With a grateful heart

Today I had the privilege to be one of the speakers for our annual Laity Sunday at church.  I will say I was set up.  When MJ asked me to talk, I held off thinking no way.  Stupid me, I then asked what was the topic.  When she smiled and said gratitude, I knew I was hosed.  I tried to avoid the inevitable by telling her I had to pray about it, but she knew and I knew I had to say yes.  (a big shout out to Lisa Brown who came up with the theme--- yes, I know and yes, someday I will get back at you—when you least expect it).

             Strangely enough, I struggled over what to say.  I was not sure which road to take and I have about 7 unfinished versions to back me up.  Pastor Bill told me to use my blogs—then he got this funny look and said, well, maybe some of the things in the blog.  I took pride in knowing he was probably worrying about what was going to come out of my mouth.  He did not have to as if I said anything I should not have, Mom would have killed me. 

Below is what I said—there were a few minor additions and I will have to say I was pretty darn proud of myself as I did not do that Jersey fast talk and I only lost my place I think 3 times.  It was a wonderful service as not only was it Laity Sunday, it was Quilt Sunday—the quilters—have now made 1032 quilts for Barium Springs Home for Children and the Serenity Garden and Columbarium was dedicated. 

So here you go!

I was 6 weeks old when I was adopted.  All I know is my biological mother was 16, from North Carolina and was sent to New Jersey to have me. I have never had the need to seek her out, but if I did, it would be to say thank you for loving me so much and to let her know I was okay and have had a wonderful life.   God placed me exactly where I was supposed to be.  When I was almost 2, we “got” Billy and the family was complete.  Up until I was 10 and Billy was 8, we had your typical childhood.  It was then Dad was diagnosed with cancer and the world as we knew it changed.  He died 2 years later and while he was gone, I still had a wonderful life.  I was surrounded by people who loved me—including my church family who were so important during Dads illness and death and I was raised with God in my life. Life was different without Dad, but it was good and Mom made it so.    3 years later, my best friend’s mother Sue  died of cancer and I remember telling Mom I was so thankful she was the one still alive as even though I missed Dad, I needed my mom.    Words I have said a million times over throughout the course of my life. I remember thanking God in my prayers for giving me my family as I saw being blood related was not always what it was all cracked up to be. 

Then my cousin Mark got cancer.  He was 2 years older than me and was 39 when he died.  He suffered.  His bible verse was James 1: 2-4—Consider it pure joy my brothers and sisters whenever you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of you faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.  He lived this to the moment he died.   He struggled, yet was at peace.  I never quite understood how he did it and then I got cancer and it all fell into place.

            I found the lump late on Monday, December 5, 2011.  I knew what it was the moment I found it and I cried.  I did and said nothing.  I checked again Tuesday night and that dang thing was still there so I cried a bit more and called Dr Jones the next morning and was in her office within 2 hours.  All the time I was like really?  Seriously?  I had just had a mammogram in July which supposedly was good—so what the heck? I had a moment of denial—but deep down I still knew.  And on December 29, I sat down with Dr Alison Lynn and she says “I do not need a biopsy to know it is cancer.”   3 things popped into my head—first—oh crap I have cancer second—I don’t have a bucket list and third—I am attached to my hair. She told me she thought it was Stage One and it looked like it had not spread so the treatment would just be radiation.  She had just confirmed what I had known for weeks and I was filled with this amazing calmness and peace—a peace that only God can give and I knew with certainty, I was going to be fine. 

      On January 6, I had a lumpectomy and I knew the moment Dr Lynn walked into recovery my life was just about to get a bit more exciting and my hair was history.  Turns out it was in the lymph nodes and it also turned out that I was Stage 3 and since I had lymph node involvement, I was looking at about 6 rounds of chemo followed by radiation.  Again I was at peace and again I knew without a doubt I was going to be fine.  But that bump in the road had just become a really large pothole. Still, there was much to be thankful for.  Stage 3 was better than Stage 4 and 4 out of 20 nodes was a whole lot better than 15 out of 20 and I had plenty of sick leave.

 In your heart you plan your life, but the Lord decides where your steps take you.   Proverbs 16:9

            I believe God is always with you and while everyone faces obstacles, trials or whatever you might call them, he also gives you the tools—or as I thought of them—nourishment-- to get through those times.  You just have to open your heart and mind and take it for what it is.   My nourishment came in many forms.  From people I never expected to be there to those who went above and beyond.  It came from my wacky sense of humor—I named everything—Portia was my port, -- then she ruptured and Pedro the pic line took over.  My wigs were Scarlett and Lizzie – you get the idea.   I also have this ability to remove myself from the moment at hand by focusing on something else—it is like I am really not there.  Strange, I know, but it has come in handy.   And more importantly, I realized – quickly I might add-- the more I let God take over, the more I let my faith grow, the better I was.  I am not sure when I first noticed the sign—it was in December, and on the right in Ogden.  Your typical church sign.  It said Be still and know I am God.  That sign stayed up until March—at which time it changed to Walk by faith….not by sight.  It changed a few more times, always speaking to me.  In August, when it changed to Yard Sale Saturday, I knew I was through the worst.

            For me, the blessings I received from my cancer far outweighed the negatives. While I never did things the easy way, everything was always, in my mind, doable.  I did 6 rounds of chemo and ended up in the hospital 4 out of those 6 times.  It drove Dr Kotz nuts.  The first time I ended up on the 10^th floor, he told me it could be 5 days.  I rolled my eyes and said no way it will be no more than 3 and he said my job is to keep you safe—something he repeated time and time again.  He also said he was going for the cure and he did not want to decrease the chemo.  Well, he did what he said; he got the cure and kept me safe, even when I threw him all those curve balls.  And I never spent more than 3 days either.  After chemo I was delighted to be cremated for 6 ½ weeks. Every day, Monday – Friday 4:30 pm standing appointment.   Someone commented on my blog that her father said radiation was a piece of cake—if that someone is sitting in this room—he lied.    I was burned from the inside out and to me it was worse than chemo.  At least with chemo I was drugged most of the time.  Still, it could have been worse. Many times I assumed the radiation position and tossed up a thank you prayer to God for being able to treat me, although it would have been better if it did not hurt as much.   

      Back to my blessings— topping the list is the people—family, friends, church family, medical staff, strangers, patrons—you name them and they were there.  I received cards, gifts and advice from friends and strangers. It was a bit overwhelming at times—but, as I had been advised to do, I embraced it.  Very, very humbling, yet I am so very thankful to be surrounded by such caring people.   It would take too long to point out everyone, but I would like to publicly say thank you to Mom as there is no way on earth I could be the caregiver she was.   Speaking of Mom—remember I found the lump the night of December 5?  That was also the night PW women met—and that was also the night when they went around the room asking for prayers and she gave a praise—she was thankful for her children’s health.  She has promised to never ever say that again.   A little late for me, but hopefully Bill will be spared.  Speaking of my brother, I would like to publically thank him as well.  As surgeon he came in quite handy at times—even if he did say—oh don’t worry, it is nothing.

       There were some people I thought would step up and they did not.  It took me a little by surprise until I realized they just did not know what to say or do.  And I got it and understood completely.  And then there were people who popped in when I never expected—and they will always be a part of my life.  And lastly, there are those who came in, helped me and drifted away— everyone had a purpose and I am so thankful for each and everyone. 

            I am thankful for all cancer has given me and honestly, I would not trade it for anything in the world.  To me the biggest negative was it affected so many people who love me and I hated that.  I hated I was a reminder to those who had walked this road before me and I hated Mom had to be a caregiver yet again. 

            I learned so much about myself and the world around me.  I learned that if I left my day planner at home, my world did not come to an end.  I learned that if I did not get to it, life still went on.  I learned to just let it go.  I learned there are much worse things than chemo, and losing my hair did not define me.  I found out chemo brain does exist and there are side effects to everything.  I learned by being positive, you could change an outlook.  I learned I was loved, cared for and special.  I learned kids get it sometimes better than adults.   I learned a card could make a day, Renee Beckers’s chicken soup cured all and wigs can be misplaced.  I learned by saying now what and no, that will never happen, was a sure sign it would happen.  I learned things I could have gone my entire life not knowing. I also learned my friends are worth their weight in gold and I hope and pray that if ever the circumstances are reversed, I can pay it back 10 fold. 

     Earlier I said I had a blog—I did the blog for 2 reasons—first to keep people up to date and second, it was a release for me.  During the past few weeks, I have read it from the beginning to my latest post.   As I was reading and remembering, it felt kind of like a dream—as if it had never happened.  But it did and I made it through.  I do wonder if I would have approached this the same way if I knew it was terminal.  I sure hope so. 

    If you are familiar with Facebook, then you know what a cover picture is. For those of you who are not familiar—when you log onto a person’s profile—there is a banner of sorts and that is the cover picture.  I have changed it once in a while, but I always go back to what is on there today.   It says there is always, always, always something to be thankful for. 

     I am so thankful to be a child of God.

 

It is what it is....

Special—adjective --

Surpassing what is common or usual; exceptional:

 Peculiar to a specific person or thing; particular.

All of my doctors—oncologist, radiologist and surgeon are all right around the corner from each other.  However, I take different routes as it is easier to get to Dr Nichols by going down Market and getting on 16^th and easier to take Military Cutoff to Shipyard to get to Dr K and Dr Lynn.  Last year, when I was going to them for what seemed to be every day, I was able to gauge how late I was by where I was at a certain time.  I knew I had to hit College and Oleander with 15 minutes to spare or I was screwed getting to Dr K or Dr Lynn.  I have been to Wilmington a million and one times since I had last seen Dr K and I never thought about it.  Until today.  I hit College and Oleander at 9:43am and all I thought was “I got this.”  Strange the things which go through a person’s mind at the weirdest times; then again, it was better than focusing on the am I going to have to have blood drawn today worry. 

            I get there with minutes to spare and am called in by a nurse who I had never seen before, so I behaved myself.  She asked me to get on the scale and then she took my height.  Instead of taking the weight out on her, I stuck with the height.  5’2” --I say… she says no--5’1” and you were 5’1 ½” last time (great, now I am shrinking.  As if I did not have enough things on my mind).  She puts me in a room, asks me a few normal questions and says “the doctor will be in shortly.” Oh please… this is real life, not a TV show—I almost snorted.    Since chemo brain is usually in full swing when I have questions, I get out my trusty pack of note cards (some of you thought I was going to say day planner—nope—I actually LEFT that at home.  Okay, I forgot it, but still, I did not panic).  For the record, I have a ton of them.  Some have writing on them, some are blank—for those moments I have a thought and remember to write something down.  They are clipped together with a pink clip—makes it easier to find as well as keeping them in one place.  I am ready.

            Dr K walks in and gives me a hug, says you look great and laughs when I say “look—I have hair!”  He sits down and starts.  I know he saw the cards, but smart man, he ignored them.  But I figure he has his questions and after a few of them, we get down to business.  It starts with the how is the tamoxifen going.  Hmmm, funny you should mention it… I am having side effects.  So, looking at my cards, I go into the side effects I am having.   I tell him how my joints and bones are aching and how at the end of the day my fingers ache and sometimes I just can’t type. I tell him about the calf cramps and calf spasms.   He looks at me and asks if they are minor, severe and are they affecting my quality of life.  He asks if anything helps, I tell him sometime times I take Advil if it is really bad.   I told him they were annoying, but I was adapting.   That is when he knew it was bothering me.  However, as he went through the 3 possibilities, I knew exactly what he was thinking and I knew I was on it for better or for worse.  Long story short, it is the best for me now and even when he changes it over to something else, the same side effects might occur.  Plus, to add insult to injury, he asked me if I heard about the study and I said yes.  5 years was just upped to 10.   Oh well, I am on this side of the ground. 

            It was then I figured I might as well march on (good thing I had my cards) and told him I had looked up all the side effects and apparently most people have weight loss.  He looked at my chart and said you are better than in September and I told him that was not the point, the point was I was actually trying to lose weight and have even cut out sugar for the most part and he says that is great.  I said not for the cupcake people.  He just started laughing.  Then my stomach starts rumbling—at which point I said—yup- I got that bloating gassy side effect too. He looks at me and says “that is an uncommon side effect” and he just starts smiling.  He lost it when I say ‘’ figures and why do I always have to be the special one?”

            Then, my kind and caring doctor comes back to earth and tells me he is sorry for my side effects and he means it.    He has me figured out, he knows that if it worsens, I will tolerate it so he makes a point to tell me a few times, you are to call me if it gets worse.  And then he sends me on my way with a see you in the fall and you better call if needed. 

            I admit it; I walked out of there pretty down.  I know I should just count my blessings and I know he is keeping me safe but seriously?  5 to 10 more years of this crap? Lovely.   So I did the only thing I could do… I went to Whole Foods and got a 5 star chocolate bar (Lake Champlain Chocolates—the fruit one in case you were interested—awesome I might add).  Yup, I skipped the cupcake.  Okay, I only skipped it as today was not Chocolate Peanut Butter day at Coastal Cupcakes. 

            So, fingers crossed, prayers sent up and lots of hope I will not have to call Dr K before September. 

 

Joshua 1:9

 

               

Lessons learned

Life is a gift, and it offers us the privilege, opportunity and responsibility to give something back by becoming more—Anthony Robbins

I often wonder why I got cancer (and yes, I usually answer myself with why not --imagine those conversations back and forth—I can carry on quite an amusing conversation with myself at times).  And yes, I do wonder what I did that really pissed God off.  Then I dig deeper and realize there is a lesson to be learned in everything (but I still wonder….).

I am pretty sure the plan was for me to learn a few lessons.  Lesson number one was to never say never or now what.  Saying those words was (and is) an immediate set up for the now what or never to actually happen.  I know, I lived it. More than once too.  I was slow on the uptake; very slow—slow like the sloth.   Lesson number two was let go.  Again, I was a little slow on the uptake, but I got there.  I gave up my day planner, I gave in to my boss, and I just gave into things.  Very hard for someone as independent and yes—I will say it—headstrong as me.         

Lesson number three was facing and conquering my fear of cancer.  As with most people, I have been surrounded by cancer. If you have not been, count your blessings.  I lost a grandmother, a father, a cousin, an aunt, and too many others along the way. The one thing which always made an impact on me was the nausea and all that comes with that (for those that are slow on the uptake—I am talking throwing up/puking, praising the porcelain god... you get the idea).  It terrified me.  I would rather have a shot (with a needle, not tequila) then get sick.  And I HATE needles.  I think God spared me as lesson four kicked in and he was pleased.

Lesson four was, to me, the most important lesson as well as the easiest.  In fact, learning was not even part of the lesson—all I had to do was open my eyes, mind and heart and trust in something which had always been a part of me.  I had to trust my faith.  I will not go much further as I will not force any of my thoughts and beliefs on others (religion, like politics, is a very personal thing).  But I will say God is an awesome God and is always there, we just need to let him in. I never felt alone and I knew he would take care of me. I always, always knew I would be fine and he always surrounded me with a peace I knew only he could provide.

Yes, I learned a bunch of lesson.  I have said it before and I will say it again and again…cancer was humbling.  More than anything, I hated to put my family and friends through it.  I hated putting those who had walked this walk before me through it.   And I hated when people told me I was an inspiration.  I did what I had to do and there was no point in complaining.  Trust me; it was not as bad as it could have been.  Strangely enough, I have been done with treatments since August and yet I am not sure I have really accepted the fact it is over and I am a survivor.  I get to test that survivor thing and finally deal with it on April 12 when I participate in the Relay for Life here in Onslow County  and I walk the survivor lap (and if you would like to donate…here is your chance… shameful, I know, but what the heck!!!) http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR?fr_id=53024&pg=personal&px=5204055   (highlight and hold down the CTRL key and click or cut and paste!).   

Yes, I am nervous as to me, it is a very big step, but one I need to take and in the process, I get to pay it forward and hopefully help prevent even one case of cancer in the future.  To me this step says, you are done and you have won this battle. Something I never could have done without the love and support of family and friends, an amazing medical team and God.  Thank you!

 

 

 

 

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.