The Golden Ring

In your heart, you plan your life.  But the Lord decides where your steps will take you.

Proverbs 16:9

Finally—the golden ring is almost mine.  Growing up, there was a carousel at the Asbury Park boardwalk where there was a golden ring.  The goal was to grab the ring as you were going round and round.  I never did get that golden ring—a) I was too short and b) I was too afraid to fall flat on my face.  However, that golden ring has always signified (to me at least) the prize or now, the end. 

             If you remember, when I was first diagnosed, Billy was in disbelief.  He was sure it was going to be nothing. As we all know, he was wrong (possibly the only time I really wish he had been right.  It just seemed wrong to run around yelling you were wrong, you were wrong in a joyous voice).    He was in such disbelief that I – teasing—said “hmmm, bet I could milk you for anything.”  He said “yup, anything.” I said “I want a cruise.” He said “Done.” From that point forward, I had something to look forward to; something to say it was over.  

             I have been planning this trip since the moment Billy said done.  I looked at every cruise imaginable. I looked at New England, I looked at Mediterranean, I looked at Alaska (I did put my foot down when Billy said Costa would be a great deal) and I finally settled on the Panama Canal and Billy said that if we were doing the Canal, we were going coast to coast.  For a fleeting moment I was worried about the length of the cruise, but when I passed it by Estell, I knew I was good. (I do feel a wee bit guilty, but the hell with it, I deserve this sucker!).  I originally had it ready for September, but fate stepped in and I was told it was too rainy.  Good thing too as Pia had her issue and there was no way on this earth I could have made it on a cruise.  4 months later and I am still exhausted when I leave work!

             As long as Mother Nature cooperates (please, please cooperate) we will be sailing away from Ft. Lauderdale tomorrow at 5:00pm.  Exactly one year to the day I got Damn Portia.  I will also celebrate the one year marks of my first meeting with Becca and Dr K, and the meeting with Dr N who very matter of fact pointed out it was Stage 3 cancer (something I did not know until them – Mom either) and in memory of my first chemo, I will have one (or two) shots of tequila. 

            I cannot believe a year has passed.  Yet, it seems so long ago and honestly, a life time ago at times.  I remember feeling crappy with the chemo, but I don’t remember how badly.  I remember ending up on the 10^th floor, but I don’t remember it being that bad.  And I don’t think it is chemo brain.  I think I am just ready to go on.  I get back to reality February 3 late.  And when I do everything will have come full circle.  And that golden ring will FINALLY be mine!

           

My nourishment

Cancer is a journey, but you walk the road alone. There are many places to stop along the way and get nourishment - you just have to be willing to take it. ~Emily Hollenberg

 One of the easiest, yet at times one of the hardest things to do, is to say thank you.  To me, a mere thank you does not even begin to touch the surface for everything this past year.  I have held off as I tried to figure out how to go about it.  I think have said thank you a million times, but I also felt I needed to do more with a few people.  Alas, a few months ago I thought I was ready and as I was trying to get the words out, I got all choked up and ended up walking out.  I know I got the point across, but the fact I was unable to control myself bothered me.  So, I am bagging the in person and here we go… it is time…

·         Mom— for everything.  Clean sheets rule and you are the Queen. Bill (gasp) was wrong—I was not out of turn—God knew there was no way on earth I could have been half the caregiver you were.  All hail the Queen!

·         Bill – for listening.  And for not telling Mom about that one night I had a fever even though she figured it out when I ended up on the 10^th floor.  And for learning not to complain about how rough your weekend on call was… especially the night before I had chemo.  (admit it—my “wanna switch” comment had you scared).  And I have a confession—when I was bald and you first came down, I took great pleasure in showing you my bald head because it made you uncomfortable. That was a highlight for me.

·         Betsy—for staying calm, although speechless, when I said it was cancer.  And then knowing only food and Starbucks would do.  And for everything else you did from bringing me socks, Snickers and tea to the 10^th floor and cards and just being the best friend anyone could ask for.

·         Mike—for not taking Betsy away from me when I needed her the most.  Yes, I know, you needed her too, but I needed her more.  Besides, if you left her all alone up there, you would have never heard the end of it.

·         Heather- for making me laugh… and cry.  You wear pink for me and I love you!

·         Luke—for being you—praying and giving me that Bible verse when I needed it the most. From the mouth of babes… you could teach some adults a few things or two.  And thank you for the best Valentine’s Day I ever, ever had.

·         Lori—for keeping me grounded and reminding me God is in charge.  And for making me laugh by picking on Heather.  And thank you for not mooning me at work. 

·         Pastor Bill—for being there.  And I forgive you for not bringing me a cupcake.  However, I have not forgiven you for eating the M&Ms.  Something to remember.  

·         Billie—for all my little gifts in my box, not to mention all the prayers.  Life is all about Plan B.  

 

·         Kim G—taking care of me as only you could.  And making my nails pretty since the hair was gone.  But it is back and who knows what you have planned.  I am scared. Kinda. 

·         Estell—for letting me work odd hours and for letting me figure it out on my own I didn’t need to be there.  Yup, stubborn is a Gemini thing!

·         Brenda—for picking out Lizzie.  Great choice.  I miss her at times.

·         Gaye, Lisa and Brandy—I never had to worry about work—I knew it was covered. I also know you had to deal with much more and for which I am sorry.  And I really am sorry I missed the conversation with Kevin and my hair.  And to think he never used to speak to us!

·         Rachel—you got a tattoo for a few of us—I am honored to be part of that group.  Better you than me—I have had enough needles to last me a million life times.

·         Aunt Sue- for crying when I lost my hair.  And for the hospital gifts.  And for all the prayers.  I can almost forgive the picture taking when I was bald.  I said, almost.

·         Dolores—for loving me and even laughing when you cried.  And I know you cried.  You always cry.  But I love you and thanks for the “sisters”.

·         Debi—for running for me.  And for my clinging cross—still right by my bed.  I know it brought back memories.  I hated that for you.

·         The Sisters: Christine, Heather, Jennifer and Jessica—you are all so very, very different, yet so alike.  And you all have hearts of gold.  Lucky me!

·         Wes—for making my Sunday mornings normal in my otherwise upside down world.  And for the record, I ended up with 37 hours of sick leave left. So there.

·         Deb S-for being the Prayer Queen.  Enough said.

·         Laurel—for being the bestest cousin anyone could ask for.  And thanks for visiting and understanding.  And sending me things.  You rock!

·         Erin—for going to the shearing with me.  You were a great stand in for your mom.  And for keeping up with me too.

·         Sawyer Beth—for being the first one to really make me cry – it was the first card you all signed—figures it was you.  And for all those texts to see how I was. Always made me smile.  Yiza loves you!

·         Facebook friends—too many to mention.  Your posts made me smile and laugh—and cry at times.  The support was overwhelming.  Thank you.

·         Those who walked this road before me—thank you for sharing and being there.  I just wish there wasn’t so many of you.

There are so many others—Jessica for the first prayer shawl—blew me away; JoAnn for that awesome washcloth—yes Jo, I still use it and you made it and I love it!; Renee for the soup—the only thing I wanted at times;  Mary B for the masks ;Bob for that ham thing that hit the spot when nothing else did;  Mary L for the rides to chemo and the Glow Place; Kathy for her prayer shawl, Margaret and Ruth with prayer shawls from their churches; Judy and Howard for my angel;  Bonnie for the Cancer Sucks lollipop arrangement—I can’t bear to part with that; Sue and her cheesecakes and all the cards, flowers, calls, gifts  made me feel so good and special. So did the pink hair in October (Luke—I wish I could have seen yours in person, but know that I loved it!).   And all the prayers—I know there were bunches as I felt them every day.    I know I have forgotten things and people—and since I have 5 years to do so--I will blame thechemo brain. Please know I am so very thankful and so very humbled by it all.  I have been nourished beyond my wildest dreams.  Thank you all for the nourishment. 

 

 

 

Rearview Mirror.....

I don’t need a biopsy to know it is cancer--Dr Lynn, December 29, 2011    

         It was a year ago today when life changed.  Exactly a year has passed since I sat in that room (a room in which I have become very familiar with) and listened to Dr. Lynn say the cancer word (granted I knew what she was going to say-- but still, not something you enjoy hearing). And it was a year ago today Betsy and I sat in Cracker Barrel trying to make sense of it all.  Looking back, I would like to say just my life, but I can’t-- it touched others in ways I am sure I will never know just as it touched my family and friends in ways in which I wish it had not.  I know I will never look at a mammogram the same.   I will always wonder if they missed something—and I am willing to bet I will always have that feeling.  However, I can honestly say  I have been blessed beyond measure and cancer has given me many gifts. While I would rather have skipped this particular gift,  the positives have far outweighed the negatives and it really is true. There are no words which will ever be enough to thank those around me for everything.  It has been a humbling experience.  As my life returns to normal-- or rather my new normal-- I hope I will always remember the lessons I have learned and to pay it forward.  Now, let’s have some fun and blame the chemo brain if some of these have been said before. 

Things I have learned this year:

1.        The light at Shipyard and Independence is evil.

2.       According to the Health Department, you have to flush twice up until 48 hours after chemo.

3.       Respect the light (Krispy Kreme for those who have no clue…).

4.       Hot flashes are hell.

5.       I should have signed up for the Aflac Cancer policy… I would have been rich!

6.       I am stronger than I ever thought.

7.       Chemo is all about the bags—my favorite was the valium.

8.       The first time you pee after chemo it is red… apparently I had been warned.  

9.       Humor is essential—yet many do not have that gene—found that out many times.

10.   Banking sick leave is a good thing.

11.   Naps are awesome.

12.   Fatigue can get worse.

13.   The water fall in the waiting room at Dr K’s always make me have to pee. 

14.   Pediatric gowns make great hats.

15.   God answers prayers.

16.   Night nurses love the Food Network.

17.   A good wig is worth the money.

18.   Root Beer is not part of the low bacteria diet.

19.   Calf cramps are now a way of life.

20.   Ditto for vertigo.

21.   Don’t ever say “now what”.

22.   Cards mean the world. So do flowers.

23.   You can never have enough thermometers.

24.   Nurses keep a stash of snacks—nothing like a cherry ice at 3:00am.

25.   I can live without bangs.

26.   Hell, I can live without hair.

27.   The quality of toilet paper is essential.

28.   Ditto for tissues.

29.   Clean sheets are heaven.

30.   Friends are a gift from God.

     31.   Life goes on.

32.   Some people gain weight during chemo.

33.   I am loved.

34.   Hospitals have strangely comfortable pillows…. Yet they are waterproof.

35.   Kids get it.

36.   The elevator at Dr Lynn’s is the slowest I have ever seen… and all for one floor.  Never have been able to find the stairs.

37.   Hot showers affect the electric bill more than I thought.

38.   Nothing, and I mean nothing, can compete with a great nurse.

39.   Family is more than blood.

40.   I learned to embrace whatever was thrown at me.

41.   Hair grows slow when you want it to grow and fast when you don’t

42.   Facebook was a godsend.

43.   The amount of money I spent on my hair in the past was rather large… it will be nice to spend it again. 

44.   Faith is essential

45.   The money I saved in hair products was spent on cupcakes.

46.   I can only live without my day planner for so long,

47.   Chemo brain is real.

48.   There is actually a Cancer Dating Service… who knew?! 

49.   My mom is great.

50.   I did it! I am a cancer survivor!

 

 

Princess Gwinny

        Let me introduce myself.  My name is Gwinny and I am the youngest pug of what had been known as the Pug Posse at the Barrett household.  I say was as Zoe, bless her little heart, and went to Rainbow Bridge in March at the ripe old age of 16 and then Polly that annoyingly cute pug followed in June at the age of 12 with what I heard was cancer.  I kinda miss her as Ollie is just a lazy old man who has no sense of humor.  At least Polly went back at me.  Ollie, he is a whole other story.

        I am a princess and not one of those adopted, rescue pugs.  I am exactly what a pug should look like—cobby, flat faced and my tail is beautiful as it curls 2 times.  And I have 2 eyes… something old man Ollie can’t say. And I do have my hearing, which benefits the old man as unlike him, I can hear when the word treat is uttered and when I run, he follows.  My Daddy is Dr. Bill but since he works long hours to support my grand lifestyle, my Grandma Andie has custody.  Aunt Liza used to love me and let me sleep with her, but then SHE got cancer and I was not allowed as APPARENTLY I am a germ carrying pug.  I was then deported downstairs to Granny’s and I like it just fine.  Sometimes I sneak upstairs and break into Aunt Liza’s room and if the rug is in the right place, I can jump right onto the bed.  However, I did that a few months back and boy was she mad.  I was aiming for the bottom of the bed, but landed on Portia—whoever that is. Needless to say, she now makes sure her door is shut tight. 

            Back to me, as it is ALWAYS about me.  I have those humans wrapped around my pretty little paws.  I know just how to work them and make them think I am the cutest thing going.  Heck, I even had Granny thinking Polly was attacking me for years.  But Aunt Liza blew that as she was sure it was me.  She caught me one night going after Polly.  Still, I achieved my goal of not having to sleep with her.  Polly had issues and had to have a bed buddy and since I am a princess, I am way above sleeping with another dog.  Luckily old man Ollie is so laid back—he had no problem dealing with that Polly and her insecurities so he bore the brunt of it, usually without complaining.  But once in a while he would just sleep somewhere else—that always makes me snort to think about it. 

            Have I told you I LOVE food?!  Well, I do.  Naturally of course since pugs are eaters.  I try to watch my figure, but who can resist a treat when it is offered freely?  Besides, if I look really, really sad and pathetic, I can get more.  As you can see, I am smart too.  Just a little wiggle of my perfect tail and I get what I want.  Humans really are easy.

            Speaking of humans, I really upset Granny last week.  She took me to the vet for this lump I was unable to see.  And believe it or not, it turned out to be cancer of all things.  I immediately thought of Polly and the little box she now occupies and shivered—I am too young to be in that box—pretty as it is.  Then I remembered Aunt Liza did the cancer thing this year too and she is not in a box, so I would just be like her.  Then I thought whoa….she lost her hair—YIKES!  No way did I want to look like one of those nasty Chinese Crested things that are called dogs.  But luckily I heard Granny telling someone—not sure who as she talks on the phone every morning to her sister and a lot of times with some lady names Anne—who makes her laugh and laugh.  Anyway—she told whoever that all I needed was surgery and I would be fine. Whew… pug snorts all around.

            Today I went in for surgery and I am doing well, thank you for asking.  I did so well they even cleaned my teeth for me!!!  I think we have to wait to see what the tests say, but the vet says I am good to go.  I even get to come home tonight as Daddy is coming home to watch over me.  I have my paws crossed as when he came home for Aunt Liza’s surgery, he was useless.  I helped her more than he did.  But I am sure Granny will have my back—she always does and being the princess I am, I am sure she will be making me all comfy, loving me and making me one of my favorite meals—chicken and rice.  Yay me!  Off to rest while I wait for my ride home so I can be the Puggy Princess and I am going to milk this as long as I can. 

A year ago....

Having had cancer, one important thing to know is you're still the same person at the end. You're stripped down to near zero. But most people come out the other end feeling more like themselves than ever before.
                                                                       Kylie Minogue

          December 5, 2011.  December 7, 2011.  December 14, 2011.  December 29, 2011.  And so it begins.  And aside from December 7—all dates which until last year, were, just that, dates on the December calendar. In a few hours, it will be one year to the day in which I found that damn lump.  I remember when I found it I started to cry.  I knew deep down exactly what it was and I was a wee bit pissed.  So, I did nothing and figured I would check it again the next night as just maybe it would not be there.  No such luck as it was still there.  Damn lump.   The phone call to Dr Jones got the wheel started and that wheel has gone round and round since. 

           As I have pointed out, I knew.  Yet, I also knew I was going to be okay.  And while there were a few who thought it was the end, it never crossed my mind.  Seriously, it never did.   On top of it all, I really had no idea what I was in for.  All I could think of was how I hate to throw up.  I remember how nauseated Dad had been and that was my biggest fear about cancer (I am happy to say I never did either! I know TMI).   I wondered briefly how I was going to look bald and I thought how nice it would be not to have to go on a diet (Of course I would be in the percentage who gained weight). 

        To say it has been a year is an understatement.  I experienced a lot of firsts since I found that sucker and while it was a bump in the road (or really a pain in the ass); it was, as I have said, doable.  I did not plan to be one of the 1 in 8, but I am.  I certainly did not want to have short hair—or no hair for that matter, but I have these curls now and it really is easy to do in the mornings.  Funny how I used to think the worst thing in the world was to have my bangs cut too short.  Now I wonder if I will ever have them again! 

        I have changed.  There is no way a person can go through this and not change in some way.  I see things differently and yes, it is hard to explain.  I have always been sensitive to others and very sentimental.  Now it is on an entirely different level.   I know what made me smile and made my day.  It was the little things.  It was the cards from people who I thought barely knew me, it was the prayer shawls from people I knew and complete strangers.  It was the gifts and just the outpouring of love.  I hope I can pay it forward and do unto others as they have done to and for me. 

        I am still anal and my day planner is again the center of my world.  I am trying to do too much and while my plate is overflowing, I am blessed to have a plate I can fill.  I get still get tired at the end of the day and I have been told it will end at some point—in a few months.  Apparently vertigo is a side effect of chemo and I am dealing with that.  And yes, I find that amusing.  And the chemo brain is still going full force.  Yet, I have found myself remembering and retaining more.  Comprehension is another story.  I wonder if it will ever come back.  It kills me not to understand things which I normally would. Luckily I am surrounded by understanding, patient people. I am back to working fulltime and I am glad to be back and at the desk.  It is so good to be back. 

        Honestly, I am a little nervous about all the dates coming up as I know me and I know I will just think and more than likely over think it all.  But it is what it is and I have done what I needed to do. 

1 Thessalonians 5:18

Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus

Almost.....

There is always, always something to be thankful for—my cover picture on Facebook

            As some of you know—and for those who are not Facebook junkies—for the past 2 years—this being the 3^rd year—each day during the month of November, I have posted something I was thankful for.  Some days were easier than others (today I am thankful for my job).  Some days were serious (today I am thankful for my family) and some were rather silly (today I am thankful for whoever invented the gas light).        As November approached this year, I figured I would continue since this has obviously been one of those years to be giving extra thanks. 

            What I did not expect, was the range of emotions I experienced while deciding what I was thankful for on a certain day.  I cried when I was thankful for Heather and Lori; I laughed when I was thankful for the makers of nausea, morphine and oxycodone; I was humbled when I was thankful for Betsy and I felt guilty when I was thankful for Gaye, Lisa and Brandy for all they had to do.    I felt pride when I was thankful for my Sunday School class and I got a warm and fuzzy feeling on those days in which I was thankful for all the nurses, PA’s, support staff as well as Dr Lynn and Dr K (they had different days—could not just lump them all together!).  I admit to being overwhelmed most days when I thought back to January and everything since then.        

            I am still not done—almost there—again I might add—but not quite.  PIA is still PIA and I am still packing.   However, instead of the 1 inch tape, I am now down to the ¼ inch so the end is in sight.  Since apparently I am not the only one with memory issues—I will address chemo brain in a moment-- back in October I was gloating about winning a battle with Dr Lynn about her “reopening” PIA (she didn’t), but knowing that come November 27 she would win that battle.  I won again! (Well, not really).    PIA is healing very nicely and she is going to use me as an experiment (lovely).  I am to pack until I can no longer pack at which time I will use a bandage to keep germs out of what will then be—according to her—a pinhole.  IF for some reason PIA decides to hold true to her name and become infected again, she (Dr Lynn, not PIA) will go back and revisit the situation and if she does, it will not be like last time when I ended up in surgery and on the 2^nd floor for 3 nights.  Speaking of, and keeping with the ignorance is bliss mindset, it seems Dr Lynn and especially Billy, had been extremely worried about the staph infection back when I had to have PIA drained.  Dr Lynn kind of mentioned it this week and later that same night Mom told me Billy had been really worried too—which explains why Billy spent his weekend off in the hospital with me.  And to think I thought he was just bored and had nothing better to do.

            In addition to Dr Lynn, I had an appointment right before her with my radiologist, Dr N.  When I went to sign in, Peter, one of my techs, walked by—heard me talking to the receptionist and did a double take—and started laughing at my curls.  Then the nurse came to get me and did the same thing—as she was making me get on that damn scale.  Not funny.  Dr N then comes in and he starts laughing at my curls.   What could I do aside from just shake my head?  (Apparently my curls are a source of amusement for many people—but I especially like the people who come in and say “I like your haircut and I had no clue your hair was so curly.” Well, neither did I.  I have not voiced it – yet).  Anyway, he cleared me and I do not have to go back for 4 months.  Nice!

            Okay—time to address the chemo brain.   Earlier this week, NBC Nightly News had a segment on it how it does exist.  I was watching with Mom when the woman they interviewed (an author) talked about when she was going through chemo her thoughts were foggy and how she searched for words and still continues to do so.  Mom looked at me and asked if that is how I felt.  And yes, it is.  The fog has lifted on a lot of things, and while the memory is getting a bit better, it is nowhere near where it had been.  For example, we had a bunch of people join the church while I went through chemo.  I met them all and most of them, I cannot tell you their names or could I pick some of them out of a crowd—so not me.   I find that if I don’t make a list, I will not remember (of course I lose the lists which then creates another problem).  And words escape me now—especially when in a conversation.  And comprehending things—nope—not happening for the most part.  Baby steps I keep telling myself.  Frustrating—you bet—but it is what it is.  It could be worse.

            I ended my Facebook thankfuls this morning this way:  As strange as this sounds, I am thankful for this year.  The blessings have far outnumbered what I went through.  I am so grateful and so very, very blessed. 

            And I am lucky, so very lucky, to have so many awesome people in my life—near, far, in person and in the computer—there really are no words.

           

Time marches on....

Milestone: An important event; a turning point.

                Back in September, I promised Dr K I would get something for flu prevention. He said my immune system was still pretty much shot and although it is getting better each day, he wanted me to stay that way.   He said shot and I said spray, but I agreed.  After all, I did get the spray last year and never got the flu.  Got breast cancer, but never did get the flu.

            So on Monday, 328 days after the last time I had sat waiting for Dr Jones, I found myself in the room where it all began, waiting on her.  She walks in, looks at me and says “I know you are thinking it—back to where it all began.  Tell me about it.”  So I did.  I told her I owed her so much for giving me Dr Lynn who in turn gave me Dr K and I had been so lucky and blessed with my medical care and all those involved.  I then told her I drove Dr K nuts by ending up in the hospital so many times, and how Portia ruptured – she said I bet she  (Dr Lynn) was ticked- I assured her ticked was not the right word, but she was already laughing thinking about it.  (She knows my crazy surgeon).  And I got a physical.  A normal physical.  NORMAL!!!!!  She then asked me about all those normal things—glucose, cholesterol, etc and I told her I had not had labs in ages and did not know.  As it was an afternoon appointment, she knew I had eaten, but she asked just in case we could work around it.  I confessed to eating  Big Mac—something I have not had in months and will not have again for a few more months and of course she says—did you have fries?  Why yes, I did have a few.  Then damned if I did not get the look and the you need to lose a few pounds talk.  Well crap.   I tried to tell her how Dr K always told me I was at a good weight (I forgot to mention I always yelled back at him a good weight for who) but she was having none of it.  So much for the cancer excuse. 

            Anyway, while we were talking, I remembered I had been a wee bit sick when I got the flu spray and since elections are so close, and I cannot be sick as it is going to be a long day (Chief Judge here..:)), I mentioned not getting the spray for a week or two.  She says fine and then says she needs to think about me getting the spray. “Why?”  I ask—“well” she explains “the spray is live and the shot is not.”  Double crap.  She laughed her head off when I said (under my breath but apparently loudly) “the hell with Dr K… I am NOT getting a shot. Besides, I don’t see him until March.”  However, as I was leaving I was told I WOULD be getting the shot when I came in for blood work.  Lovely. 

            It’s been a while since I updated, so here are a few things—milestones if you would—I have conquered?!  First, while Pia is still an open wound, I am now packing it myself.  When I informed Dr Lynn of this on Tuesday, she said “oh, your poor mother.  It was her job.”   I told her Mom was now able to more freely about her life.  She then told me it was about time to do it on my own. I told her to make up her mind.  By the way, apparently Pia is going to take a while to heal due to my compromised immune system courtesy of the radiation.  We are talking January.  Lovely. And she will not let it close until she is ready.  Translated that means she will be opening it again (in the office) in the near future.  I will say her near future was Tuesday and my near future is November 29.  I won that battle.  Of course we all know how I am.  Bet I will be calling her in a few weeks.  Then I will have to hear how she is always right…

            I also ditched Scarlett and Lizzie.  I was hoping to do it October 1 for Breast Cancer Awareness month, but I walked into work on Saturday, September 29 and told Gaye it was driving me nuts.  She said take it off—so I did.  Funny, I always knew I would lose the wig while working with Gaye.  Have not put them on since.  Liberating, but scary at the same time.  It was very short those first few weeks and the reactions were amusing at times.  The one that killed me was “I love your new haircut.”   Seriously, do you really think I did this on purpose was all I wanted to say to some people.  But I refrained.  My other response was “my oncologist made me do it.”  I tried that out a few weeks ago on one of my patrons who laughed and laughed and then it turns out she knows Dr K.  Great… just great was my thought!  Many people did not know I had been sick, they just thought I was working different hours—tells you how great Scarlett and Lizzie really were!  The real hair is coming back nicely—thick and curly.  And it is at that stage in which people just want to touch it—makes me laugh. 

            Drum roll please….. I worked 40 hours last week!!  The first time since the week before Thanksgiving of last year!  Yes, it just about killed me, but it would have been a nice kill.  I am basically there.  Yes, I am probably overdoing it—not just at work; I am getting my life back.  It is a wonderful feeling. 

            Life has gone on and I am so thankful I am still here for the ride!