It is time to say goodbye.
This experience with you has been cathartic, introspective, and poignant in my life...but it is over.
I have tried repeatedly to find something to tell you, share with you...and as you saw from my last entry, I had to rely on someone else's story.
When I write of late, my words just break and melt...I am finished here.
I want to thank you for supporting me on this journey.
We won the battle.
Thank you for being my comrade in arms.
To God be the glory, great things He hath done!
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Pearls Before Breakfast
In Washington, DC, at a Metro Station, on a cold January morning in 2007, this man with a violin played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, approximately 2,000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After about 3 minutes, a middle-aged man noticed that there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds, and then he hurried on to meet his schedule.
About 4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At 6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes:
A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.
At 45 minutes:
The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all. No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:
*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made....
How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?
For me personally, I am beyond fatigued from rushing. Even after God showed me (and my family) the importance of slowing down, I pant in exhaustion.
If you are interested in reading the full story from the Washington Post, here is the link. Video of “Pearls Before Breakfast” accompanies the link.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html
About 4 minutes later:
The violinist received his first dollar. A woman threw money in the hat and, without stopping, continued to walk.
At 6 minutes:
A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.
At 10 minutes:
A 3-year old boy stopped, but his mother tugged him along hurriedly. The kid stopped to look at the violinist again, but the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head the whole time. This action was repeated by several other children, but every parent - without exception - forced their children to move on quickly.
At 45 minutes:
The musician played continuously. Only 6 people stopped and listened for a short while. About 20 gave money but continued to walk at their normal pace. The man collected a total of $32.
After 1 hour:
He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed and no one applauded. There was no recognition at all. No one knew this, but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the greatest musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold-out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100 each to sit and listen to him play the same music.
This is a true story. Joshua Bell, playing incognito in the D.C. Metro Station, was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities.
This experiment raised several questions:
*In a common-place environment, at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty?
*If so, do we stop to appreciate it?
*Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?
One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be this:
If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world, playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments ever made....
How many other things are we missing as we rush through life?
For me personally, I am beyond fatigued from rushing. Even after God showed me (and my family) the importance of slowing down, I pant in exhaustion.
If you are interested in reading the full story from the Washington Post, here is the link. Video of “Pearls Before Breakfast” accompanies the link.
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/04/AR2007040401721.html
Monday, January 31, 2011
Big Daddy's Fusion
His first surgery was the diskectomy which removed all of two disks in his lower spinal region. The disks separate and cushion the vertebrae. His second surgery was a spinal fusion because his vertebrae did not grow together after the first surgery. The pain and numbness continued and was even worse than before his first surgery. A spinal fusion is necessary when one of your disks herniates and the soft gel inside pushes through the wall of the disk. The disk then places pressure on the spinal cord and nerves that are coming out of the spinal column. Spinal fusion is surgery to join together vertebrae in the spine. Fusing permanently joins two bones together so there is no longer movement between them.
The spinal column above and below the fusion are more likely to be stressed when the spine moves, and have problems later. Also, if you needed more than one kind of back surgery (such as diskectomy and spinal fusion), you may have more of a chance of future problems.
Ah. That’s Big Daddy.
So, the first surgery was in November. The spinal fusion was this past Friday. Someone who had come to visit at the hospital commented that we had really been through a rough year and a half. Yep. We sure have. I then remembered everyone rallying around us saying that if we could just hold on for that one year of surgeries and chemo, we would be good to go. I finished my last chemo the end of September and less than a month later, Big Daddy “annihilated” two disks on October 20th.
The surgeon was so impressed by Big Daddy’s injury on the MRI films that he called in his colleagues to see them. “How is he walking?” Well, when you cross Superman with GI Joe, he walks despite the pain.
I thought it was interesting that the surgeon also said that Big Daddy had not “ruptured” his disks, like some mere, mortal man. No, no. Big Daddy had “annihilated” his disks.
Well, it does make for a better story and when more people than you can count consider you to be a superhero… So yeah, disk “annihilation” works.
So, here we are. Two spinal surgeries behind us and a very long rehab process in front of us. I have a whole lot of stories I would love to share with you but can’t. If there was a spectrum with my willingness to tell everything I know and Big Daddy’s desire for privacy, you would see polar opposites.
Suffice it to say, Big Daddy is recuperating well and we are so thankful for those who helped us through this second surgery. The visits, calls, texts, Facebook messages, emails, food, and of course, prayers helped more than any thank you note could ever express. Our family is surrounded by great people and tremendous blessings.
God is good ALL the time. Every day, every hour, every moment. Cancer didn’t do anything to us but make us stronger and the same can be said of our current situation…if I were allowed to talk about it…lol.
The spinal column above and below the fusion are more likely to be stressed when the spine moves, and have problems later. Also, if you needed more than one kind of back surgery (such as diskectomy and spinal fusion), you may have more of a chance of future problems.
Ah. That’s Big Daddy.
So, the first surgery was in November. The spinal fusion was this past Friday. Someone who had come to visit at the hospital commented that we had really been through a rough year and a half. Yep. We sure have. I then remembered everyone rallying around us saying that if we could just hold on for that one year of surgeries and chemo, we would be good to go. I finished my last chemo the end of September and less than a month later, Big Daddy “annihilated” two disks on October 20th.
The surgeon was so impressed by Big Daddy’s injury on the MRI films that he called in his colleagues to see them. “How is he walking?” Well, when you cross Superman with GI Joe, he walks despite the pain.
I thought it was interesting that the surgeon also said that Big Daddy had not “ruptured” his disks, like some mere, mortal man. No, no. Big Daddy had “annihilated” his disks.
Well, it does make for a better story and when more people than you can count consider you to be a superhero… So yeah, disk “annihilation” works.
So, here we are. Two spinal surgeries behind us and a very long rehab process in front of us. I have a whole lot of stories I would love to share with you but can’t. If there was a spectrum with my willingness to tell everything I know and Big Daddy’s desire for privacy, you would see polar opposites.
Suffice it to say, Big Daddy is recuperating well and we are so thankful for those who helped us through this second surgery. The visits, calls, texts, Facebook messages, emails, food, and of course, prayers helped more than any thank you note could ever express. Our family is surrounded by great people and tremendous blessings.
God is good ALL the time. Every day, every hour, every moment. Cancer didn’t do anything to us but make us stronger and the same can be said of our current situation…if I were allowed to talk about it…lol.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wicked
"Me thinks thou dost protest too much!"
I made it clear in my last post that I am not depressed or sad or anything like that.
Not that ANYONE will believe that I am fine after watching this video....
LOL
I really am, though. Promise.
This video has been in the works forever.
Big Daddy presented me with my be-all-end-all camera on Christmas 2009 and these photos were taken the next day-ish.
(Chemo brain...can't remember exact dates, ya know)
Anyway, I have held onto these photos because:
a. They were my FIRST photoshoot i.e., my first photoshoot idea come to fruition...and
b. I needed the perfect music to accompany the project.
And here we are, over one year later with my finished project.
Hey, "perfect" music is hard to find!
Again, no need to schedule an intervention...I really am fine...
Now, where did I put that bottle of pills....
My suggestion is to click on the YouTube icon for improved clarity and picture rather than watching on this page, but hey, do what you want.
I'm totally joking! I'm just seeing how long before one of my sisters call...
I made it clear in my last post that I am not depressed or sad or anything like that.
Not that ANYONE will believe that I am fine after watching this video....
LOL
I really am, though. Promise.
This video has been in the works forever.
Big Daddy presented me with my be-all-end-all camera on Christmas 2009 and these photos were taken the next day-ish.
(Chemo brain...can't remember exact dates, ya know)
Anyway, I have held onto these photos because:
a. They were my FIRST photoshoot i.e., my first photoshoot idea come to fruition...and
b. I needed the perfect music to accompany the project.
And here we are, over one year later with my finished project.
Hey, "perfect" music is hard to find!
Again, no need to schedule an intervention...I really am fine...
Now, where did I put that bottle of pills....
My suggestion is to click on the YouTube icon for improved clarity and picture rather than watching on this page, but hey, do what you want.
I'm totally joking! I'm just seeing how long before one of my sisters call...
Monday, January 17, 2011
On Being Pandora Spocks...
When I take pictures of people, I always try to get some candid shots.
I will sometimes also ask them to think about something that moves them or touches them.
The photos in this video reflect such shots and requests but it also shows a few pictures that are meaningful to me on a unique, hard to describe level.
I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.
I do find myself, however, plagued with questions to which I have no answers from time to time.
We stumble upon normalcy without realizing it and the same can be said of apathy.
Is this all there is to my life?
Why do I still hurt about wrongs long since buried?
Ah, shallow graves...
Silent blows....
Me...a porcelain grenade unsure of who is holding my pin.
I love moving songs even though the vast majority are considered sad.
Perhaps I am drawn to the melancholy because I am comfortable there.
Maybe we all are...
Ha ha ha...no, we are most certainly not! Are we?
I was speaking with a dear friend and told her that sometimes I get very tired of being "on". I feel like people expect me to make them laugh or cheer them up. At times, a heavy weight. My favorite place to be is in my house, by myself, when the rest of my family is safe and healthy, but not home. It is during these times that I am able to "just be me". I don't have to perform or make sure everyone is happy. I can do what I like and not worry about letting someone down or disappointing them. In other words, I can just think...
I often need peace and alone time in order to have a thought to myself, for myself. It is very difficult to find a minute in my life. Work, school, wounded warrior at home preparing for another surgery, teenagers, concerts, track meets, band events, friends, church, study time, career change, drive time, grocery shopping, doctor/dentist appointments, fundraising, cooking and my all-time favorite thing to do....housecleaning. Ugh...not!
I. Crave. Solitude.
My friend said that she wanted to say she understood but her biggest fear is actually to be alone. She went on to say that I was the absolute, funniest person she had ever known. Then she said that she had read somewhere that the vast majority of comedians battle depression. It is as if they live on two separate planes. The social plane of humor and ease and the plane of sadness or despondency when alone.
I asked her about a "happy medium" and she said she had no idea if I could ever find one. I asked what she meant and she said, "I have seen you 'perform' for years now but I can only recall once when you were completely vulnerable...and it made you completely suicidal".
I know exactly what time she was referring to. Years ago, but like the days my children were born, I can recall every moment...
I need time alone.
I need time alone to reconcile my planes.
I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.
I like to think. That's all. I like to be alone with my thoughts and find creative outlets for that which moves me. This video is the result of my being alone with myself. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I have pondered the meaning of life for years now. As a Christian, I know my role on earth. As a flawed human, I have questions, both philosophical as well as practical.
Is this all there is?
Did I matter?
If I drop the soap in the shower, is it dirty?
Why did he lie to me?
How do birds not run into each other when they change direction on a dime?
Why did she go out of her way to upset me?
I don't know the meaning of life beyond the calling and purpose of a Christian. I have figured out a few things, though...
Time passes regardless of it being your best friend or worst enemy.
Love waxes and wanes.
Jobs come and go and so do people.
Hearts break.
Parents die.
Children grow up and leave.
Life goes on. Cliche, but true.
Whining changes nothing and whiners, along with liars, piss me off more than anyone.
Hate eventually becomes apathy, and apathy IS the opposite of love.
People lie, break promises, and make excuses for all of it.
Everyone has an opinion on making things better but very few accept the responsibility of doing it.
Men lie.
Women cry.
And again, life goes on.
I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.
Music moves me. Photos move me. The pictures I have been blessed enough to capture that find their way into something else I have created, make me feel more complete.
I need to feel more complete...so I can go back and answer those hard questions I mentioned before...as well as the new ones I come up with every, single day while being me.
Whether or not I discover the meaning of life, I do hope you enjoy this music video.
Was I sad or depressed when I created this video?
Nope.
Reflective, melancholy, kind of mad?
Yeah.
Mad? Really?
Well, yeah. It goes back to the whole "whiners and liars" comment. Whiners make me mad just out of general principle and liars because I believe them. I guess in actuality, I am more angry at myself for trusting than I am at the liar himself. I believe people. I take people at their word. I see no reason to NOT tell the truth.
Sucker.
Stupid.
Naive.
So, yeah, I was reflective, melancholy and even a little mad when I made the video...but I dare say the combination of music and photography is hauntingly beautiful even though lacking smiling faces.
I am a kaleidoscope of emotion. Never boring. Sometimes a smile is merely a mask...
Do you see yourself in my words? Are we the same? Am I so different?
It's amazing how so few words can resonate for lifetimes...
Love, lies, loss...
Yours, mine, ours...
Happy, sad, simply thinking, reconciling my planes, being comfortable in the melancholy...just being...just being me.
My suggestion is to click the YouTube icon above for better clarity and sound.
Enjoy "Farewell"...
I will sometimes also ask them to think about something that moves them or touches them.
The photos in this video reflect such shots and requests but it also shows a few pictures that are meaningful to me on a unique, hard to describe level.
I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.
I do find myself, however, plagued with questions to which I have no answers from time to time.
We stumble upon normalcy without realizing it and the same can be said of apathy.
Is this all there is to my life?
Why do I still hurt about wrongs long since buried?
Ah, shallow graves...
Silent blows....
Me...a porcelain grenade unsure of who is holding my pin.
I love moving songs even though the vast majority are considered sad.
Perhaps I am drawn to the melancholy because I am comfortable there.
Maybe we all are...
Ha ha ha...no, we are most certainly not! Are we?
I was speaking with a dear friend and told her that sometimes I get very tired of being "on". I feel like people expect me to make them laugh or cheer them up. At times, a heavy weight. My favorite place to be is in my house, by myself, when the rest of my family is safe and healthy, but not home. It is during these times that I am able to "just be me". I don't have to perform or make sure everyone is happy. I can do what I like and not worry about letting someone down or disappointing them. In other words, I can just think...
I often need peace and alone time in order to have a thought to myself, for myself. It is very difficult to find a minute in my life. Work, school, wounded warrior at home preparing for another surgery, teenagers, concerts, track meets, band events, friends, church, study time, career change, drive time, grocery shopping, doctor/dentist appointments, fundraising, cooking and my all-time favorite thing to do....housecleaning. Ugh...not!
I. Crave. Solitude.
My friend said that she wanted to say she understood but her biggest fear is actually to be alone. She went on to say that I was the absolute, funniest person she had ever known. Then she said that she had read somewhere that the vast majority of comedians battle depression. It is as if they live on two separate planes. The social plane of humor and ease and the plane of sadness or despondency when alone.
I asked her about a "happy medium" and she said she had no idea if I could ever find one. I asked what she meant and she said, "I have seen you 'perform' for years now but I can only recall once when you were completely vulnerable...and it made you completely suicidal".
I know exactly what time she was referring to. Years ago, but like the days my children were born, I can recall every moment...
I need time alone.
I need time alone to reconcile my planes.
I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.
I like to think. That's all. I like to be alone with my thoughts and find creative outlets for that which moves me. This video is the result of my being alone with myself. Nothing more. Nothing less.
I have pondered the meaning of life for years now. As a Christian, I know my role on earth. As a flawed human, I have questions, both philosophical as well as practical.
Is this all there is?
Did I matter?
If I drop the soap in the shower, is it dirty?
Why did he lie to me?
How do birds not run into each other when they change direction on a dime?
Why did she go out of her way to upset me?
I don't know the meaning of life beyond the calling and purpose of a Christian. I have figured out a few things, though...
Time passes regardless of it being your best friend or worst enemy.
Love waxes and wanes.
Jobs come and go and so do people.
Hearts break.
Parents die.
Children grow up and leave.
Life goes on. Cliche, but true.
Whining changes nothing and whiners, along with liars, piss me off more than anyone.
Hate eventually becomes apathy, and apathy IS the opposite of love.
People lie, break promises, and make excuses for all of it.
Everyone has an opinion on making things better but very few accept the responsibility of doing it.
Men lie.
Women cry.
And again, life goes on.
I am not depressed.
I am not sad or lonely or upset.
Music moves me. Photos move me. The pictures I have been blessed enough to capture that find their way into something else I have created, make me feel more complete.
I need to feel more complete...so I can go back and answer those hard questions I mentioned before...as well as the new ones I come up with every, single day while being me.
Whether or not I discover the meaning of life, I do hope you enjoy this music video.
Was I sad or depressed when I created this video?
Nope.
Reflective, melancholy, kind of mad?
Yeah.
Mad? Really?
Well, yeah. It goes back to the whole "whiners and liars" comment. Whiners make me mad just out of general principle and liars because I believe them. I guess in actuality, I am more angry at myself for trusting than I am at the liar himself. I believe people. I take people at their word. I see no reason to NOT tell the truth.
Sucker.
Stupid.
Naive.
So, yeah, I was reflective, melancholy and even a little mad when I made the video...but I dare say the combination of music and photography is hauntingly beautiful even though lacking smiling faces.
I am a kaleidoscope of emotion. Never boring. Sometimes a smile is merely a mask...
Do you see yourself in my words? Are we the same? Am I so different?
It's amazing how so few words can resonate for lifetimes...
Love, lies, loss...
Yours, mine, ours...
Happy, sad, simply thinking, reconciling my planes, being comfortable in the melancholy...just being...just being me.
My suggestion is to click the YouTube icon above for better clarity and sound.
Enjoy "Farewell"...
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Needles and Hot Pockets
Big Daddy had been scheduled for another MRI at 8am. I didn’t have to be at the doctor’s office until 9:40, so maybe he would be finished in time to meet me there. Time ticked away and eventually Big Daddy called. He was finished at his appointment and was on his way to meet me at mine. This was my first post-chemo scan and my emotions did what they usually do…ignore my determination to not get “all caught up” in what could be.
I called Big Daddy as I drove to my appointment.
“Hey. I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to come if you don’t want to…I mean, I seem to be a bit emotional and I don’t know why and since I don’t know why it’s kind of hard for me to control it so if you just wanna meet me at the house after, we could do that and then maybe get some lunch or something of course, I have class tonight so I need to try and find my lab book…I found my lecture book, it was in the back of the truck but I think my lab book is on the big chair in the living room .”
No, really, he LOVES my run-on sentences in that one-octave higher than usual speaking voice.
“Traffic is moving a little slow but I’ll be there. I love you. See you in a minute.”
And there you have it.
I walked into the clinic and headed toward Registration. You learn the system pretty quickly when you visit so often. My immediate thought, as it always has been, is that I do not belong here. These people are sick. The vast majority of patients are elderly. Most with some sort of assisted walking device such as a walker or cane or wheelchair. I do not belong here. It is so obvious to me that I feel an almost anger rising up. This is new. I don’t recall feeling angry before. Maybe I did. As I have mentioned previously, I have no recollection of most things. The chemo-brain phenomenon presented itself not too long ago. As the snow accumulated outside, I cleaned out Precious Son’s closet and there they were…a pair of brand new, shiny patent leather black snow boots with soft, plush fur rimming the tops. Apparently I had purchased them last winter. It was like someone handing me the perfect gift, these boots. Ah, chemo-brain, where everything is new again.
Anger was rising inside of me because I was NOT sick, I was NOT old, and I was NOT going to drink that beyond-nasty gloop they give you before scans with contrast.
Pre-registration, done.
Radiology registration, in process.
The lady asked if I could please complete and update my information. Sure! Why not? I took the form and read the first question…
“Why are you being seen by us today?”
It was at this very moment that I was possessed by someone else. Someone mean and hateful and yucky. The “person” took over my hand and answered the question in a manner most unbecoming to me, the non-possessed.
“Why are you being seen by us today?”
The handwriting was nothing like mine. The letters were large, irregular and messy. The pen was leaving indentations from the pressure being applied as each letter was scrawled out for the world to see…
C A N C E R
Seeing it before me, having no real recollection of writing it, I just kind of stopped. The letters took up far more space than allowed by the template boxes. I stared at the writing. The writing that was not mine. The writing was from someone who was silently screaming through each individual letter.
C A N C E R
You know how you do that self-reflection kind of thing when you are pretty sure the world is crazy and it isn’t you but you sort of step back and take a mental inventory just to be sure? That’s where I was.
I just wrote “CANCER” as the answer to why I was being seen today.
Self-reflection…I wrote that and I am apparently angry inside. Wow. Who knew?
Well, there is a pretty good chance the lady handing me the forms picked up on my angst because while I was staring blankly at the paper, she said:
“Here are two bottles of dye for you to drink.”
“Actually, you can give me one because I can choke down about one third of one bottle before I start to puke.”
“Okie dokie, then! Here is one bottle. Do what you can, Honey.”
Obviously the “angry person” had not only taken over my handwriting but also my voice and dialog.
I answered the rest of the questions but my eyes continued to be drawn back to those letters…
C A N C E R
If I knew why or what I was feeling, I hope you know by now that I would share it with you, but I don’t know the answer to either.
Big Daddy came in and sat beside of me as I had completed the information update and was now forcing that horrible thick-quid down my throat.
I was shortly escorted back into the CT Scan area and they told Big Daddy he would have to wait outside of the door or in the lobby. He chose outside the door. I undressed and lie down while the techs gathered their needles and IV paraphernalia. I explained that I was a “hard stick” and that my veins blow and that I will cry. I asked if Big Daddy could please come in while they were putting the IV in if he promised to leave before the radiation started. They agreed, of course.
Big Daddy came in and took my left hand, and cradled it to his chest. I appreciated this gesture far more than I could put into words here but please remember, he just had spinal surgery and his range of motion is significantly reduced. Bending over seems so simple and commonplace, but it isn’t for him. Not anymore. And yet, there he was, bending over to hold my hand close to his heart.
I reminded the techs that they could only access my right arm because my left arm is off limits for sticks, blood pressure, and wearing my wedding band since the surgery. They understood. I needed to make sure they knew they were not only working with a limited tolerance level (me) but also with limited availability (sites). These sticks MUST count the FIRST time.
First vein, deep in the bend of my elbow, blows within sixty seconds.
Tears were already coming down and I was probably looking as pitiful as I felt. Big Daddy told me to keep looking at him, and I did. He also told me that for lunch we could just pick up some hot pockets, and put them in our coats for lunch. I was trying to concentrate on what he said but it didn’t make any sense. With as much vein-accessing-distraction as humanly possible, I asked what on earth he was talking about.
“Well, with my MRI this morning and your CT now, we should have enough radiation between us to cook up some hot pockets if we have them in our coats and hold hands”.
I laughed. The techs laughed. Big Daddy laughed. The needle was in.
Second vein, just below my wrist bone works just long enough to complete the scan and then it blows, too.
This was a good day because the test was actually completed before the vein blew more than twice.
Big Daddy was waiting for me just outside the door, of course, and we headed downstairs to the lab for my blood draw. Again, the place was full of sick people, old people, people not like me somehow.
The phlebotomist accessed the deep vein in the crook of my arm, just above where the vein had blown before. Now, with a blood draw, there is no catheter and they can use a butterfly needle, which she did and all was well.
My oncology visit went well and Dr. Horn said that he would see us in three months for the next round of blood work.
“No scans?”
“Nope, just blood work.”
“Well, ok then! See you in three months!”
And off we went, Big Daddy and I, to pick up some hot pockets for lunch.
Sometimes you just have to put anger, whether understandable or not, in the back seat for a while and get yourself some lunch.
I called Big Daddy as I drove to my appointment.
“Hey. I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to come if you don’t want to…I mean, I seem to be a bit emotional and I don’t know why and since I don’t know why it’s kind of hard for me to control it so if you just wanna meet me at the house after, we could do that and then maybe get some lunch or something of course, I have class tonight so I need to try and find my lab book…I found my lecture book, it was in the back of the truck but I think my lab book is on the big chair in the living room .”
No, really, he LOVES my run-on sentences in that one-octave higher than usual speaking voice.
“Traffic is moving a little slow but I’ll be there. I love you. See you in a minute.”
And there you have it.
I walked into the clinic and headed toward Registration. You learn the system pretty quickly when you visit so often. My immediate thought, as it always has been, is that I do not belong here. These people are sick. The vast majority of patients are elderly. Most with some sort of assisted walking device such as a walker or cane or wheelchair. I do not belong here. It is so obvious to me that I feel an almost anger rising up. This is new. I don’t recall feeling angry before. Maybe I did. As I have mentioned previously, I have no recollection of most things. The chemo-brain phenomenon presented itself not too long ago. As the snow accumulated outside, I cleaned out Precious Son’s closet and there they were…a pair of brand new, shiny patent leather black snow boots with soft, plush fur rimming the tops. Apparently I had purchased them last winter. It was like someone handing me the perfect gift, these boots. Ah, chemo-brain, where everything is new again.
Anger was rising inside of me because I was NOT sick, I was NOT old, and I was NOT going to drink that beyond-nasty gloop they give you before scans with contrast.
Pre-registration, done.
Radiology registration, in process.
The lady asked if I could please complete and update my information. Sure! Why not? I took the form and read the first question…
“Why are you being seen by us today?”
It was at this very moment that I was possessed by someone else. Someone mean and hateful and yucky. The “person” took over my hand and answered the question in a manner most unbecoming to me, the non-possessed.
“Why are you being seen by us today?”
The handwriting was nothing like mine. The letters were large, irregular and messy. The pen was leaving indentations from the pressure being applied as each letter was scrawled out for the world to see…
C A N C E R
Seeing it before me, having no real recollection of writing it, I just kind of stopped. The letters took up far more space than allowed by the template boxes. I stared at the writing. The writing that was not mine. The writing was from someone who was silently screaming through each individual letter.
C A N C E R
You know how you do that self-reflection kind of thing when you are pretty sure the world is crazy and it isn’t you but you sort of step back and take a mental inventory just to be sure? That’s where I was.
I just wrote “CANCER” as the answer to why I was being seen today.
Self-reflection…I wrote that and I am apparently angry inside. Wow. Who knew?
Well, there is a pretty good chance the lady handing me the forms picked up on my angst because while I was staring blankly at the paper, she said:
“Here are two bottles of dye for you to drink.”
“Actually, you can give me one because I can choke down about one third of one bottle before I start to puke.”
“Okie dokie, then! Here is one bottle. Do what you can, Honey.”
Obviously the “angry person” had not only taken over my handwriting but also my voice and dialog.
I answered the rest of the questions but my eyes continued to be drawn back to those letters…
C A N C E R
If I knew why or what I was feeling, I hope you know by now that I would share it with you, but I don’t know the answer to either.
Big Daddy came in and sat beside of me as I had completed the information update and was now forcing that horrible thick-quid down my throat.
I was shortly escorted back into the CT Scan area and they told Big Daddy he would have to wait outside of the door or in the lobby. He chose outside the door. I undressed and lie down while the techs gathered their needles and IV paraphernalia. I explained that I was a “hard stick” and that my veins blow and that I will cry. I asked if Big Daddy could please come in while they were putting the IV in if he promised to leave before the radiation started. They agreed, of course.
Big Daddy came in and took my left hand, and cradled it to his chest. I appreciated this gesture far more than I could put into words here but please remember, he just had spinal surgery and his range of motion is significantly reduced. Bending over seems so simple and commonplace, but it isn’t for him. Not anymore. And yet, there he was, bending over to hold my hand close to his heart.
I reminded the techs that they could only access my right arm because my left arm is off limits for sticks, blood pressure, and wearing my wedding band since the surgery. They understood. I needed to make sure they knew they were not only working with a limited tolerance level (me) but also with limited availability (sites). These sticks MUST count the FIRST time.
First vein, deep in the bend of my elbow, blows within sixty seconds.
Tears were already coming down and I was probably looking as pitiful as I felt. Big Daddy told me to keep looking at him, and I did. He also told me that for lunch we could just pick up some hot pockets, and put them in our coats for lunch. I was trying to concentrate on what he said but it didn’t make any sense. With as much vein-accessing-distraction as humanly possible, I asked what on earth he was talking about.
“Well, with my MRI this morning and your CT now, we should have enough radiation between us to cook up some hot pockets if we have them in our coats and hold hands”.
I laughed. The techs laughed. Big Daddy laughed. The needle was in.
Second vein, just below my wrist bone works just long enough to complete the scan and then it blows, too.
This was a good day because the test was actually completed before the vein blew more than twice.
Big Daddy was waiting for me just outside the door, of course, and we headed downstairs to the lab for my blood draw. Again, the place was full of sick people, old people, people not like me somehow.
The phlebotomist accessed the deep vein in the crook of my arm, just above where the vein had blown before. Now, with a blood draw, there is no catheter and they can use a butterfly needle, which she did and all was well.
My oncology visit went well and Dr. Horn said that he would see us in three months for the next round of blood work.
“No scans?”
“Nope, just blood work.”
“Well, ok then! See you in three months!”
And off we went, Big Daddy and I, to pick up some hot pockets for lunch.
Sometimes you just have to put anger, whether understandable or not, in the back seat for a while and get yourself some lunch.
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Truest Things...
There is an ancient belief that the Mute Swan is completely mute during its lifetime until the moment just before it dies, and then it sings one achingly beautiful song… The Swan Song.
Now, this is not a true belief, although it has made for captivating stories. Aesop, Shakespeare, Tennyson each found the myth to be story-worthy. Even as Socrates was being put to death, referenced the legend of the swan’s song. In actuality, the Mute Swan hisses and honks, it just does not call or bugle like other swans.
This may be my swan song. I am flying out on Monday, January 3rd, for the west coast. I will be heading to Ft. Lewis, Washington and Coronado, California. For those of you who have known me a long time, you will recollect that I have never been anywhere by myself. Even before the diagnosis, Big Daddy has made sure that I do not travel alone. In fact, for those of you who are most familiar with me, you know that I am not even allowed downtown past the Herald-Misleader building. (That is where we begin one-way streets and I am easily lost with a homing device embedded that draws me like a magnet to the more “seedier” parts of any town.) Actually, I have become quite turned around in my own neighborhood, so it is not without tremendous concern that my family is watching me pack.
Of course, we lived in Europe for three years and I did manage to make it back from there, having never taken a German, French, or Austrian speaking lesson in my life prior to our arrival. Of course, I had escorts there and we walked most places outside of weekend getaways that Big Daddy chauffeured. There was the time in Paris, France, when I was so convinced that total-strangers-but-older-than-us-therefore-they-must-be-wiser-than-us-Americans were about to board to the correct train heading back to our hotel in the heart of the city. I wanted to follow those people. I wanted to get on the same train as they did because surely to goodness, they knew what they were doing seeing as how they were at least in their mid-thirties! Big Daddy looked me in the eye and said, “Follow them if you want to, but I am telling you they are getting on the wrong train”. It was a physical feat to NOT board that train with those total strangers and to stay with Big Daddy and trust him.
We waited and then boarded the train that Big Daddy said would take us back to our hotel. As we stepped off the platform and could see the area familiar to us, to me, I knew Big Daddy had been right. Why on earth would I have thought it smarter to follow perfect strangers, even if much older ones, rather than believe he knew what he was doing. As it turns out, that was a life-changing moment for me. I never doubted Big Daddy’s sense of direction after that. I knew that he had traveled the world and was far more capable of finding his way home than I ever could be. Life lesson. Lesson learned.
I guess that instance changed something in Big Daddy’s head, too. “She will get lost in paper bag with a blinking exit sign and bread crumbs to follow.” Pretty accurate, I guess. I have been turned around in some of the biggest AND smallest cities AND towns on two continents. Honestly, it IS a wonder I make it home as often as I do, which brings me to commentary for my upcoming trip…alone.
I have never flown alone. I have never been to the west coast. I have never stayed in a hotel by myself. I have never even driven more than 30 minutes by myself, that I can recall. I always have Big Daddy or the kids with me. I remember the panic on Big Daddy’s face when I was called back for a third interview in Cincinnati knowing if I took the position, I would have to drive over an hour every day, each way, in and out of a rather large city with plenty of one-way streets and that embedded “hood magnet” device somewhere in my brain. He even entertained the idea of us renting an apartment so that I would not have to travel back and forth so much. (He also thinks I am the worst driver in the history of mankind…)
In downtown Louisville, Big Daddy said to me, “Stop looking like a tourist” to which I replied, “But I AM a tourist”. Of course, he was trying to make us appear as non-targets while I was looking straight up at the architectural wonders of the buildings sizing up photo opportunities. Basically all I was missing was a flashing neon sign that said “Easy Prey. Mug Me.”
He and I really do live in different worlds…
So, here I am, about to board a 757 bound for the great states of Washington and California and I am relatively sure that the plane will fall out of the sky before I ever see the Pacific Ocean. Why? I don’t know. Am I genuinely afraid that something will happen and I won’t return home? I don’t know. Is the excitement of it all outweighing the fear of gravity itself figuring out that planes can’t fly getting to me? I don’t know.
I have a list of our “life documents” ready for Big Daddy in case something does happen. It has our account numbers for life insurance policies, 401K information, and how much my company will automatically pay for my demise while on company business. Should be enough for a very nice funeral, by the way. Speaking of my funeral, I have already written up the funeral program. I have listed my Honorary Pallbearers (I want to be cremated which should work out fine if I am in a plane crash) and the songs I would like to have played. I did want to have my photo montage ready to go so that Big Daddy and the kids wouldn’t have to mess with it, but I haven’t managed to do that as of today. I don’t want food at my funeral. I think that’s weird. I don’t want a bunch of crying and carrying on because if you know me at all, you know I would much rather prefer you laugh. That is why I tried so hard to be funny…to hear your laughter.
Anyway, I do have a few things that went undone and I don’t foresee that changing before I board my Delta flight to the west. I am assuming I will become published after my death because that is usually the way it goes and just so you know, that really sucks. I have some things on a jump drive that I will leave for my family to peruse at their discretion. A portrait of me, so to speak… Childhood memories, a list of my favorite things, songs, stories, you know, just in case they ever forget later on and want to remember. I have given instructions to two people on where I hid the gold. Still, so many things left unfinished… I feel quite incomplete.
I don’t really have any unfinished business with anyone. I believe I have apologized to those I have wronged. I cleaned out all my clothes that I held on to because of denial of my bilateral mastectomy and the ability to wear such clothes again. I gave away my sexy shoes along with my desire to dress up in high heels ever again. Several pair had never even been worn. What does THAT say?? Hahaha It actually says I am 5’11” and don’t need to wear heels.
As for our children, our son is employed and learning how to manage his own finances, so I consider that a huge plus as he nears his time to leave home and embark on his college career. Precious Son remains committed to become a youth minister in the Christian church as this has long since been his passion. Listening to my son pray makes my heart swell and tears fall. Our daughter has become an amazing young woman with a heart for missions and a sense of humor that leaves me laughing until my sides hurt. On Christmas, she showed me the one lesson I had wanted her to learn, she finally had.
It occurred to me that even though our children never had the honor and privilege to know my parents in flesh, they know them in spirit. Their Grandfather Kyle, was a devoted disciple of the Lord and minister within the Christian church, and our son follows in his footsteps. Their Grandmother Kyle, a selfless volunteer who showed Christ to those less fortunate, those who were sick and weak, and to those who knew Him not…and our daughter seeks to emulate her kind and generous benevolence. My parents were living examples of humility, graciousness, and honor.
My parents live on…
Will I?
Is this my compulsion? To live on? Is this urgency I feel to get my things in order more about the plane falling out of the sky or the cancer returning?
I have my first post-chemo scans in January. I asked my company if I could make this trip the first week of January for a couple of reasons.
1. If I die in a plane crash, I won’t have to be stuck with needles for the scans with contrast as my tests begin the second week of January.
2. If the scans show the cancer is back, I will have had a worry-free trip before finding out.
Maybe they are silly reasons, but they are mine. I have tried to explain how much I LOATHE needles and if I can avoid having them stuck into me, I will. Now, you may think it a tad far-fetched to plan a multi-destination trip in relation to my needle-necessary appointments, and it may very well be, however, how would I feel free-falling through the sky to my death while still sporting black and blue marks from the needle sticks that weren’t necessary anyway because I didn’t die of cancer but instead, a plane crash? Exactly. Think of it this way…those people on the Titanic who didn’t eat dessert? Yep. A stupid, stupid waste. At least this way, if one of the planes crash, I can chuckle to myself on the way down.
The biggest, most thought-consuming things I wish I had done before I fly out on Monday…
1. Organize our photos. I had said I would do this while off from work during chemo, however, chemo had other plans for my time.
2. Create my funeral montage. Now, it will be up to my family to choose photos that represented my life as opposed to my choosing photos in which I look thin.
3. Have my writings published, of course. There are more than just this blog. I believe some of my best work has yet to be seen. Actually, aren’t the writings of an author their way of glomming on to eternity?
Of course, there are always the questions looming in my mind about if I was a solid Christian, a better-than-the bestest mom, a loving and devoted wife, a generous friend, etc. As I grew older, I realized how important it is to honor my word and my promises. I learned through God’s grace not be judgmental despite being beyond excellent at it. I learned that people are imperfect and this includes me. I discovered that the people with all the answers are the ones with the wrong questions. Perhaps most hurtful of all was learning that an awful lot of Christians preach love but do not extend it. I know. I used to be one of them. Thank You, God, for never giving up on me…even when I gave up on myself.
So, here I am, writing “just in case”, wishing I could have some poignant quote to sign off with. Some words that would live on through the ages that others would want to quote. My favorite quotes are from Jack Handey. That, alone, makes me laugh. Yes, my words in quotation marks, followed by that little, squiggly line and then my name…
“Lower the bar.” ~Pandora Spocks
“Yes, even on New Circle, I AM the pace car!” ~Pandora Spocks
“There is a level of stupidity here that surpasses all understanding.” ~Pandora Spocks
“If I wanted you to hear me, I wouldn’t have whispered.” ~Pandora Spocks
“There is something to be said for slipping some people a mickey.” ~Pandora Spocks
“The greatest inventions ever include electricity, indoor plumbing, and Hershey bars.” ~Pandora Spocks
“Love. Forgive. Extend mercy and grace. Show Christ.” ~Dawn Kyle Stiltner
Now, this is not a true belief, although it has made for captivating stories. Aesop, Shakespeare, Tennyson each found the myth to be story-worthy. Even as Socrates was being put to death, referenced the legend of the swan’s song. In actuality, the Mute Swan hisses and honks, it just does not call or bugle like other swans.
This may be my swan song. I am flying out on Monday, January 3rd, for the west coast. I will be heading to Ft. Lewis, Washington and Coronado, California. For those of you who have known me a long time, you will recollect that I have never been anywhere by myself. Even before the diagnosis, Big Daddy has made sure that I do not travel alone. In fact, for those of you who are most familiar with me, you know that I am not even allowed downtown past the Herald-Misleader building. (That is where we begin one-way streets and I am easily lost with a homing device embedded that draws me like a magnet to the more “seedier” parts of any town.) Actually, I have become quite turned around in my own neighborhood, so it is not without tremendous concern that my family is watching me pack.
Of course, we lived in Europe for three years and I did manage to make it back from there, having never taken a German, French, or Austrian speaking lesson in my life prior to our arrival. Of course, I had escorts there and we walked most places outside of weekend getaways that Big Daddy chauffeured. There was the time in Paris, France, when I was so convinced that total-strangers-but-older-than-us-therefore-they-must-be-wiser-than-us-Americans were about to board to the correct train heading back to our hotel in the heart of the city. I wanted to follow those people. I wanted to get on the same train as they did because surely to goodness, they knew what they were doing seeing as how they were at least in their mid-thirties! Big Daddy looked me in the eye and said, “Follow them if you want to, but I am telling you they are getting on the wrong train”. It was a physical feat to NOT board that train with those total strangers and to stay with Big Daddy and trust him.
We waited and then boarded the train that Big Daddy said would take us back to our hotel. As we stepped off the platform and could see the area familiar to us, to me, I knew Big Daddy had been right. Why on earth would I have thought it smarter to follow perfect strangers, even if much older ones, rather than believe he knew what he was doing. As it turns out, that was a life-changing moment for me. I never doubted Big Daddy’s sense of direction after that. I knew that he had traveled the world and was far more capable of finding his way home than I ever could be. Life lesson. Lesson learned.
I guess that instance changed something in Big Daddy’s head, too. “She will get lost in paper bag with a blinking exit sign and bread crumbs to follow.” Pretty accurate, I guess. I have been turned around in some of the biggest AND smallest cities AND towns on two continents. Honestly, it IS a wonder I make it home as often as I do, which brings me to commentary for my upcoming trip…alone.
I have never flown alone. I have never been to the west coast. I have never stayed in a hotel by myself. I have never even driven more than 30 minutes by myself, that I can recall. I always have Big Daddy or the kids with me. I remember the panic on Big Daddy’s face when I was called back for a third interview in Cincinnati knowing if I took the position, I would have to drive over an hour every day, each way, in and out of a rather large city with plenty of one-way streets and that embedded “hood magnet” device somewhere in my brain. He even entertained the idea of us renting an apartment so that I would not have to travel back and forth so much. (He also thinks I am the worst driver in the history of mankind…)
In downtown Louisville, Big Daddy said to me, “Stop looking like a tourist” to which I replied, “But I AM a tourist”. Of course, he was trying to make us appear as non-targets while I was looking straight up at the architectural wonders of the buildings sizing up photo opportunities. Basically all I was missing was a flashing neon sign that said “Easy Prey. Mug Me.”
He and I really do live in different worlds…
So, here I am, about to board a 757 bound for the great states of Washington and California and I am relatively sure that the plane will fall out of the sky before I ever see the Pacific Ocean. Why? I don’t know. Am I genuinely afraid that something will happen and I won’t return home? I don’t know. Is the excitement of it all outweighing the fear of gravity itself figuring out that planes can’t fly getting to me? I don’t know.
I have a list of our “life documents” ready for Big Daddy in case something does happen. It has our account numbers for life insurance policies, 401K information, and how much my company will automatically pay for my demise while on company business. Should be enough for a very nice funeral, by the way. Speaking of my funeral, I have already written up the funeral program. I have listed my Honorary Pallbearers (I want to be cremated which should work out fine if I am in a plane crash) and the songs I would like to have played. I did want to have my photo montage ready to go so that Big Daddy and the kids wouldn’t have to mess with it, but I haven’t managed to do that as of today. I don’t want food at my funeral. I think that’s weird. I don’t want a bunch of crying and carrying on because if you know me at all, you know I would much rather prefer you laugh. That is why I tried so hard to be funny…to hear your laughter.
Anyway, I do have a few things that went undone and I don’t foresee that changing before I board my Delta flight to the west. I am assuming I will become published after my death because that is usually the way it goes and just so you know, that really sucks. I have some things on a jump drive that I will leave for my family to peruse at their discretion. A portrait of me, so to speak… Childhood memories, a list of my favorite things, songs, stories, you know, just in case they ever forget later on and want to remember. I have given instructions to two people on where I hid the gold. Still, so many things left unfinished… I feel quite incomplete.
I don’t really have any unfinished business with anyone. I believe I have apologized to those I have wronged. I cleaned out all my clothes that I held on to because of denial of my bilateral mastectomy and the ability to wear such clothes again. I gave away my sexy shoes along with my desire to dress up in high heels ever again. Several pair had never even been worn. What does THAT say?? Hahaha It actually says I am 5’11” and don’t need to wear heels.
As for our children, our son is employed and learning how to manage his own finances, so I consider that a huge plus as he nears his time to leave home and embark on his college career. Precious Son remains committed to become a youth minister in the Christian church as this has long since been his passion. Listening to my son pray makes my heart swell and tears fall. Our daughter has become an amazing young woman with a heart for missions and a sense of humor that leaves me laughing until my sides hurt. On Christmas, she showed me the one lesson I had wanted her to learn, she finally had.
It occurred to me that even though our children never had the honor and privilege to know my parents in flesh, they know them in spirit. Their Grandfather Kyle, was a devoted disciple of the Lord and minister within the Christian church, and our son follows in his footsteps. Their Grandmother Kyle, a selfless volunteer who showed Christ to those less fortunate, those who were sick and weak, and to those who knew Him not…and our daughter seeks to emulate her kind and generous benevolence. My parents were living examples of humility, graciousness, and honor.
My parents live on…
Will I?
Is this my compulsion? To live on? Is this urgency I feel to get my things in order more about the plane falling out of the sky or the cancer returning?
I have my first post-chemo scans in January. I asked my company if I could make this trip the first week of January for a couple of reasons.
1. If I die in a plane crash, I won’t have to be stuck with needles for the scans with contrast as my tests begin the second week of January.
2. If the scans show the cancer is back, I will have had a worry-free trip before finding out.
Maybe they are silly reasons, but they are mine. I have tried to explain how much I LOATHE needles and if I can avoid having them stuck into me, I will. Now, you may think it a tad far-fetched to plan a multi-destination trip in relation to my needle-necessary appointments, and it may very well be, however, how would I feel free-falling through the sky to my death while still sporting black and blue marks from the needle sticks that weren’t necessary anyway because I didn’t die of cancer but instead, a plane crash? Exactly. Think of it this way…those people on the Titanic who didn’t eat dessert? Yep. A stupid, stupid waste. At least this way, if one of the planes crash, I can chuckle to myself on the way down.
The biggest, most thought-consuming things I wish I had done before I fly out on Monday…
1. Organize our photos. I had said I would do this while off from work during chemo, however, chemo had other plans for my time.
2. Create my funeral montage. Now, it will be up to my family to choose photos that represented my life as opposed to my choosing photos in which I look thin.
3. Have my writings published, of course. There are more than just this blog. I believe some of my best work has yet to be seen. Actually, aren’t the writings of an author their way of glomming on to eternity?
Of course, there are always the questions looming in my mind about if I was a solid Christian, a better-than-the bestest mom, a loving and devoted wife, a generous friend, etc. As I grew older, I realized how important it is to honor my word and my promises. I learned through God’s grace not be judgmental despite being beyond excellent at it. I learned that people are imperfect and this includes me. I discovered that the people with all the answers are the ones with the wrong questions. Perhaps most hurtful of all was learning that an awful lot of Christians preach love but do not extend it. I know. I used to be one of them. Thank You, God, for never giving up on me…even when I gave up on myself.
So, here I am, writing “just in case”, wishing I could have some poignant quote to sign off with. Some words that would live on through the ages that others would want to quote. My favorite quotes are from Jack Handey. That, alone, makes me laugh. Yes, my words in quotation marks, followed by that little, squiggly line and then my name…
“Lower the bar.” ~Pandora Spocks
“Yes, even on New Circle, I AM the pace car!” ~Pandora Spocks
“There is a level of stupidity here that surpasses all understanding.” ~Pandora Spocks
“If I wanted you to hear me, I wouldn’t have whispered.” ~Pandora Spocks
“There is something to be said for slipping some people a mickey.” ~Pandora Spocks
“The greatest inventions ever include electricity, indoor plumbing, and Hershey bars.” ~Pandora Spocks
“Love. Forgive. Extend mercy and grace. Show Christ.” ~Dawn Kyle Stiltner
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