH?  When we called to determine what this $8.00 charge was?  It was a box of kleenex.  The box was in the room when he arrived.  I think the next time he had to hospitalized I got rid of their "independent mucus retrieval system," and brought him a box of kleenex from home.

This type of charge is gouging....charging far and above a rate of reasonable profitability.  Often patients will be too ill to even notice bogus charges on their hospital bill.  Often insurance companies will be given a deep discounted price, and then the patient is charged full price.  This means that the  patient winds up paying for the insurance companies discount.

How ludicrous that we proudly speak of American's wonderful medical system...but people are still dying because they can't afford life saving items, such as insulin?  Visiting the UK, we stayed with friends.  The husband had diabetes and other diseases.  All of his care and medication is paid for.  In other words, he never runs the risk of having to go without life saving medications.  Perhaps we should not try to pigeonhole profit into medicine.  Just a random thought, maybe we expect medicine in this country we're proud of (and I am) to be a RIGHT, not a PRIVILEGE.

Pharmaceutical companies do help the desperately needy with some of their medications.  They still make billions of dollars in profits.  One of my husbands medications literally cost $15.00 for one pill.  I know for a fact that the company could have profited if they charge $1.00 a pill.  Is there no oversight, no accountability for these greedy gluttons of pharma?

Many of the hardest hit by health insurance and prescriptions are America's middle class.  They may work two or three jobs to try and pay for living expenses.  They do not qualify for any assistance They also have to pay a lot for medical insurance, and also have a huge out of pocket expense before they can recoup any medical expenses.

It is truly unbelievable that we have some of the greatest medical technologies in the world today, but only the very rich are able to receive that type of care.  The very poor sometimes can finesse through the system to get almost adequate medical care.  Actually, if you want primo care, commit a crime.  In the jails they provide all types of medical attention.  What you don't want to be is a hard working middle class American.

Tears and Fears

I shouldn't have done it.  I really do not want to know what may lie ahead for treatment with cancer.  Google can make it far too easy to look towards possible treatments.  How many people in my position would be thinking....HOORAY, cancer treatment for possibly a year, or the rest of my life, treatment that can make me deathly ill, and possibly kill me? I like to think that most people are rational enough to understand that is NOT a pleasant prospect.

I like to be positive.  There are so many wonderful things about this life.  Right now I'm listening to the best sound in the world to me, our two beautiful girls in the kitchen creating a meal for our family.  They joke, laugh, sing, dance, and create food that is very nourishing.  I hear their father in their voices, their laughter, and he lives on.

I prefer to be positive for it is pretty certain that I will only live this life once.  I would prefer to live once and done, and then move into an eternal forum without the many difficult challenges of this part of our forever existence.  If I can live this life once, it impels me to look beyond the dark dreadful of drama and trauma.

There is a bittersweet quality to cancer, to chronic illness, to disability, and even death.  The bitter is very obvious.  The sweet is more of a surprise.  In the middle of hard, love seems to gain a shimmering brilliance.  Caring comes in most unexpected ways.

While my husband lay in a hospital bed dying our neighbor called and asked if she could do anything.  She was a busy mom with a darling toddler, and a loving husband.  I told her that we were fine. An hour later she was with us in  hospital room with hot cocoa and cookies.  She explained that she was going to be cleaning my kitchen.  When her father had died, their neighbor had cleaned her mother's kitchen.  It was a simple act.  Yet great love passed from friend to friend.

 It is very easy to give in to fear for the future right now.  I mean, I'm staring cancer straight in the face to see which of us will blink first.  My dear Papa taught me that courage is NOT the absence of fear.  True courage means facing the hardest things.  He taught me through his excellent example.  He battled with cancer for five years.  He fought very hard, for life was truly precious to him.  Thanks Papa for teaching me how to continue living in the face of hard!

I will continue to do my very best to be positive.  Sometimes I may have to squeeze and shake the sweet out of that bitter.  If you see me somewhere shaking and squeezing...well you'll know what I'm doing.  

   

Post Surgery

A double mastectomy constitutes major surgery.  The process impacts most functions in the human body.  I've had two breasts since 1968.  My body had become extremely comfortable with their existence.  Then?  Having them both excised is traumatic on every single level. 

Physical?  The hormones that created these creations have now caused them to become a threat.  After the mastectomy it was discovered that I have FOUR tumors, not just the two already seen.  In addition it appears that it has begun to spread into a lymph node.  This raises a new type of alarm.  Has it also spread beyond this part of my anatomy?  Tamoxifen will stop the spread of estrogen into my lack of breast tissue.  It will not kill any existent cancer cells.  So, chemo?  Radiation? 

Emotional?  I have reached a point in my life when  feel happy to be shaped in a feminine way.  I love to feel pretty, stylish.  There are not curves any more, just lumpiness.  What if this is the beginning of a journey that will end in my death?  What can I do to ready myself if that is an eventuality?  How do I find joy in my days, even if my days are filled with pain, infection, complications?

Spiritual?  This is the one area that I feel most confident.  This is my second battle with cancer.  I have over a lifetime developed a life philosophy that usually serves me well.  I lost my beloved husband 6 years ago.  I know that he lives on, and being with him again is inviting.  I KNOW that life continues after death.  I know that God lives.  I've never doubted that knowledge for one moment of my life. 

Financial?  How is it possible to earn money when my weary body dominates my radiant spirit's ability to earn money.  I can barely contribute to our family dynamic.  If I die, well we can't afford to have me die.  There is no money for final expenses. 

I look at all of these fears and constraints.  Yet I am lifted by the love that has been shown to me with abundance since this newest attack of BIG C!  I let the love flow through me, around me, and I reach out in loving return.  That love, often considered abstract, feels very real to me.  I am grateful for all of that love.  I will use it as a great wind to lift my broken wings.  I will use it to carry me past hard, disease, cancer.

Brassieres, Bustiers, Merry Widows, shoulder boulder holders, and other nonsense

When my grandmothers became adolescents with the attendant development of breasts the social policy was that breasts should be suppressed.  They wore a chemise that did nothing to elevate the breast.  Then they wore dresses that also constrained the breast.  Breasts were intended only as providers of food to nourish new life.

My father once told me that "decent women" did not get pregnant.  They were "in a delicate condition," or "a family way."  This is true...I mean, I couldn't even make this stuff up. My grandmothers were born on the heels of the Victorian era.  That was a time when women went into "confinement."  Confinement was the last few months of being "in a delicate condition."  You were confined to your home.  The reason for this was that it was considered indecent to be seen in public in that condition.  When you went in public it exposed people to the vulgar activity that created pregnancy.  (Not my words...words from that era).

By the time that I developed breasts in 1968 times had changed RADICALLY.  Thank heavens in many ways, no thanks in others.  The bullet bra became popular shortly before I achieved adolescence.  In case you are unaware, human female breasts are NOT pointed.  The only reason that I can imagine that a bullet bra was created was that somebody that adored German opera (with the lead woman wearing armor on her chest that had pointed breasts, and a hat with horns, thankfully the hat with horns never caught on in regular fashion).   

My sister was six years older than me.  I began my breastal years by wearing one of her hand me downs.  The bras NEVER fit.  I was embarrassed as one of the first girls in school to need a bra.  A few times somebody accidentally poked me in the boob, and the bullet bra would stay inward.  To a very shy young girl, that was mortifying!

I was grateful when I went backwards from the bullet model to a "training bra."  I don't believe that my breasts needed any training.  It seriously felt as though I went to sleep one night and woke up the next morning and lo and behold....I HAD BREASTS!  UGH!  What is a tomboy who played with all the neighborhood boys, war, tree house, kick the can...etc. etc. supposed to do with that?

In the summer there was a group of us, about seven boys, and one me.  We would play for most of the day.  We played Army, Cowboys and Indians (I preferred to be the Indian), kick the can, tree fort...etc. etc.  At dinner time we would each go home to our separate abode.  One night when I returned to the group after dinner there were seven young boys (around my age) staring at my chest.  One of them pointed an accusatory finger and said, "You wear a BRA!"

Those words rang in my ears as I ran to my home in tears.  I cried myself to sleep that night.  That was the very last time that I played with the group.  There is a country western song called, "Oh How I Wish I Were a Little Boy Again."  I respect and honor that some dear folks are born struggling with gender identity.  That is a totally different subject than I am discussing.

At eighteen I performed in summerstock theater.  The female members of the cast wore a "Merry Widow."  That is actually a long line strapless bra.  In other words, a bra/corset combo.  I have no idea where the name "Merry Widow," came from.  I'm a widow now, and trust me, it does NOT make me feel merry.

I fed our daughters with my breasts.  I remember, during this time, going to sleep a 34 B+ and waking up a 40D.  My husband looked over and said, "Good grief, the Titty Fairy came in the night!"

At thirty-four I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I had two lumpectomies, and radiation.  The radiologists did not warn me not to wear an underwire bra.  Honestly, there is another torture device, a "push-up" bra.  We have gone from compressing our breasts to make them as invisible as possible, to an era when we force them into perky and upright positions.  I kept wearing my underwire.  That held the heat of the radiation in, which permanently burned the tissue under my breast.  I have not been able to wear a bra comfortably since.  I have tried every bra known to mankind.  Even the bras that are made for women with breast cancer hurt.

Am I going to be sorry to see my breasts go away?  Yes and no.  I have had these appendages hanging from me for FIFTY YEARS!  That's a lots of time.   I'm used to them, they are part of my anatomy.

Having said that they are part of my anatomy, the left one is now a TWO TIMER.  I've never been patient with two timing of any type. The right one has evidence of a currently benign tumor.  Benign tumors can become malignant.  So....good-bye to bras, merry widow, and cancerous breasts.  I WILL adapt!

Late Night Cancer

Night's blackness envelopes me.  The worst is that the dark seems to crawl inside me, surround me.  I have a condition called photosensitivity.  It can impact a body two different ways.  Many are familiar with the kind of photosensitivity that makes it impossible for a person to be in sunlight.  These dear souls usually sleep during the day and exist during the night.  I have two friends who live with a lighter case of this.  Both of them wear long sleeve shirts with higher collars.  It does not matter how hot it is outside, they must cover their skin. 

My type of photosensitivity is the opposite.  The darker it becomes, the higher my levels of pain increase.  I didn't trust my own experience for a long time.  Then I worked in a basement with no windows.  My pain started to creep upwards.  My constant weariness (think of being in a burlap bag and trying to live everyday life) grew in intensity.  Finally I looked at the clock....it was dark outside.  This happened on multiple occasions.  I try to prepare for my daily shift into darkness.  You can imagine that I do better when there are longer hours of sunlight.  Winter is very difficult for me with it's shorter hours of daylight.   

Of course, physical issues impact our mental outlook.  The more we learn about the brain, the more it becomes obvious that physical health, cancer, diabetes, chronic fatigue syndrome, fibromyalgia, lupus, lyme disease...all of these noxious conditions impact the three chemicals your brain needs to keep you feeling calm, and at peace.  Dopamine, neurepinephrine, and serotonin are the chemicals that our brain needs to function properly.  Any chronic illness impacts these chemicals, which can lead to anxiety, depression, or other serious mental conditions.

With Fibromyalgia, which I've had for almost 30 years, your body tries to protect you.  It does this by sending pain signals EVERYWHERE throughout your body.  Normally you feel localized pain.  An example of this is when you break a bone.  Your brain sends a pain signal to the area.  This is self-protection.  Your brain is telling you to take care of your leg.  With fibromyalgia pain becomes widespread.  I have even had flares caused by pain as small as a hangnail.   

During the day, it's far easier to maintain a positive outlook.  Light and bright, I can be busy and keep all fears at bay.  I'm actually not quite as light and bright since the cancer diagnosis.  That was a blow to my solar plexus.  CANCER...the BIG C...THE GRIM REAPER...it has been given multiple names.  To me it feels as though my body has betrayed me.  My left breast is now literally a TWO TIMER!  I have never cared for those, either human or breast!  "Fooled me once shame on you.  Fooled me twice shame on me!"  I should have gotten rid of that two timer 27 years ago.

I feel that my words are driven to have a safe place to rant, to vent.  At the same time, I wish to find a positive way to view this very negative experience.  Negative and positive things in life are always before us.  We don't ignore the negative.  Sometimes we need to give it some time for our brains to process the hard, the ugly. 

At the same time, we choose where we focus.  I AM NOT SAYING THIS IS EASY!  Actually this choice can be very, very, (multiple an infinite amount of very), hard.  Do we expect life to be easy?  If we have the expectation of easy, we will be rudely awakened multiple times in life. 

Gold medal Olympic athletes do not reach their skill level by sitting on the couch eating chocolate.  They exert great quantities of effort.  Daily they practice, they give hours of their life each and every day to their goal.  They keep the end result before them to make the hard choices worthwhile.

Today, I'm going to be a gold medal Olympic athlete of living with cancer.  I will lift my vision up to who I can become...even through this hard!

Roller Coaster Ride

I grew up riding on a roller coaster that was all wooden, over one hundred years old.  It was magical to me to think of all the people that had gone up, up, and upper still, and then....WHOOSH, they dropped, and so did their stomach.  The thrill of the wind racing past my face, and the rapid speed of the twists and turns took me beyond the everydayness of life.

That roller coaster has become an analogy for my life...especially right now.  This week, I felt the rush of wind going past my face as I caught my sandal on a fan cord in our house.  For a brief (too brief) moment I was flying.  AND THEN...I landed.  When you hit something hard, if you're blessed the hard parts of you do not break.  On the other hand, the soft parts of you keep moving for awhile after your landing.  This continued movement create a condition that is basically as though you have sprained your entire body.  This is especially true when you enter your 6th decade in life.

Not broken....but bent.  I have had folks with the best intentions tell me that I'm "lucky" that I didn't break a bone.  Agreed.  On the other hand, soft tissue damage can hurt much longer, and take more time to heal than a bone injury. 

It feels crappy that now, not only am I battling with breast cancer, but both of my knees are damaged.  After my double mastectomy I will have to work hard to be able to use my arms again.  In this surgery they change the arrangement of your chest muscles into your arms.  Does this sound appealing?  In the least?

I threw a wicked pity party...invited a party of one...me.  I felt good and properly sorry for the mess that I have landed in.  I gave myself a deadline...until midnight...cried, ranted and raved, and ate lots of chocolate.  I binge watched Heartland...which is a Canadian telly series that involves lots and lots of horses. 

At my deadline I truly did my best to turn my focus back around.  I do believe that we create our own reality....well to a degree.  As a writer I create multiple realities.  If the day is bleak and filled with challenge, I run away for a couple of hours.  I control the worlds of my writing.  It is a most satisfying sensation to look at the world through the eyes of my characters.

Ride that roller coaster...throw your arms up as you ride down the hill.  Rejoice in the wind that tickles and torments your hair.  Feel the rush as gravity holds you in its embrace.  There is much about movement. 

Today I Choose Happiness/Happy Not Crappy

My husband battled with all types of health challenge for the 28 years that I knew him.  He had to have a colostomy at the young age of 23, he had a kneecap removed when he was about 25, then they discovered that his lower spinal canal was far too small for his size, and the nerves around it were all malformed.  Next it was diabetes, then sarcoid, a stroke at 37...I think you get the picture.

In spite of all of this, Nyle lived with more joie de vivre than anyone else that I've ever known.  He often taught our children that our family motto was "Happy not Crappy."  That meant that it was up to us to determine that we were going to CHOOSE to be happy especially when circumstances were negative.

May I mention that while he battled all of the above battles, he finished his undergrad degree.  He worked as a producer of a feature length film, directed and acted in several music videos, and performed in plays too numerous to mention.  He was in Hamlet, he played Polonius with the professional actor Gordon Jump, and the narrator James Earl Jones. 

My honey went on to Law School.  He worked while he attended Law School.  He was on the Admissions Committee as a Student Advisor.  He maintained his status in the top 50% of his class, and graduated with a special honor called, "The Cornelius Honor Society."  This society was based on all around participation in the process of gaining a legal education.  The recipients were voted on by the student body, staff, and faculty.  It was an amazing honor, but he definitely had earned it.

Did I mention all of the physical challenges he faced during this time?  There were the days during his undergrad years that his legs would not hold him upright.  He would lie on the ground.  Using his arms he would propel himself to our car, pull himself inside and drive home.  He would repeat the same action the next day, and the next, and the next as he made his way through to his Bachelor's Degree.

He truly chose happiness.  Once he said to me, "I've decided that pain is neither bad or good, it's just a different dimension of being."  I told him, "I'm sorry.  I'm not that evolved.  I affirm your positive power, but I'm not there yet."

Breast cancer round two.  Is it possible to feel happy, content, as you battle a killing disease?  I know that it will be much harder after my double mastectomy and possible radiation or chemo to maintain a positive attitude.  To me I would rather have an ideal that I'm working towards than simply to let my emotions drive the life I live.

Thanks husband of mine for 33 years of Happy Not Crappy, and choosing happiness.  I'll do my best to live up to your inspirational attitude!

WARNING...this post involves disability, and cancer...read at your own risk.

I try very hard to inspire.  I learned early in my life that if I inspired others, it helped to inspire me as well.  I would far rather view the moments of joy and glory in my life, than the valley of the shadow of death that I have often walked through.  The joy and glory are still there but the shadow...the dark valley are often there as well.  It is our choice where to focus.

In the Bible the 23rd Psalm says, "Ye thou I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for Thou art with me..."  I was born with an absolute knowledge that there is a God, Higher Power, Jehovah, whatever name you choose to call him or her, or if you prefer not to refer to the sacred name at all, I KNOW that there is Higher Power.  That has been a rich blessing in my life.

If you have no solid concept of any form of Higher Power I would encourage you to look to the restorative gifts of nature.  The majesty of mountain peaks, the wonder of trees greening every color, the seasons that provide variety and renewal to life, look closely at all of these gifts and hold wonder close to your heart.

In World War II my father was a paratrooper and an infantry man.  Shortly before that he had served as a missionary for The Church of Jesus Christ of latter-day Saints.  In that position he was a minister teaching about Jesus, love, and peace.

Not long after his return home his strong sense of patriotism drove him to enlist.  He would have been drafted if he didn't enlist, but our family had been part of America long before it WAS America.  I think his heart beat rhythm was America the Beautiful.

He saw the horrors of the earth being torn to pieces by explosives.  Beautiful places would be laid to waste.  He served in the Occupation Troops in Japan.  Years after the war he spoke about the wonder he felt as he saw nature heal those gaping wounds.  The earth would take time to renew and regrow, but eventually new plants would arise from the ashes.  Trees that had been splintered and twisted, would shelter new sprouts that pushed through the damaged soil towards the sunshine.

I have faced breast cancer once before.  I have the perspective that I went through incredibly hard before, and came out stronger and more determined to live life to its fullest.

That said,  I would prefer NEVER to face cancer, or disability.  I am angry on and off right now.  I am the least angry when I first wake up.  Then, once again the idea of what I'm facing engulfs me.  Double mastectomy.  The first time I had cancer my nipple was burned so badly by the radiation that it felt as though needles were being driven in and out.  This torture would have been extremely effective if someone were trying to elicit secrets from me. 

I lived two states away from my marvelous mom.  She kept calling and saying, "I can come any time.  Are you certain that you don't need some help?"

I would reply with determination, "Thanks mom, I love you, but I'm an adult.  I've got this."

When the pain started in my nipple that was the very last straw.  I called her sobbing, "Mommy, I need you!"  She was there the very next day.

The breast biopsy has awakened the sleeping torture of nipple pain.  It's AWFUL.  I live with chronic pain, nerve, muscle, and bone.  I've given birth three times.  I have had a kidney stone, too large for me to pass.  I  KNOW what pain is.  This particular pain rises high above the others in intensity.

It's also unfortunate that it is in a location that you shouldn't touch in public.  When this pain hits, it doesn't matter whether I'm at the grocery store, or church, I grab that breast.  A certain type of pressure eases the pain.

Will this pain still haunt me when all of the breast tissue is gone?  I pray that is not the case.  Even strong pain medication doesn't get rid of this, it makes it slightly more manageable but it is still there.
I always like to infuse something positive in my blog posts.  I can't do it this time.  The valley has laid me bare.  Yet I do know that this WILL pass.  I will remember my father's image about the restoration of wounded earth.  I will NOT allow this cancer to destroy me or my vision for the future.

Things That Go Bump In The Night

Dot, my comfort kitty, dashes madly about.  She has a very unique feral meow.  It could raise the short hairs on the back of the most hardened person's neck.  If that is not sufficient to awaken me, next she will begin to bat the long springy thing that is meant to keep the door from bashing into the wall.

My husband had a laser pointer.  It existed only for the purpose of exercising our cats and dog.  He would move it about with the glee of a child.  Dot, our kitty, would follow that tiny red dancing light until she was exhausted.

The last month has been tremendously stressful as I travel to various clinicians.  Last week was the nightmare climax as I learned that breast cancer IS BACK!  I now call my left breast The Two Timer.  This is in reference to the fact that this is my 2nd bout of cancer in that breast.  It wasn't enough to disrupt my life once, apparently twice is even better.

He died six and one half years ago, my beloved husband.  I'm not a psychic.  Yet I know that Nyle lives on, now in spirit form.  If he could find a way to let us know that he's still here, it would be with a spiritual laser pointer.  It could just be an imaginative comfort on my part.  On the other hand, comfort is comfort and the image of Nyle still teasing and playing with Dot brings me great comfort.  This feline frolic happens about the same time most nights since I received the BIG C diagnosis.

My honey was part feline, part canine.  Animals in need would walk to him, literally off the street.  Dot is his last rescue.  We have only a guestimate to her age.  She must be about 12, but I find myself hoping that she will live to a very old age.  On the other hand, I hope that I am not awakened every single night for the next six or seven years!

For me, she is the "thing that goes bump in the night."  As I type her eyes are wide, and she keeps looking about as if she is concerned by what she sees.  I wish that I could see what she can, especially if she can see my soul mate, my husband of  thirty-three years of here and forever.

Cancer

I'm not sleeping very long right now.  My brain wakes up after 5 or 6 hours of sleep.  I can't lie still while my brain races into the void.  That's how I feel right now.  I feel as though I'm once again facing the great unknown.

How well can anyone sleep when mastectomy, possible chemotherapy, and Tamoxifen lurk around the corner?  It's especially difficult because I have walk this road before. 

Before I walked the road with my sweetheart.  He was my protector.  At six foot four inches of solid hunk, I knew that he would keep me safe.  My 2nd lumpectomy the nurse fished for 20 minutes (not exaggerating) trying to find a vein.  She was very clumsy in her attempts.  I was not strong enough to tell her to quit.  After all, I knew that she HAD to put in an IV so I was doing my best to be brave.

Nyle finally stood up and firmly said, "Find somebody else!"  He did not speak in a loud voice, but when he spoke in his strong, deep, bass voice, people listened. 

The nurse actually protested.  That shocked me.  She said, "Oh no, I've almost got it." 

He stepped forward, so that he was between the nurse and I.  He said again, "Find someone else."

Desperately I miss my protector.  He died six years ago.  I do feel his spirit ever so close.  I also know that he will still be protecting me in the ways that his spirit can.  I'm ever so grateful for that knowledge. 

Yet I miss his physical presence.  He does NOT kiss as well...just sayin'.  I miss his chest laugh that said so smoothly, "All is right with life in this moment."  I miss the masculine strength of his beautiful voice.  I miss hearing him call me honey bunny, and just honey.  I miss lying in bed snuggling while we listen to our favorite music.  I miss his romance, and oh what a romantic he was.  I miss HIM!

I'm trying to find positive things as I go through this Valley of the shadow of death once again.  I do not believe that I will die.  My cancer is early stage, and so far seems to be limited to the breast.  You might wonder why I would opt for the most radial of treatment options.  This is the second time that my breast has betrayed me.  The other breast?  I don't even want the possibility that it will also betray me ultimately.

Betrayal?  That is how I feel.  I've had breasts since I was twelve years old.  I admit that they have taught me about being a female as a young woman, helped me feed my babies, and made me look  curvaceous in pretty clothes.  The unfortunate reality is that one of them has put me through CANCER, not once, but twice.  I have appreciated the functions that they have performed.  I do not appreciate  having them put me through the cancer process.

Two dear friends have suggested wisely that I need to let myself feel the anger that naturally follows grief.  In my way, I am dealing with my anger.  My anger propels me to dance, to walk, to motion.  It also urges me to towards singing.  Those are good things. 

Unfortunately it also propels me to eating.  Pass the chocolate?  YES PLEASE!  It is very annoying to me that in times of struggle I never once, not even once have craved something healthy, like perhaps brocolli?  (Can't seem to even spell the word, let alone crave it)!

Last time around I made a bit of a scene.  When traveling through the valley the doctors all weigh you.  This is critical to determine if your weight is changing.  Most people can't eat when they are facing this battle.  I was nauseous most of the time.  I couldn't eat regular food but  I craved chocolate chip malts like none other.  Not a shake....oh no, that malt was the most important.  There I stood on the scale, almost in tears.  I said to the nurse, "I might be dying from cancer, and I'm getting fat!"  This emotion seemed reasoned at the time.  Now I think, hmmmm, a little shallow maybe.  I was facing the possibility of death, but I was worried that I'd gained weight?

I can't speak about this anymore.  Most of the time when I write about my newest walk through the valley it helps me to sift, sort, and cope.  This morning it just seems to be making everything more real, bigger than I can cope.

Have you ever?

Have you ever had a moment in your life when you were busy, and there was always more to do than you had energy to achieve, and at any one time of the day you were just very busy, sometimes you've felt like there is more to do than you can do and you're VERY, VERY BUSY?  AND THEN...everything just STOPS.  When I was 34 that time arrived.  I was diagnosed with breast cancer in two parts of my breast.  I had two lumpectomies, and radiation.  I still had so much of life that I wanted to live.  I wanted to watch our two beautiful little girls grow up.  I wanted to have another baby.  I wanted to walk through life together with my soul mate and grow old together.

I went into remission.  I went to the funeral of my husband's secretary.  She was just a few years older than me.  She had two darling daughters about the same age as our girls.  She had breast cancer when I did.  She DIED...I got to live another 27 years.  When things were tough....1 year clear...5 years clear....10 years clear....25 years clear...I would remember this lovely woman and her courage and she inspired me to remember my blessings.

When I lived 27 years clear I drew a deep breath of relief.  I mean, come on, you don't get breast cancer again, in the same breast, after 27 years, right?  Apparently, I became complacent far too soon.  IT'S BACK and I'm not referring to the little girl's comment in The Poltergeist.  I opted for 2 lumpectomies and radiation the first time around.  I truly wish I would have just had the blessed breast removed 27 years ago.  AHHHH...hindsight....wouldn't it be lovely if we could see that lesson in advance instead of review?

I'm going to use this blog as a means to express my sorrows, my joys, my experiences while I once again walk through this dark valley.  The good news in all of this?  I am blessed with amazing family who are friends, and friends who are family.  I have never had a hard thing in my life when I was not blessed with loved ones to stand with me and help support me.

I know that I will have dark times as I face this newest battle.  Having said that, it never fails to amaze me that when you are faced with the possibility of your own mortality things that just don't matter fall away.  Your vision becomes laser sharp on those parts of life that DO matter.

Adventure?

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."  This is a famous Shakespearean quote.  In the newest Star War movies there are lots of battle scenes.  There are scenes where intergalactic flying vessels are shooting through the stars, trying to avoid a battle scene.  In genre the movie would be science fiction/action adventure.

Now we come to the "any other name."  I am going to list three scenarios and I would like the reader to categorize whether the thing listed is an adventure, or simply annoying with no positive value.  Here we go!

1.  You have a blowout tire.  You manage to wrest the car to the emergency lane.  You are, however, in the middle of nowhere Idaho.  You can't even get cell signal on your phone.  Don't  think too long on this situation.  Adventure or annoying?

2.  You're moving across country with your husband and four children.  Your car is filled to overflowing with humans, and their luggage.  Adventure or annoying?

3.  You're rappelling.  You happen to look down and realize that you are very, VERY high up on the face of a mountain.  Adventure or annoying?

My husband made a trip to the grocery store a grand adventure!  It often seemed to me that when he titled any experience an adventure it became one.  The lesson that he taught me and our children was that attitude can change things.  Our family motto is "Happy, Not Crappy."  I end with the same Shakespearean quote but phrased a bit differently, an adventure by any other name (like annoying) would provide progress and growth.