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.