Thursday, July 26, 2018

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.


Monday, July 23, 2018

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.

Sunday, July 22, 2018

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.

Friday, July 20, 2018

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.