Peace....

Be still and know that I am God    Psalm 46:10

            Last week I went up and down 17 each and every day to Wilmington and this was on a church sign down around Ogden. I saw it each and every time; coming and going.  And each and every time it made me smile and gave me peace. 

            Tonight I know I am going to need that peace tomorrow (I’d be lying if I said I was not looking forward to the valium tomorrow, as I see peace there as well).  However, today was exactly what I needed.

            As it does most Sundays, my day started at church (I stopped at Dollar General on my way to get enough sugar for my class to make the parents hate me so parents consider that my gift to you this week!).  It was a busy Sunday with lots going on and I ended up playing musical pews to fit people in ( for those who know me I pretty much like my corner of the world on Sunday but since most of the kids were singing in the choir I was accommodating – gold star for me!).  The kids sang 2 songs and did great—too darn cute and I was so proud as most of my class had solos and well, anytime the kids are up there you have to just smile—you never know what they are going to do.  Then the choir kids were joined by those not in the choir and to say there were a ton of them, does not do it justice.  It was a wonderful sight and I was thanking God I was not the one doing the talk (great to see Rachel and her gang, boy does time fly).

            The classes went back and after getting all the kids in their right places, I got to mine and for some unknown reason felt this strange feeling of peace come over me as I went in (and yes, for those of you who know my class, it scared me too).  They tend not to listen at times and I will say today they were rather good (and a bit sheepish when I reminded them I was not happy with them after last week’s prayer disaster).  It was as if they knew I needed them to tone it down.  One thing about the kids is they know about the cancer and they will ask questions.  I answer them as honestly as I can, without gory details (thought I think the boys would like to hear them).  I did my “what praises did you have last week” and after everyone went, Josie asked me if I had a praise.  I thought a moment and then told them I made it through the week with not having too much problem with the needles (they know that is what scares me—I think that was last week, but who can remember).  They thought I was nuts (I did not let them know I agreed with them).   Then we talked about setting good examples for others and one was getting mad at others and how that was not a good example.  You should have heard them when I told them on Friday I was mad at God—whoa… that got them! Sam gave me that “you better explain look” and Josie yelled “what?! “and I got looks from the rest of them.  I then explained how I was upset the one test I took could not be read (muga) and that I needed to take another so I was mad.  I then told them I immediately apologized to God and I was not mad at him, but at the situation.  And isn’t it great that all we have to do is ask for forgiveness and mean it.  They got it! Gold stars for them!

            Anyway, the day continued with lots if well wishes, breakfast with friends and then an hour and half at work getting the end of the month reports caught up.

  Let’s break for a moment as I would like to take this opportunity to repeat the following as it did happen after I left work:  I called Billy (who was on call this weekend) and when he answered, I knew it had to have been a long weekend.  I laughed and said “oh boy… long weekend?”  He said “Yes and I am on call until 7am and I have 2 cases in the morning.” I said “wanna switch?”  total silence... I was loving it… so I said it again “wanna switch?”  He finally did one of those awkward laughs and obviously still did not know what to say so I let him off the hook “don’t worry, I got it covered.”  (And yes, it has been this way his whole life. You would think he would have caught on by now).

Back to my day, it was normal, it was peaceful and it was exactly what I needed before I start the next step in the morning.

            The next step has started, I have taken the pills I have been told and will be at the doctors at 8:45 am tomorrow to meet with him before the chemo begins.  Am I nervous… hell yes.  I am going to be really ticked at Portia if she decides Ernest needs to take her place.  I will be ticked if for some unknown reason I can’t start as the planner in me is ready.  I will be really ticked if the anti nausea drug does not work.  In about 13 hours, the next step begins and in about 12  hours I will be driving by that church sign and although they may have changed the sign by now, I know what will always be in my mind and heart each and every time I pass by.

One day closer....

The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray… John Steinbeck

            As I have mentioned before, I am a planner.  For the most part, I always have my trusty day planner and appointments, meetings etc are noted.  Heck, I even use different colored pens at times.  And up until recently, have also been able to rely on my brain which again, up until recently, was basically a carbon copy of my day planner (and before this is pointed out by anyone who has, had or still works for me, this does not pertain to work schedules.  Once that sucker is done, it has left the brain).   The day planner part of my brain has officially gone on strike.  Zip, Nada, nothing. 

            I hate it… but strangely enough, I am accepting this more and more each day.  I tried to do a February work schedule with me on it and I just can’t.  I have no clue what is going to happen and how I am going to react to the chemo (something I will address shortly).  I cannot plan.  I have things I have to do, things which were scheduled before all of this started and I cannot plan for them.  I will do my best, but unlike even a few weeks ago, if I can’t, I can’t.

            Let’s talk about today.  Today was the CT scan.  I had this lovely supposedly tasteless crap I needed to add to 16 oz of liquid and drink 3 hours before and then the rest of it 1 hour before.  Tasteless my butt...ruined a perfectly good glass of ice tea the first time around and one of those flavored waters the second time.  So Stephanie comes to get me and we are ready to go.  Too bad I did not read (or remember) the instructions.  Nothing metal, no beads, etc.  They are definitely used to brainless people as she handed me one of those tops.  I then got the lowdown on what was going to happen.  I was pretty good with it all and even did well with the needle and IV.  She explained when the contrast was added it would be a strange warm feeling.  Told her I could handle it.  So, since I had a zipper on my pants (I did refrain from saying pull up pants are for really, really old people as be careful of what you say was going through my head) my jeans had to be pulled down to my knees.  As I am going into this machine, with my arms up and my pants down all I could think of was damn, hope I don’t have a heart attack here and then she adds the contrast.  Wow—it hit the belly and then the bladder—which actually scared me for a moment as it was so warm… and just use your imagination.  Whew, I was worried.  (side note—I now have a bag with sweats packed… just in case).  This all took less than 10 minutes and I was done until the chemo class.  Mom and I had plenty of time to go and eat.  Good thing too as while we were sitting there I really did feel funny and actually told her.  And for those of you who know Mom, for me to admit that, I must have been worried.  She immediately asks “are you going to faint?” and being the smart child who knew better this time, instead of the usual how the hell do I know retort, I simply said “I don’t think so.”  She replied, “well at least you are sitting down.”   Yeah, that really makes a difference if I faint and crash to the floor as I will still crash to the floor and I will still hit my head which houses my brain which is apparently having issues to begin with.  Needless to say, I did not faint and she did not even ask for the car keys.

            So we go back and I get my chemo class with Lauren and Shelia, both chemo nurses.  The DVD was interesting.  One of those educational things which was in simple terms. I got to hear all about the possible side effects.  Lovely…  Then Lauren explained the chemo drugs and their side effects.  None of which apparently happen on the same day… lovely again.  She then explained that some people experience weight gain.    Here I was all excited I would LOSE weight courtesy of the chemo diet and there she is telling me I might be one of those who gains.   Well, crap.  And to think I have already PLANNED what I was going to wear to Christine’s wedding, she sucked the joy right out of that. We then took a tour of the chemo room; not too bad and I can bring food with me too.  I just can’t wait.  And the best part of it all, if I have to pee, I can unhook the bag and drag it with me, not to mention I can walk around if I have the urge.  Gotta look at the bright side. 

            Speaking of the bright side, when I got home, I had a package waiting for me.  Due to the fact I know I am going to lose my hair, I wanted to get some hats ( I am planning on a wig, will get that set up in the am, but have no fear, I have no guts to go crazy so no Lady Gaga) and I also got what looks to be like  road kill.  It is hair for under a hat.  When I showed it to Gaye, she told me just to go bald and wear a scarf or hat to work.  But I was determined.  It is hilarious… I tried to put it on, but it does not work with the hair I have now, so I will wait.  I might have to get Kim to trim it as it seems to be a wee bit long in the bangs. But the hats are cute and I was able to put my hair up and get a little bit of an idea what bald might look like.   I am screwed.  And on that note, I am going to bed to get ready for more tests tomorrow, and to make it one more day closer to being able to plan.   Jeremiah 29:11.

God will never give us more than we can handle

Dear God,

We really need to talk about this never giving someone more than they can handle.  I think I might be there.  Yes, I know you know best, but still…. I would really like to have my arms back to semi normal before the other stuff starts.  You know I sleep much better on my side then on my back.  Besides, I am waking Gwinny up with my snoring, and usually it is the other way around. 

I would like to thank you for giving me awesome, awesome doctors, nurses and support staff.  Dr Kotz will be great and I think I really got some gold stars when I told him I too work with the public and yes, people are idiots.  He seemed to appreciate it.  I mean, who the heck takes 48 pills at ones…it’s sad that he had to explain that it is 4 pills a day the day before and the day after chemo,  not all at once.  I guess there is always one in the crowd so maybe I should add those people to my prayers. 

I would also like to ask for all the tests I have to go through this week go smoothly.  Yes, my plan had been to work most of the week, but you obviously felt it was best to get the blood tomorrow, the CT and Chemo Class over with on Wednesday, meet with Dr Lynn Thursday am so she can tell me how wonderful I am doing and then wander over to the Medical Mall to get that bone scan so I can try to get back to close that night.  I sure hope you are able to convince those people where that Mugs thingy is done to get me in there Friday morning so I can start chemo Monday morning (and why in the world did you let them call it mugs when it is basically a test to see how my heart is doing… sometimes simple words are much easier to understand).

            I know this is going to be a rough and hard time, but I am ready.  You have surrounded me with people who will watch out for me, take care of me and will let me know when I need to slow down—and will make me.  You have blessed me with a staff that is willing and able to pick up the slack and let me do what I need to do.  Speaking of blessings, thanks for Mom and Billy; Mom to take care of me and Billy to listen. 

            On Sunday my kids and I talked about how we need to keep our eyes on Jesus and we did the story about Peter walking on the water and how he started to sink when he lost his focus.   I shared with them what happened when Dr. Lynn told me I had cancer; I told them I did cry for a second or two, but then I felt the peace only you could give.  And they got and understood it.  Thank you for them as they ground me.  And we will work on the praying thing—they mean well but need to work on the not talking during the prayer.  Still, I love them.

             Thank you for loving me and keeping me in the palm of your hand for there is no better place to be.

            Love, Liza

           

To God be the Glory

      To say it has been an emotional few days does not even touch the surface.  While I continue to figure this whole cancer thing out and get ready for the next steps, life continues swirling around me.

            Wednesday I went in to get Portia, my new best friend, the one that apparently will make it easier for me to get the chemo and make it easier to draw blood. But before we did that, Mom and I stopped to see Roger Eller as I was not sure how I would be after Portia was installed and I wanted to see him. I will not lie, it was not easy and on top of that, my valium and Percocet had kicked in.  I tried not to tear up, but I did. It was so hard to see him struggling to breathe and trying to talk.  We stayed for maybe 5 minutes but those 5 minutes meant the world to me and I hope to him as well.  Words would never do Roger justice. He was a true gentleman, he always had a hug, a smile and was strong, dependable, dignified, graceful and a rock.  About a month ago I asked him how he was doing and he said fine. I shot back you wouldn’t tell me if you were doing badly either would you?  He laughed, put his hand on my shoulder and said no, I wouldn’t.  That was Roger.   As always, Mom knew what to say, and I let her as there wasn’t much I could think of.  But when I left, I got to give him a kiss and tell him I loved him, and he said me too.  I cried when I left as of all the people in the world, I hated to see him suffer.  Luckily, God agreed and Roger entered the Kingdom of Heaven the following day.  And yes, I smiled when I heard he was gone as I knew not only was he at peace, but I am willing to bet Julia met him and he got an earful!  (and I know that all of you who are reading this who knew both of them are laughing just thinking about it... admit it!!!).

            Back to  Portia.  As is the case in most of the things I do, I can never do anything easy.  I will get there eventually, but not always the way I intended.  Portia was no exception.  While visiting Roger took my mind off of what I was about to go through… and to whomever left me a message who said their dad said a port was a piece of cake… what kind of cake was that man talking about? fruit cake?!  I get in the room, 2 nurses—X-ray Maria—actually they called her Evil Maria, the other Maria and Dr Lynn.  Evil Maria (sounds better) paints my arm smurf blue (remember this for later) and preps the arm.  I get the local and it begins.  I have to admit, it wasn’t that bad due to the drugs.  We were laughing and talking and much discussion revolved around the name Portia.  Dr Lynn figured since a port is a pain in the ass it really it is a male (never thought of it that way) so she called it Ernest but we all agreed Portia was a great name.  She makes me look at the screen… saw my heart, then was astounded to see my ribs around my heart ( drugs… remember) and then I saw the cath going into the BACK OF MY HEART!! (Holy crap—I had no idea that is where it went.  I am pretty sure I voiced that too).  So she gets that all in place and then puts in Portia, sews her up and then flushes her out.  Damn Portia, she would not flush.  At this point, we all agreed that if Portia had to be replaced it would be with Ernest. (and I was going to be able to keep Portia too!! Yay!  I saw a new necklace in my future!). Well, she went back in and Portia was not the problem.  Apparently when Portia was hooked up she caused the cath to clog.  (Again, damn Portia).  Finally, it was done. (good thing too as I was hungry and had to pee really, really bad).

        Portia is getting used to her surroundings and I am hoping she will adjust quickly.  Sleeping is interesting to say the least with 2 bad arms.  The right one is healing nicely, but still hurts, so that is supported by a small blanket and Portia’s arm, well, she wrapped in a ton of love last night it was supported by a very special prayer shawl made by an old friend, Jessica (as I said to you, there are no words).

            Remember the smurf blue?  Well, I forgot they had put that all over my right arm and  was too tired to even think about washing it off.  So this morning, I just about had a heart attack when I saw blue in various places on my arm.  I bruise badly to begin with, but wow, I thought something had gone wrong with the port and I was losing feeling in my arm and you know how your mind works then… is it numb? Is it cold?  Fortunately for me it lasted a mere minute and I remembered.  (Whew…. Kinda like those M & M’s… thought Smurfs might really exist!). 

            Yes, it was a rough few days, but all will fall into place when it is time.  And of course it is not my time, your time or anyone else’s time.  It will be done in God’s time. And for Roger, Matthew 25:21.

Portia

I’ll think about it tomorrow—Scarlett O’Hara

                Well, Portia will be put in tomorrow at 1pm… oh the joy.   This scares me, it really does. You would think hearing the word cancer would have scared me… nope.  Heights, seaweed wraps, needles and the thought of titanium steel in my arm scare me.   Yuck...Yikes…Crap… (that is for Mom) Shit… (that is for Aunt Sue).   I don’t see how they stick this thing in your arm with giving you only 1 valium and 2 antibiotics. (I am sure Dr Lynn said a local, but I was too busy laughing as apparently I will be awake when this is done and she can’t curse.  Whereas if I had chosen a chest port—I would be asleep and she could say whatever she wanted).  However, if this turns out to be the wrong choice, the blame is squarely on Billy (and the 1 cruise increases to 2).  After I told her the arm would do, she walked out and I quickly called Billy and it went like this:  Billy: “hello” Me: “Port. Arm or chest?” Billy: “arm” Me: “Thanks, bye”.  

                Speaking of Dr Bill, he advised me to add a Percocet as well (yay—he might be worth something yet).  Speaking of Percocet, the other night I was really hurting so I figured since I was averaging 3 good hours of sleep with 1, why not take 2.  Oh yeah, definitely one of my brighter ideas. Too bad I forgot about the itching.  I got 2 hours of great sleep and then it started.   Benadryl surely would have helped, but while my brain said get up and get it, the body said you really are comfy, so stay put.  So I did.  After all, it was my brain that said take 2.

                Anyway, back to Portia.  One of the women at church is going through the same thing so on Sunday, I asked her about her port, which happens to be in her arm.  She showed me and then told me to touch it… I said no...she said TOUCH IT in a mom’s tone of voice, so I did.  Very strange, but interesting.   Reminded me of Aliens and all I kept seeing was something growing and popping out of it. And since I was stuck on that, I forgot to ask how it went in.  But she did tell me it was easy and they did go out to eat afterward (um, wonder if she Percocet?)   I am hoping Olive Garden is in my near future.

                In the meantime, Gwinny and I are off to bed—yes, I am allowing her to stay with me tonight as I think she misses me and I feel a wee bit guilty that Mom is dealing with her.  I am NOT taking a Percocet, just  a few Advils and I am not going to think or dwell on something I really have no control over as it has to be done so I can be on my merry little way to getting this all over and done with.  After all, I have at least one cruise to plan.

Better not knowing...

Who would have thought I would be happy for my daughter to have Stage 2 breast cancer and to be happy with only 4 out of 20 lymph nodes have cancer.  But I’ll take it.   Mom—yesterday

When it comes to anything medical, I just figure it is what it is and we do what we have to do to fix it and life goes on.  I don’t dwell on it and I don’t even want to know what they are doing.  For example, when I went in for the breast reduction, I had no clue how it was done and I really did not care, I just wanted it done.  Heck, I had taken 2 weeks off from work and thought I would recover the first week and then I would be on my merry little way the second. Talk about a slap in the face… however, it was blessing not really knowing what was about to happen (I say not really as the Sunday before at breakfast, Bob Gilbert was telling me he saw it on TV and how interesting it was and what they did etc, etc.  I remember yelling at him to stop as I just did not want to know.  Amazes me what fascinates some people).  I did the same thing this time.  Each time I have trusted the doctor to do what they are trained to do. 

                Anyway, it never even occurred to me it would be anything higher than a Stage 2 or that the number of lymph nodes involved would be high. Never even crossed my mind; never lost any sleep over it.  However, both Mom and Billy were worried. (again, a good thing I did not know as I would have felt a little guilty they were worrying).  In fact, when I called Billy from the parking lot he said he was expecting Stage 3 and 5 to 6 nodes.  And Mom, sitting next to me, said she thought the same thing.  (dang, I should have placed money on it).  I admit it was a little unnerving that both of them felt it was going to be worse. 

                Personally I thought the appointment went well.  Of course I was more interested in getting that damn drain out then hearing about the pathology report.  In fact, I would like to take a moment to mourn the drain.  Dear drain, hard to believe it was only just a week.  Sleeping was finally getting easier (unless I moved) and Mom finally was getting the hang of emptying it. (I even started to help).  And I laughed when you decided it was time to spring a leak during the Session meeting.  I have no clue how I am going to manage taking a shower without you hanging there.  I hope you did not take it too personally when Dr. Lynn walked in and the first thing I said to her was get this thing out of me now.  Love me.  (of course it could have been worse; you could have been a catheter).

                Back to the report.  All in all, it was not too bad.  Yes, chemo awaits followed by radiation, but it is curable and believe me, I thank God each and every day for that blessing.  So many out there don’t have that hope to hold on to.  I am also on hold again until the oncologist makes contact.  And while I wait, I get to get some new hardware installed next Wednesday; my port (I think I shall name it… I’ll accept suggestions) and I get to get a jump start on meeting the Radiologist (sure hope they scheduled the right one—apparently there is one there who Dr Lynn calls a troll…. Isn’t she great!)?   So for the next few days I get to continue to take naps when I want to and eat bon bons (not really—it is a Whitman’s Sampler and most of the good stuff is gone).  Seriously, (and yes I know this is going to come back and bite me), but I am looking forward to getting back to work next Tuesday.  And even though I will be in and out with appointments, there will be a sense of normalcy in my otherwise crazy new world.

Gifts....

Embrace it…. Ben, soon after I was diagnosed

Ben is married to my cousin Laurel and had cancer almost 2 years ago.  Usually Laurel answers the phone, but for some reason, it seems Ben always answers when he is the one I really need to talk to, even if I don’t know it at the time.  When he is really tickled about something, he has this laugh that comes straight from the belly (those who know him just thought about that and are now smiling).  He has a strange sense of humor—totally appreciated by yours truly and I have learned if I call during any TV sporting event I am NOT to mention scores or outcomes (he loves that DVR.)

            Back to the phone call--we were talking cancer treatments and since he understood my thought process (I hear the snickers…not very nice), he shared some of the thought processes he went through as well. All of which I needed to hear; especially from a family member who understood (yes Benny—after 28 years I guess we are stuck with you). He then said, “this will sound strange, but embrace it.”  Strangely enough, I totally understood what he was saying.

            Accepting something is not the same as embracing.  I can accept the fact that I have cancer, but do I really want to embrace it? (Not really, it sucks). But I can embrace it; I can embrace the good – and yes, there is good in all of this.  I know I keep repeating the love and support (and I will continue to do so, so just deal with it) but because of it, I know I will be fine.  The well wishes, the phone calls, the emails and those cards; serious ones, funny ones, heartfelt ones and the supportive ones.  Cards from family, friends from all over, (past and present), coworkers, library patrons; the list goes on.  I am touched by all of them.  (I would like to personally and publicly thank Sawyer for making me finally breakdown… that’s my girl!)  I have a bunch of beautiful flowers, cookies, a gift basket and I cannot forget to mention Mr. Monk and his box of candy (however, I would like to take this opportunity to point out that if anyone happened to see me yelling at the old man after church—it was self defense—he was pointing his cane at me and he apparently does not know his right from his left).  All of this from people, who care, love me and just want me well.  I have to embrace this without any pity, without feeling guilty. 

            However, the true meaning of embracing happened this afternoon.  And yes, I cried and I am crying as I write this.  The package came with this note: Something to keep you entertained.  Get well soon! Love, Alice.    In the package, an iPad.   This from someone who, up until a few years ago, never even knew I existed.  Someone who wanted to do something for me and all I can do is embrace the love, which is really the true gift.   It is humbling, to say the least.  Perhaps this is the lesson I am to learn and take away from all of this.  As Debi sent earlier this week--- Jeremiah 29:11. Don’t know it?  Look it up on your iPad (heehee).  And Alice, while the iPad is awesome and I have already downloaded Angry Birds (which will indeed keep me entertained for hours and hours), I’m also grateful for that very first gift—Billy.  Thank you!

A product of my environment

Mirror, mirror on the wall, I am my mother after all….. gift from the Queen a few years back…

When I first told Billy I was walking away from the Hotel Industry and moving home, he gave us 2 weeks.  Well, 11 years later I am still here. (For quite a while the only time Mom and I argued was when he came home… hmmmm, chew on that). Granted, this is not exactly how I had planned my life, but I’ll take it. 

                I was 6 weeks old when my parents “got” me.  To hear Aunt Sue repeat the story—something she has done on almost every birthday—my dad (in his deep, deep voice) was running up the stairs to Grandma’s yelling “it’s a girl, it’s a girl!”  They yelled back “the dog or the baby?” (Jenny, the basset hound did not last long—she bit the milkman when he came to see me). He yelled “Both!” And so on Mom’s 26^th birthday, the mother-daughter relationship began.  (I like to say I was her best birthday present but then Muffin, the original pug, came along and while she talked back, she was much easier to discipline).   I have always known I was adopted, never really mattered to me.  I loved to go back at kids who would say something… I told them their parents were stuck with them, I was chosen. (and yes, I more than likely ended it by sticking my tongue out).  My baby book is for adopted kids too… has this neat section that says when I first saw you… Dad started his out “my darling Liza”; Mom used “Dear Elizabeth”.  Great… the proper first name within hours; I was doomed.

                 I had a typical childhood until age 10.  Typical in that we played with our friends, we had meals together, we went to the beach, we went to church, participated in sports, family trips, you get the idea.  Then Dad got sick and things changed.  The thing is, while things changed, Mom did her best to make it stay the same for us and she did a wonderful job of it.  We had a high school babysitter, Sue, who was there when we got home from school, I know we had dinner made and either Sue or Mom ate with us.  We had a church family who was always there and our friends families, and those parents watched over us as we.  The point is this—yes, Dad died young and yes it is what sad not to grow up with a father, but we had Mom, who shaped and molded us into what we have become today. 

                Of course it was not easy; especially with me. She said black, I said white. She said yes, I said no.  She reached for the wooden spoon—I ran.  (to this day I give her one for memories sake in her stocking most years).  The funny thing was, later she told me she never really worried about me as I was basically a chicken (wish I had known that earlier).  People would always tell her “your daughter is so sweet”—Mom would quickly say “live with her”.   However, the older we both got, the more the mother/daughter relationship grew. 

                The Queen nickname started when I was in college.  She sent me a birthday card that said “Happy Birthday to my daughter the Princess, from your mother the Queen.”  Not to be outdone and since her birthday was 2 months later, I sent “Happy Birthday to Mom, Queen for the day from your daughter, Princess for life.” And so it began.  It has been at least 25 years and I am sure both of us has wasted much time, effort and not to mention money to keep it up.   However, it has been the time since I moved back home in which I have learned as well as appreciated Mom that much more.

                When I first moved back, I missed my “stuff”.  I missed my own place; I missed the routines I had created for myself living in my world.  When I came back, Mom was still working and she was up at 5am, an ungodly hour to someone who did not go to bed until after 1am or so… after all, I was on call 24/7 and usually worked late and usually went out after that.  It took me a while to adjust.  (okay—it took the addition of the downstairs bedroom for me to adjust).  I still led my own life, but now I also had to check in—not that she asked me to, but it was common courtesy.  (besides, she has this way of making me feel guilty—don’t believe me—ask Billy). I finally accepted it for what it was and to enjoy it. After all, I never ran out of toilet paper, I always had laundry detergent and there was always food in the fridge.  For a mere rental fee.  And, if I had to fix the computer, I was set for a few months.  

                I also started paying more attention.  Mom was and is very active in the church as well as a respected Elder.  Tim used to ask me where my sweet mama was – (freaked me out as sweet was not the word I would have chosen).   I also began to see the kind and considerate person she was.  When someone was sick, she brought food, called and made a point of checking on them.  When Charles got sick, she became his caregiver and was there his entire illness.  And I got to see that.

                So, when everything started to happen with me and Billy made that famous comment and said I was out of turn it should have been Mom, I had totally disagreed with him.  Mom’s role, talent I would say, is caregiver.  Granted, I am sure she thought she was done with me and this is not what she wanted for me, but she did it with Grandma Loomis, Dad and Charles and did it well.  I could not have nor could I do what she is going to have to do the next 6 or so months.  Yes, she has said she wishes she was the one (I told her it would not work as she was too old—yup—definitely got the eye rolling from her) but I then tell her she wasn’t the one so deal with it. (can you imagine if I said—yeah, sure wish it was you too… whoa… hello wooden spoon!).  

                Yes, I am, as the title says, a product of my environment.  I was placed into this family, with its ups, downs, lefts and rights for a reason (as was Billy).  Years ago Billy gave me a birthday card that said “Happy Birthday Mom, I mean Sis” and while we got a good laugh out of it, today I don’t mind it at all. Not one bit. 

  

Sunday

What a day.  So hard to describe, yet it left me with such a comforting and peaceful feeling.  All revolves around this morning at church. I knew I wanted to be there and of course the reasons were mostly selfish.  I wanted to reclaim some normalcy and I figured by going to church I would.  I knew a ton of questions awaited me, but I also knew I would be surrounded by well wishes, love and the support I am beginning to depend on more and more ( insert The Lone Ranger is Dead here… yes, I was listening).

                 Today was Communion Sunday which means my Sunday School Class, 3^rd-5^th graders; sit together as a class for worship. Some might call it torture, but I have accepted the fact they are kids and don’t worry as much as I used to about them misbehaving (they don’t for the most part) and I enjoy my time with them.  (However, I am not stupid; I have a bunch of good Christian word searches, mazes, etc to keep them occupied).  Today was also the Sunday in which the new Elders were ordained and/or installed and I wanted to be there for that as well. 

                As expected, I had quite a few people come to me before the service—all good and all well meaning, even if a few had problems with knowing their right from their left.  Heck, I grew up with Billy and he always had (and I am sure still has) those issues. (Have no fear, when you go into surgery they ask you a million times—you are here for what and when the last time was you had something to drink or eat. So the odds of taking out a kidney instead of a gall bladder are relatively slim).  The girls ended up sitting with me as the boys were ushering (another smart move on my part—yay me!)  I choked up a few times, but nothing major.  Then we had the laying of the hands.  That is when all ordained Elders, Deacons, etc are invited to come to the front while a prayer is said for the new Elders.  I went up and I knew without a doubt I was exactly where God wanted me to be. I had the most peaceful feeling standing up there – it was rather awesome. And to add to it, after the service, Josie (one of my 5^th graders) gave me a card from the class—she made it and had them sign it (okay—she had the girls sign it... I can’t seem to find the boys names anywhere!).  I have it right where I can see it.

My pray and hope is I can show my class (and possibly others)  that although things happen in life in which we have no control, all we have to do is hand it over to God and he will take care of the rest.  Much easier said than done, but I’m working on it.  One day at a time…

               

Be careful what you ask for....

Well, that sucked.  And to clarify, the needle did not go through the nipple… just on the side.  Always look at the positive.  So let’s travel to the positive side for a moment, shall we? 

·         The Percocet is lovely.  Kicks in rather quickly so the pain really does not exist.  However, the itching is rather annoying, but thinking positively, it only lasts for a few hours, just in time to do it all over again. 

·         I get to get the Raquel Welch wig that I have been eyeing. 

·         Let’s go back to the Percocet.  I have to eat something before I take it so I am eating either Fruit Loops or Entenmanns Crumb Cake.

·         When Mom tries to empty my drain—I yell “Bill, she is ripping it out—check on it.” (I know darn well it is fine, but hey, gotta keep her on her toes. And for those of you who are shaking your head, it comes out on Thursday, so let me just enjoy it for a few days).

·         Aunt Sue says I can say shit on here instead of crap.  (Don’t worry Mom, this is the only time I will say it. I know where the toilet paper comes from).

·         I am currently the Golden Child.  This status will last until I am finished with treatment and my hair starts to grow back.  Then it will revert back to the original Golden Child.  (I just ticked off the toilet paper fairy… probably not a good idea).

·         I get a cruise.  I even had Billy up to a 30 day cruise yesterday as I was upgraded from a pin cushion to a pin sofa.  30 days is too long, so I’ll just have to settle for something shorter.  Darn.

·         I don’t have to get up and feed the dogs.  (That will not last long, so I will enjoy the next 2 days as well as hearing Mom “talk” or “yell” at the deaf ones.  Yes, life in the dog geriatric unit is never dull).

Seriously, it was not as bad as it could have been. The care I received the moment I walked in to the moment I was wheeled out was amazing.  I was peaceful and at ease the entire time.  (Okay, I was a little pissed when they were trying to wake me, as I was having such a good sleep).   Billy timed it great and walked in the door just as Mom was being paged.  Jan Ladd (thank you) stopped by and was with Mom too so even if Billy had not been on time, she would have had someone with her.  Mom said she knew as soon as she saw Dr. Lynn’s face it was not good.  (Good is all relative -- at least the cure rate is good). 

                Dr. Lynn came in and I knew as soon as I saw her… all I said was “it’s in the nodes huh” and she said yup. She told me Billy was here (Mom told her to tell me that) and then I asked how Mom was.  She said she was holding it together so I felt better.  She asked me if I wanted to stay overnight, but since Billy was here, she would let me go home.  (I remembered the meatloaf and peas so I elected to go home.  I knew there was a Chicken Pot Pie at home).  ( I would also like to point out I had not eaten or had anything to drink since 10:30pm—something I was asked a million and one times-- and they had food advertisements all over… mean people).  I was wheeled to my room where I was reunited with my family as well as some ginger ale and very fresh goldfish.  That is when Pastor Bill arrived—without a cupcake I might add.  (All I could think of was crap, he is going to have more hair than me—and yes, I voiced both--where is my cupcake and you will have more hair.  I think he laughed… could have been a grimace or the more logical thought is he is worried about me being on drugs during Tuesday’s Session meeting). 

                 I elected to drive home with Billy. A—his car is more comfortable than Mom’s.  B—he would give me the low down.   I was feeling much better as we were driving but I needed something more than goldfish… I needed a biscuit (or 2).  So into Bojangles we turned. As we drive away, Billy starts laughing… apparently when he lets his patients go home, he gives this lecture and always adds, don’t stop at Bojangles or Burger King.  Yeah, he listens well to himself.  But I was happy.  And since I was happy and my head was clearer, he began to fill me in.  More than likely 6 chemo treatments followed by radiation.  Of course it is all my fault, as I asked God to make the decision easy for me as far as chemo went; before I went in, I was debating if I wanted to make sure it was all gone by going through chemo and not just radiation.  Glad to have that decision behind me. 

                All in all, it was not that bad of a day and while I have a few months of hell in front of me, I cannot say it enough, I am surrounded by awesome, loving and caring people in all walks of my life and God will get me through it all. 

In control

Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.     John 14:27

It hit the moment I walked out of work at noon.  It lasted less than a minute, but it still hit. Crap, I have cancer and crap; I have surgery in the morning.  Crap. (Okay, the last crap was not really a crap, but I promised Mom I would watch my language).  So on here it is crap.  In the car… you figure it out. And if you still have trouble, ask a kid, they will fill you in. (However, if you ask one of my Sunday School kids and they tell you, let me know).

Back to the oh crap moment.  As I said, it lasted less than a minute and I was back in control.  Had a few things to do and ended up at church to look a few things up.  In control.  So while I was looking, Pastor Bill told me to sit and we talked. Okay, I think I did most of the talking and I did it Jersey style.  Fast, fast, fast.  If you are from Jersey—you get it. If you are from anywhere else and have heard me and mom, you understand as well.  Better keep up or we will leave you in the dust.  And yes, we hear and understand every word.  Yes, rather scary, and yes, a sign of nervousness with me.   I finally had to go and he had a prayer.  Nice one, comforting one and I was off to pre op.  In control. 

 One thing I have never grown out of is having the car radio loud and just singing along.  So I did. In control.  I hit the Medical Mall and parked.  Uh oh… another oh crap moment.  This one lasted mere seconds.  Got my trusty 2012 Day Planner (I might add it is a Breast Cancer one—only by chance), my lucky pen, (not really but it sounds good) and my phone (Angry Birds of course!!) and went in.  I have to admit, I was not thrilled to be around so many sick people.  All I could think of was the kids who were there all had runny noses and they did not know how to sneeze into their shirts. Great, I go in to get a lumpectomy and end up with the flu. (That nasal spray Dr. Jones talked me into better work). I was immediately called back, but only for the paperwork. So I had to wait again.  In control.  I would like to apologize to the old lady next to me for scaring the crap out of her when I got so excited to finally conquer the one level that was stumping me on Angry Birds.  She looked at me and I said “oops, it was Angry Birds.”  She didn’t understand and from the looks of it, it didn’t matter anyway.  I hope she did not hear me snort when I heard the nurse ask her if she was ready for her EKG. 

FINALLY I was called in.  The nurse, Amanda, was awesome and sweet.  Never asked my weight or age, just filled me in on what to do tonight.  Then she walked me to the lab (someone must have told her I don’t do needles well and she thought I might run). I survived the needle and I was off on my merry little way.  In control.  So I decided to get a cupcake.  They did not have what I wanted, but it was okay, I didn’t need it anyway. (And to the one who told me I should have lowered my standards… are you kidding me?!  We are talking cupcakes here, not a man for goodness sake!). After all, I was in control.

Fast forward and it is almost 9:00pm and it is almost bedtime as we need to leave by 545am.  Have I done what I needed to do? No.  Am I worried about not getting things done?  Nope.   Right now I am at peace and in control.  Might not last very long, and I might just totally lose it, but it is still good.  Because even when I think I am in control, I really am not; God is and there is no better place to be. 

Planning....

Sounds like life to me it ain’t no fantasy
It’s just a common case of everyday reality
Man I know it’s tough but you gotta suck it up--  Darryl Worley

I am a planner; I am not impulsive, spontaneous, and do not do well with surprises.  I plan.   Needless to say, the last few weeks have not been easy as the not knowing was starting to really annoy me. On Monday, things really took shape and reality set in with the call from Dr. Lynn confirming the positive biopsy. Mom breathed a huge sigh of relief as it was less aggressive—me never even thought about it; just wanted to start doing something. 

            So today the starting to do something began.  Mom (trusty new PINK notebook in hand) and I met with Dr Lynn to decide the first plan of action.  (I would like to add that I wore my black leather jacket, fuchsia sweater and black jeans.  Not my fault Mom wore her black leather jacket, pink sweater and black jeans.  Yes, I am a product of my environment).  Moving forward, Dr Lynn explained everything—lots of big words were used; I just nodded and acted as if I totally understood her.  The trusty PINK notebook was out and being used.  (Good sign as I was drifting away due to the use of the big, unrecognizable words).  We finally got down to the what do you want to do and I had no problem telling her to go with the lumpectomy.  She explained what would happen if anything showed up in the lymph nodes and what will more than likely happen if they were clear.  She explained the procedure concerning the lymph nodes and after hearing needle and nipple in the same sentence, I tuned out yet again, knowing Mom had my back.  I came back into the conversation when I heard one cup size smaller.  Well crap, I finally get to where I wanted to be and WHAM… smaller and to top it off, only on one side.  I tuned out again until the discussion turned to scheduling and recovery and going back to work.  The scheduling was easy—Friday morning I need to be at New Hanover at 7:00am.  At 8:00am I will be doing that nuclear lymph node thingy and at 9:30am Dr Lynn will go in for that sucker.  And I will be sound asleep and not know a darn thing.  Bliss.  Hopefully God will answer all those prayers with clear lymph nodes and I will be able to go home, but if he still has a point to prove, I get to stay overnight and enjoy the hospitality of NHRH.  (I just hope that if I have to stay I don’t get the same meal Mr. Monk got—meatloaf, peas and mashed potatoes.  Yuck.  Someone will be making a food run.  Did I mention there was a Dunkin Donuts right there and of course Krispy Kreme is not far either).
            This all brings me back to the planning.  I know that everything hinges on those pesky lymph nodes.  I have a post op next Thursday and then I am sent to the oncologist to plan my treatment.  If I am a good girl, I will be cleared to go back to work on the 14^th.  If I am going stir crazy and have driven Mom nuts, she might let me go back a day earlier.   I have been told I can continue to work during treatment as well, but there will be days in which I will not feel like going to work ( and this is a sick thing?!).  I would like to point out I love my job and the people I work with as well as most of the people who come to the library (yeah, had to say most as there are a few who really can drive a person crazy…. Mr. Monk) and it also brings me a sense of normalcy to go to work. 
            As I wait to plan the next step, it has gotten easier as the plan is starting to take shape.  However, I do realize I can plan all I want to, but it is not my plan, it is God’s plan.  Luckily I know, trust and have the faith it will be a good plan. 
           

Siblings

To the outside world we all grow old. But not to brothers and sisters. We know each other as we always were. We know each other's hearts. We share private family jokes. We remember family feuds and secrets, family griefs and joys. We live outside the touch of time. ~Clara Ortega

We do not share any genes whatsoever, but we share/have shared a mom, a dad, various animals, a car ( RIP Ford Fiesta), aunts, uncles, cousins (Laurel is mine... sorry), food, drinks, colds, chicken pox, friends, a childhood, much laughter, a lot of tears and many, many memories. We have called each other many names over the years (some repeatable, others not) but no matter what my baby brother (by 17 months) will always be Billy, no matter how old he gets. And he is the one I call first, before anyone else.
The fact that Billy is a surgeon and saves lives still makes me scratch my head. The boy has little common sense at times and has always been that way-- so smart yet so... (you fill in the blank as I am sure to get a head slap when mom reads this). In the past I have been known to tell him he was worthless to me as a general surgeon and we would have been better off had he been a plastic surgeon. Well, he is now worth something and only time will tell how much!
As I said, he is the one I turn to, the one I run things by and the one I moan and groan to (I would like to point out he does the same). So naturally I called him when I came back from the first doctors visit when she confirmed there was something there. I wanted to get his thoughts on telling Mom and he said, it will be nothing, just tell her. So I did. I went to the next appointment---the follow up mammogram and ultra sound,called him... he said it would be fine. Called him when I was told I needed a biopsy, he told me it was standard. So when I called him to tell him what the surgeon said, he was actually a bit speechless as he never thought it would be anything. He kept telling me to wait until the biopsy results came in-- all in that doctor tone of voice. He was pretty much in shock (denial). This continued Friday when I sent him a text saying it was Day 2 knowing I had cancer and he gave me some doctor bs... I told him he was in denial-- he admitted he was and then said he always thought Mom would have a medical problem and that I was out of turn. That's when I asked if I could milk a cruise out of this (I am already thinking of where to next).
Today I sent a text-- just call me cancer girl; he knew immediately the biopsy results were in. So the questions began, from him to me and from me to him. It will be like this during this entire ordeal. Something will happen, I will call him and while he might not answer right away, he will as soon as he can. He will call me at various times to check on me, to check on mom and will be here when I want him to be. (I have in fact told him he will be here this weekend and I did not really care what his plans were-- I am powerful for the moment!). It's just like that with us; sappy as it sounds, he is really one of my best friends and one of the most important ones to boot. And I know he feels the same. I hate he has to go through this with me, but he will and will be right beside me, not always in person, but a phone call and a short drive away. I am so very, very blessed.