Completed

This blog is completed. I'm in a new part of life ... wellness!

If you want to start this blog at the beginning, nine months ago, click here and follow me along the path.

I have written my thoughts and actions of the past nine months as a web log.

This blog starts when I was diagnosed with Stage 2 Ductal Cell Carcinoma breast cancer ...  that started in my left breast and spread through my left armpit lymph nodes. 

This blog journeys through the treatments of surgery, surgery, chemos, radiations. I didn't include the final surgery.

This blog ends with the start of a new chapter in my life, jumping into HEALTHY! Mind, body and spirit. This new chapter, well, let's hope it is a really, really, really long one.

All the best to you, dear readers.

My Drishti

What would be my answer to, What have I learned during the past nine months?

Keep my eyes focused on Jesus.
That's the heart of it.

Keep God as my drishti.

I will explain.

Drishti is a yoga term for the point you focus on, or gaze on. The point you direct your eyes to when you are in a pose. Most important to me in the balancing poses, to find a drishti that isn't too low to the floor so I fall forward, or too much to the left so I lean left, too far to the right and I lean right. Too high up, well, that doesn't seem to be a problem as I haven't started to levitate from a pose, yet.

Choose God as my focal point all day long.

Put God in the center of my everything.

Live in His presence.

Refer to Him, look to Him, think about Him.

Pursue Him.

Be used by Him.

Realize that my relationship with God is the single most important thing in every minute of my life. 

How in the world do I do THAT? Just like those abs in yoga, if I take my focus off for even just a little bit, my gaze goes elsewhere and I loose it. I veer off the path He has set out for me. I need to ask God to help me keep focused on Him. I need to CHOOSE to do this. All Day Long.

How can you keep your focus on something that is invisible? That's why you have to be still. Remember from Psalm 46, Be Still. Rushing around, busy as a bumblebee and processing the one thousand or so sensory bits coming at us each day. Well let's face it. You will not be able to see the invisible.  You can barely see the visible world zooming by you.

Be Still, wait on the Lord, ask for His help, seek first His kingdom, acknowledge His Glory.  Like the shepherd of Psalm 23, He will restore your soul, provide your every need, guide you, be with you. He will even anoint your head with oil. More so, He will do this FOREVER.

Get that, HE will do this. FOREVER.

That's the IDEA in capital letters. But what is the action plan, oh you ask, those of you who have sat through strategic planning weekends?  For me, at this point in my life, here it is. It will change through the years, I know. But for me now:

• Add some items to my daily life so that my gaze rests on reminders of God throughout the day.  I will post Bible verses around my home, place a cross on the wall next to the garage door, wear my pink pearl bracelet always always always to remind me to be thankful. 

• Bells of mindfulness. I will try to think of God every time I walk through a door. A door is transition, change from one room to another, an end and a beginning. I will try this. If it doesn't work, I will try another Bell of Mindfulness. 

• Take time to talk with God especially when I wake up and when I lay down. 

• Put aside time during the day to read the Bible (printing out Psalms and leaving them around the house works) and to study the Bible with others. Be excited about what I read, just as I am Franzen's latest novel or the new new movie that's just out. 

• Go to church and stay active at church. Be an enthusiastic Christian at church. Do you get more out of a sport by watching it being played, or by being on that very team that is playing? Hm, well then, don't just show up at church on Sundays, become a part of the church. Join a small group bible study, volunteer at church.

• Looking into retreats. In a lifelong journey, I need to have some variety and a shot of adrenaline to keep it alive. I want to allow myself time and atmosphere to actively go inside my soul once in awhile, so I don't need to get cancer again. Ever. Retreats, or at least travel. Get out of the normal routine once in awhile.

• Continue using guided meditation tapes by Colleen Arnold, Bernie Siegel, Joyce Rupp, etc.

• Search out friends who feed my soul. Appreciate and grow the friendships that already do. Make sure I take time each day to be with friends, and family. Remember, no one's dying breath has even been, Oh I wish I had spent more time at the office or Oh I wish I had vacuumed the floor more often. 

• Keep love and light and forgiveness and thankfulness as not only words but as actions in my life. 

• Be gentle on myself. Don't put myself first, or last.

• Live intentionally.

• Evaluate how am I doing, once a year on the anniversary of the end of my past nine months.  

• Choose Love. 

My nine months of healing physically and spiritually are done.

Thank you dear friends for your prayers and kindnesses,
for your showers of love
and for your hands that lifted me up.

Thank you for walking down the path with me.
I could not have done this alone.

You and I, we are divine and we are loved.
With an everlasting love.

How cool is that?

How has cancer changed you?

I have been asking cancer survivors I happen to be in conversation with, how has cancer changed you?

Dear friend reading this, you know that from the beginning I knew cancer would be used by God for good in my life. Redirection. I want to learn the lessons, make the changes, and live life to the fullest. I want to embrace all God has set out for me on my path.

So what were their answers? (I paraphrased some of their words)

1. Surround myself with reminders that Jesus is my Lord and King and He is in control. Wear a cross my daughter gave me, read devotionals on line, look for Him. Work with Christians. Ask where can I help others see that God is alive and working in their lives.

2. Look for people, events, places that nourish my soul.

3. Try to go to mass every day. Look for ways to inspire others.

4. Encourage others. Be God's hands to show love. And don't stress out over it, God will show me what he wants me to do. Also, be gentle on myself, enjoy every day.

5. Realize that God's timing isn't always my timing. He is in control.

6. Spend more time alone, in prayer, reading. Start my day, every day, reading the Bible and praying.

7. Surround myself with positive people, uplifting people and fun teams of people.

8. Always have accountability, usually to a Bible Study group.

9. Do something every day that is fun, that makes me laugh.

10. I have been redirected to “pay it forward” (the blessings I have received) back out into the universe in any way that I can.

11. I realized just how much I wanted to live, and the appreciation for what I still do have in my life. I will no longer sweat the small stuff and I am now determined that no matter what it will be okay.  I will make the most of everyday and appreciate everything and everyone in it no matter how small it might be. I am determined to become the positive person that I was so many years ago. I will let nothing take that from me again.

12. Cancer forced me to focus on myself, something that was not even in my vocabulary.  Yes, we all could and should walk that extra mile to help someone else in need, but not at the expense of your own health and well being.

13. I no longer say yes when I want to say no.

14.  I count my blessing each and every day.

15. I have a renewed focus on God, meditation, and journaling. I want to be sure I don’t “stuff” my feelings through this process, and stay out of fear-based thinking.

humble, grateful

A thought came to me, thinking about my fellow cancer fighters.
You fight, you battle, you give it all you can, you win.
But not everyone wins.

I am stopped in my tracks about a young girl and two guys my age, all three died the end of last year. Boom. Six months ago they were here, fighting as I was fighting. Now they are gone. Of cancer.

Why them, not me?
They went to doctors, and they prayed. I am sure they prayed fiercely, and people prayed for them. Good prayers. They did the same things I did. 
Here I am, why was I allowed to live?

Maybe it isn't about me. We are each one thread in that beautiful tapestry of life. Some things happen which aren't about me or you, they are about someone else. The end result is to be with God for eternity as part of His work.

But why am I a lucky one?

This is a mystery I will not understand while I am on earth.
My heart aches for their families and friends. They are, all three of them, in heaven now. I am certain of this.

And here I am.
Thinking of them, I get all quiet.

This summer I asked a dear friend, fellow cancer survivor, how did she feel every day, ten years after her surgery and chemo. She told me she feels so grateful and humble everyday when she thinks of three women who had breast cancer when she did, and aren't with us today.

I thought to myself then, I don't feel humble. Or grateful. I don't feel either of them, even one iota of humble or grateful. I was in the midst of chemo. What I felt like was a boxer in the ring, or like a soldier carrying 80 pounds of equipment in 110 degree heat. I was in the middle of the fight. Adrenaline was pumping.

Now, six months later, a 180 degree turn around in thinking.
I feel truly humble that I am allowed more days.
Humble with a lower case H. 
And grateful, thankful, achingly appreciative
that I am allowed more days.

The quiet in my soul is a good quiet. A peaceful quiet.
A still and motionless quiet.
An expectant intake of breath quiet.

I am a serene little sparrow, not an elegant and powerful raptor but a common backyard sparrow.
Curious, small, alert and looking at everything around me.
No one notices me when they pass by though.
No one takes my photo or texts to their friends that they saw a gray-brown sparrow sitting on a branch this morning.
I am perfectly okay with that. 

I  am sitting at the foot of the cross, looking up into the face of Jesus.
He looks down at me with love and tenderness. 
To Him, I am the reason.

Out, Out Damned Port!

Sixteen days since the last radiation. Started anastrozole (generic Arimidex) fifteen days ago. Will be on this estrogen-sponging drug for five years.

How am I feeling? Physically I am achy and profoundly tired. I like the word profoundly, don't you. Makes whatever comes after it appear more serious and intellectual and true. And deep. Have to say it in a British accent.

So profoundly tired that, Monday when I was up and out for five hours middle of the day, I came home and was shivering under the quilt watching television that afternoon. Just couldn't get my body to stop. Every cell depleted of energy.

And the ache, it is so unexpected. Hands and hips and shoulders and elbows just ache. While moving and while not moving. Yoga helps, so does Advil. And exercise. This is one side effect of anastrozole. Dr. M says try it for four weeks, it might ameliorate. If not, there are other drugs I can try. Gotta step up the ladder of cost. We will figure this out. Can't take Advil this week because I am getting THE PORT OUT...

...and that is cause for celebration! This port in the inside of my upper arm has bugged me the whole eight months it has been in. I have been dreaming of when I can get it out. Getting it out is easy, in the surgeon's office. Just can't take any blood thinning pills such as Advil, Vitamin E, flax seed oil for a few days.  Can't wait!!!

This is the port (out of my arm...)

Also, the removal of this port in my arm marks the end of intense warfare. No more chemo. No more radiation. No more surgery requiring drains which make you feel like an octopus. Treatments are done and they have worked, Thank you Lord!  Hair is over half an inch long, no more wig. Eyebrows are coming in. Nails still really brittle, but they are there!

Have to say the tough part about now is, I have been battling breast cancer for nine months. And WE HAVE WON. But I am tired, and the newness is gone, and I think I should be feeling energetic and thrilled and all should be back to normal. But not yet. I need to be patient. I have been told, after chemo then radiation, it can take six to twelve months to be back to normal. Well, I am almost one month into that, five to eleven months to go.

Had a biopsy at the dermatologist yesterday for basal cell carcinoma on my shoulder. I have not an ounce of concern about this. If it is cancerous, they will just cut it out, no worries. How a year of breast cancer changes your perspective.

Perspective. Your point of reference.
Where you are standing.

Where are you standing?

What are you looking at?

These are two wonderful questions.

Psalm 46

If you think that my past nine months can be thought of as a high risk exploration of uncharted darkness, then here's a quote.

We shall not cease from exploration. 
And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started 
and know the place for the first time. T. S. Eliot. 

Where was my starting block for this nine month race?

It was sitting in the car in the radiology parking lot, before hearing my biopsy results. I asked God for a verse, because I knew the results were going to be cancer. They had called me minutes before, asking me to appear in person to hear my biopsy results. I wasn't going to leave the car until I had a verse. A verse to hold in my heart the entire time. The verse He gave me was

Be still, and know that I am God. Psalm 46. 
have held onto that verse for nine months. I have it posted over my computer at my desk, I have had Psalm 46 printed out and sitting on my bedside table, I have had this verse on the bottom of my e-mails for the past nine months.  I have seen this verse and repeated it at least a dozen times each day. I have thought about it for hours.

The "Be Still" part happened. We knew that would. We all see that. I was physically tired,  made to feel ill from surgeries, chemo, radiation.  Had to stop my life and take a break. My soul was able to take a breather as well. Not as much stimulus coming in, allowing for more thought time and inner conversations. I could meditate, think, pray, roll an idea around my mind for hours and hours. Uninterrupted.

The "and Know that I am God" part is what took the nine months for me to see; I hope I will be understanding this part more deeply each year.

Reading the entire Psalm, it is a really powerful Psalm. I have copied it at the end of this entry. This isn't a Psalm about meditation and a mild-mannered middle aged woman  like me doing a workbook on Jesus in the safety of my light blue upholstered chair with a cup of tea sitting next to me. No, this is a Psalm about the ONLY true source of life and light and love in the world. Who has the WHOLE UNIVERSE in the palm of His hand. The point of reference is HUGE natural disaster or nations at war.

God is so powerful that when the very ground you are standing on crumbles without a moment's notice, and when something you knew to be the very definition of solid and trustworthy starts to disintegrate and slide beneath the surface into the darkness, well, God is patiently waiting for you to look to Him. We are told to Be Still. In the midst of earthquakes and tsunamis, war and suffering, sickness and health. Be Still, and look to Him.

You know, that is how I have felt so many times, especially at the start of the past nine months. Sitting hearing the doctor say It's cancer, as if the very ground I am standing on is crumbling. Deciding between mastectomy or lumpectomy, as if mountains are sliding into the crashing ocean. It is all falling apart, my life, my marching forward, many-faceted life. What power can put this out of control train back on the track?

God.

Know that He is the center of all we know, the creator of all life, the source of all love and light.

What does "know" mean?

To know an idea is to understand it in your brain. But it is more. To know is to have that idea move from the academic memorizing of it as a fact, to the deep seated understanding of it as a three dimensional substantial truth. To see its depth and width and height and its colors. To know is to have it become a part of you.
God wants me to know that He is God. Really know this. Know it so much that it becomes a part of me. That I live every day as if I know HE is the absolute truth, the most solid of solid and powerful of powerful.

The more I know that He is God, the more I see that I want the King of the Universe, the Creator and Savior of Man, the Author and Finisher of my faith to be, well, everything in my life. I want Him to be who I say hello to when I wake up. I want to praise Him and thank Him first thing. I want to let Him guide my steps and my thoughts all day long. I want Him to fill me with His Spirit and His Love. I want to take refuge in Him, to be used by Him, to be restored by Him and to be guided by Him.

How in the world do I do THAT? Well, since He is so powerful, it is simple. Ask Him to help me. The only part I have to do it ask, and then be still so I can hear His answers, all day every day.  Just obey.
-------------------------------------------------------

Psalm 46^. A song.

 ¹ God is our refuge and strength,
   an ever-present help in trouble.
² Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way
   and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,
³ though its waters roar and foam
   and the mountains quake with their surging.


 ⁴ There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
   the holy place where the Most High dwells.
⁵ God is within her, she will not fall;
   God will help her at break of day.
⁶ Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall;
   he lifts his voice, the earth melts.

 ⁷ The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress.

 ⁸ Come and see what the LORD has done,
   the desolations he has brought on the earth.
⁹ He makes wars cease
   to the ends of the earth.
He breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
   he burns the shields with fire.
¹⁰ He says, “Be still, and know that I am God;
   I will be exalted among the nations,
   I will be exalted in the earth.”

 ¹¹ The LORD Almighty is with us;
   the God of Jacob is our fortress.

Travel Safely into the Unknown

Fear is thinking that the future will not be good. (my definition)
Fear is a distressing emotion aroused by a perceived threat. (dictionary definition)

Pink from Tuesday

I have tried to cast off the mantle of fear all my life, ever since I can remember thinking thoughts. Fear of no one liking me, fear of will I get into college, will I graduate, does he love me, will I be alone, will my baby be healthy, will he follow God, will he choose the narrow road, can I walk the narrow road, will I be alive next year...

Would you want to have a written schedule for your entire life, telling you what choices to make each day? You check your schedule right after waking up - today do yoga, then grocery shop, call Mary and then sign up for the photography class. Then after lunch you go to your desk .... follow the schedule.

First of all, I would be a little freaked out having a written schedule appear every morning on my bedside table. WHERE DID THIS COME FROM?

No, you don't want to be told everything, just the big things.  You want to plan your fun minutes, and let God take care of the serious moments.

Well, it doesn't work that way. Every hour in our day is what makes us who we are, they bundle together to create us. The hours congregate to form our days, which all strung together forms our lives, our souls and bodies.

If we had that schedule laid out for us every day, we wouldn't need to keep our eyes focused on God all day long.We would keep our eyes on the schedule. The key to life abundant and joyful, my friend, is keeping our eyes on God.

Keep your eyes on God, lean into Him, stay in the light of His presence. Sounds so easy.  But the trick is, you don't just do it once, you have to keep choosing to do it every minute of every day. Just like holding in your abs while you do yoga. If you don't think about it even for two seconds, they release. HA!
Keep your eyes on God, then fear is a non-issue.

Follow God's will. Oh yes, really simple eh? But what are the details of doing just that. Ask people how they know what is God's will for them.  I have been asking people for decades.  I want to know. How do you know?

Mankind has been struggling with knowing God's will for over five thousand years, so I do not pretend that I can solve this for everyone. I am working on figuring it out, life is a journey. "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. Isaiah 55

We have the Bible, inspired by His Spirit. Any choice I make won't go against the Bible. Not nitpicking the words, but the wisdom imparted in the pages.

We have prayer and meditation, listening to Him and talking with Him. BE STILL.

We have other people who walk closely with Him to shed light on our path when our flashlight battery is flickering.  These advisers I choose carefully. We have churches, communities of others who are trying to walk a similar path as us.

We have the peace of the Holy Spirit inside us, that grows and flourishes when we are walking in the path God intended for us. And feels prickly to me when I am straying.

Good news, God loves me so much that when I veer off the path, He will do all He can to redirect me and get me back on track. Even let me get cancer. That's a lot of love.  He loves you everlastingly too.

So how will I stay on this path from here on out? By looking upwards, every step of the way. I can't do it by myself. Trust that He loves me so much that He will gently show me the way.  Be Still and Know that He is God.

This was handwritten on a slip of paper found in one of Mike's Great-Grandmother's Bibles upstairs in her home in Midland Michigan. It is part of a poem by Louise Haskins, quoted by King Edward in 1937 in his Christmas radio address. It is beautiful. It hit me when I found it in her bible ten years ago, and it still stirs me.

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year
Give me light that I may travel safely into the unknown.

And He replied,

Go out into the darkness
and put your hand into the hand of God.

That shall be to you better than light
          and safer than a known way.

His Majesty, King Edward of England 1937

Pink Boa

I lay on the radiation table, hands clasped above my head according to my foam molded pillow, head turned slightly to the right. I am alone in the huge treatment room, walls painted to look friendly. They have taken two x-rays, the doctor has told the techs to tweak my position so the four radiations hit their targets precisely.

I'm in the white gown with the blue 1950's design of triangles. I hear the Trilogy's motor rev up, it is going to move into position over me. I start praying for the radiation to hit the cancer cells and squish them dead.

I am visualizing a shield over my left lung and heart and spine, to protect them from collateral damage.

I take a deep breath to give my lung cells all the oxygen possible to fight off the radiation they will get by their location. In and out.

Visualize the shield, visualize the squish of cancer cells popping. Breathe. Visualize.

Interrupting this rosary-like recitation comes my own voice clear and strong in my head saying, I am cured. I have no cancer in my body.

My mind stopped. What?

Nothing. That was it. Two sentences spoke out from somewhere deep inside.

The machine keeps humming and moving and zapping. I keep my arms and body still, but I am done. It has worked. All the surgery, chemo, radiation, prayer, visualization, and Arimidex to come... this has worked. I am cured.  Tears are coming down my face. The techs come in to make sure I haven't shifted, and they politely ignore my tears. They have seen this before I am certain.

I leave the treatment room, I take off the tent-like hospital gown and put on my top and fleece. The techs wish me well and tell me, God Bless. I can't stop the tears, happy, upwelling of emotion. Into the waiting room where S is, this was only twenty minutes, my shortest appointment ever!

Oh, how funny life is. If this had been a normal length of an appointment, I would have walked out the front door and been surprised by a white limo filled with friends and champagne.

COOL!

But I was done fifteen minutes earlier than normal, and the limo was still in downtown Winter Park gathering the well-wishers. S could stall me five minutes say, but not the fifteen  minutes needed for the limo to get from there to here! I had no idea, this was all a surprise. All this was unknown to me, so I was floating along, happy as a clam.  Not knowing there was a blip in the carefully crafted schedule. I'm a little teary-eyed still.

I have decided to not wear my wig anymore. I have a half inch of hair back already. Looks like a seven-year-old's crew cut. It will grow back, and we all will watch and celebrate. 

Back to my house we went. Moments after getting home, up drove the limo and friends. AHHHH! I got all decked out in pink. Pink cowboy hat, pink feather boas, tiara with paste diamonds, blinking flamingo necklaces.  Looking at the photos, boy I was cheesy, posing and swishing my boa. And I loved it!

Yoga pose, I was HAPPY!

What were my thoughts when I opened the door, saw friends and feathers and blinking flamingos? First I thought, okay what do I do? How should I react? I am so tired (went to La Nouba the night before which was SO FUN with the family.) How do I chat with everyone and make sure they have a good time because oh my they are doing all this for me.

That line of thinking lasted exactly ten seconds.

My second wave of thoughts washed out the first thought. Second wave said, This is SO COOL and I want to wear all the pink and Look at all these really neat women and I'll take a glass of champagne and Let me pose and This only happens once so JUST FEEL IT and Swim  in the pool of happiness!

Piled into the limo, drove to nowhere and back, waved Bye-Bye at the Cancer Institute of Florida Hospital as we passed, a lit at Park Plaza Gardens where more friends were, Table 1 and Table A. Bubbles and beads and pink balloons. Delicious strawberry champagne.

Lovely lunch, hugs and smiles and love. Just plain love. Every woman there had gone out of her way, way out of her way, to give me a flower for my bouquet of kindnesses that carried me through the past nine months. NINE MONTHS, I could have made a baby!

Some of my dear ones were out of town, but I thought about you during lunch. You guys have brought me dinner, soup, DVD's, flowers, books, texted me, lunched with me, walked with me, taken me to doctors, the list goes on and on and on.

S surprised me the night before, came down from Charlotte and was at home when we got back from dinner. Can you believe it? That in itself turned my melancholy into a celebration. Then the surprise of today revved it up even more.  I was walking on sunshine, to coin a phrase.

I asked a few of the women there what was their experience at the end of their cancer treatment. Similar to mine, you are all geared up to fight cancer, then it's an anti-climax. Too tired to celebrate. What do you do now?

Mike said doctors are trained to fix illness, they don't focus on wellness. They just don't do wellness well. You have to do that yourself.

M said, trust God will show you how to help others with what you have learned. Don't stress out over finding who to help or what to do. He will show you.

I gave out pink pearl bracelets to those who didn't have them yet.  Remembering three thank you's -
1. Thank you for being a flower in my kindnesses bouquet
2. Thank God for loving us with an everlasting love, for healing
3. Thankful hearts for trials, as they bring out love. They make us who we are today. Remember the oyster, who makes beauty from an irritating grain of sand.

Being an only child, I have the big fear of being alone. I know one of my weaknesses is needing other people. Now I also see this as a strength, as it fuels me to gather people together around me.

I have seen through the course of this healing that I am not alone. I have learned that I really do need my dear friends and family to shower me with love. And I want to shower them with love. I really do need God, who shows himself through me and others. I have learned to ask for comfort. I have learned to receive love. I have learned that I am not alone.

I have learned that God will show me the way.
Lean into him and trust.
Goodness is right around the corner, goodness and loving-kindness.
I can't always see it, but it is there. 

Words emailed last night from a dear friend L:

The absolute joy and complete "in the moment" abandon with which you embraced everyone and everything that came at you made our time together magical.

Thank you, dear friend, for allowing us to join you, through these past nine months, to surround you with the love, respect, support, sadness and happiness we felt with and for you.  That we might learn, remember and understand that one should embrace challenges with a balance of knowledge, resolve, vulnerability, determination and courage.  

 

That reaching to others and asking that they walk with you allows a depth of friendship to surface, otherwise, possibly unsaid, unexpressed.

I am not alone.
I am loved.
You are loved. 
With an everlasting love.

Off I go
knowing God will shine his light on my path
and shower you and me with love,
forever and always.

Radiation Tips

I wrote out Chemo tips, so thought as I am at the finish line of radiation I would summarize my tips to someone starting out in radiation.

1. Buy a larger, soft bra. You will swell slightly. And while you are at it, buy two Barely There Sports bras in one size larger, with no under wire and nothing rubbing you at all. I started wearing them at the half way point. By the last week, I went without a bra. By necessity.  Yes I did.

2. Ask what cream you can use to keep the skin as healthy as possible. The first week my skin burned and the breast swelled up so much they were a little concerned. I started putting on Lavender Oil, followed by Aloe, and it stayed under control. The last week they told me they were really surprised I did as well as I did, considering I was so red and swollen the first week. Lavender Oil, pure, just rub it on the whole radiation area. It absorbs right away. I bought four aloe plants, and cut off two inches each application, cut the sides of them (prickly) and rubbed the aloe right onto my skin. The doctor also suggested Aquaphor immediately after each treatment, which I did a handful of times. Remember, nothing four hours before a treatment.

3. You will be tired probably, it builds up. I started getting tired the fourth week, only Friday and the weekends. So you nap, not difficult to figure out. You do need to plan for it, realize your body is telling you it needs sleep. I would see friends at lunch, do errands then come home and nap. It is not sleepy, it is your body having little energy.

4. Radiation's effects are delayed, so you will be tired weeks past the last treatment.

5. While you are getting treatment, which is only minutes long, visualize the radiation killing the cancer cells.  Visualize your lungs and heart and nerves and bones shielded from harm. This is one of the tools to fight the cancer that was in you, and it is powerful stuff. It will work. It has worked for thousands in the past, and it will work for you.

6. Bring Joy into your life. Set yourself up to succeed. You will.
Truly, radiation is showing up to the appointments, and a little discomfort of your breast. Very do-able.

Unsettled

Two more radiations. Then I take an Arimidex pill (a generic of it) daily for the next five years.

Last night I lay in bed thinking, I should feel like jumping up and down and celebrating. Instead I feel a bit unsettled. What's this all about? Is this strange?

Ever feel like this at the end of a long-term tough time? Unsettled.

Well, first of all I am tired and blistered. Certainly throws clouds into your thoughts.

But here's what I think. I've been fighting a battle against a known enemy, tumor in the breast, tumor in the lymph nodes. We've been using tried and true heavy duty weapons like surgery, chemo and radiation. An arsenal of weapons against a tiny group of mutated cells. Statistically, they had little chance to make it through. eight months of full-on attack.

Now we are approaching a new stage. Putting away those big guns because the cancer cells are gone (standing firm on that one), need to rebuild from the collateral damage done to my healthy body over the last eight months of warfare.

There's no doctor to lead you on this path. You are on your own. Doctors focus on fixing a problem, not on maintaining wellness. I get the arm port out in January, I see the oncologist in April, and the radiology oncologist in April. They think I will have a mammogram in April. They will see me annually for five years. That's it. Slam, bam, thank you ma'am.

It's the change from front line battle under the direction of the five star general, to returning to normalcy making sure to reinvent enough of the structure of everyday life to prevent another uprising.

It's the change from full time eradicating cancer using the tested protocols dictated by doctors, to returning to normalcy making sure I redirect enough of my everyday life to prevent cancer from returning.

I see this, I am now on my own. NO WAIT, not true. Who is always with me, the Lord. Who will speak to me, guide me, promises He will meet my every need? The Lord. Who has been there every step of the way for eight months? The Lord. Who has shown me love, through my family and friends, more than I could have imagined? The Lord.

And what is the ONE thing I need to do? Be still and listen to him. Know that He is God, not me. Trust this in my heart. From the peace of my heart, He will pour out love to others. There's my mission marching forth.

Antioxidants, exercise, meditation, prayer, yoga, being with family, travel, being with friends, cooking, reading, baseball, church, time to be still. These will knit together to form my daily life. The Lord will light the path for me so I will be light hearted. All I need is here. Right here.

Day After Christmas

I have always loved the Day After Christmas. Everything is quite, everyone is peaceful, everyone feels loved. The decorations are still up, Christmas Carols are still appropriate, the refrigerator is FULL of leftovers. Good leftovers. There are absolutely no expectations of what anyone should do.

Radiology was closed Christmas Eve (Friday) so I have three days of no treatments. The last TWO are Monday and Tuesday. Good timing, as I have blistering under my arm (node removal area) and under my boob (chafing.) I am still applying lavender oil and aloe plant aloe twice a day, and wearing the barely there sports bra. I am really pleased at how little skin is burned. Really pleased, and it is so temporary. As you can imagine, I didn't feel like dressing fancy for Christmas, this is a relaxed Christmas for our family.

Christmas Eve we went out to Del Friscos, a local steakhouse. Delicious steak and shrimp and onion rings and Mandarin Cake, high energy atmosphere. A hit with all. We brought a gift for Mack, Tray and Corey to open up at the table. Yes, we had ALL THE KIDS here with us this Christmas, there's the best gift of all. With dessert they opened up their boxes, which each held a Santa Hat. Inside the hats were tickets to the Orlando Magic basketball game at 2:30 Christmas afternoon. They were so surprised and shocked and thrilled. This is hard to do for twenty five to thirty year old kids, but it worked! Did they suspect that this was really a gift to me, of four hours of nap time Christmas afternoon? HA!

Christmas Eve service is magical. Best part, everyone holding their candle aloft, lit from one candle up front, singing Silent Night. Good thought, as we extinguished our candles the pastor told us May the light of God in your hearts continue burning, and may that light shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father in heaven. (Matthew 5).


Light and love.  That pretty much sums Christmas up.


Christmas morning we picked up Pop-Pop, ate some breakfast, opened gifts. How fun it that? Everyone thinking about the other. Stories behind many.  The family left for Magic game, I plopped on the sofa, exhausted. That profound tired. 

Watched EAT LOVE PRAY. I started crying when she was in India. I remember now the moment, Julia Roberts is on the roof with the Texan. He has just told her his story, and he walks off. She was replaying her wedding dance in her mind. Instead of the song they chose together, her husband had them play Celebrate Good Times, and he danced around her. Hmmm. Indicative of their (failed) marriage, he changed with the wind, and didn't consider her needs. She felt invisible, morphed into him. At that moment in the movie, on the roof in India, she is forgiving him. And working on forgiving herself. The Texan says, Do the work, forgive yourself.

Forgive yourself. This is amazingly more difficult to do than you think.
Voices, noise, dogs running in circles, doors shutting. They are home.  I'm up now. Couldn't put on anything fancy, just cotton pants and stretchy shirt. Black stretchy shirt, every woman's secret item. The best sporting event she's ever attended, says Tray.  Turn on Christmas carols, five CD's all set to go. Turkey is in the top oven, stuffing in the bottom one. Just made gravy, with thyme and white wine. Mack remembers T-shirt that said Homonyms are a reel waist of thyme.  Salad is organized. Purchased a mocha Buche de Noel from great French bakery in town, The Croissant Gourmet. That's all the prep I did.  Put out the cheese ball (a gift) and crackers. 

The M's arrive, friends from college thirty two years ago who now live in town.  How cool is that? They brought vegetables and appetizers and rolls. And energy. Two of their kids are in college, so kids and adults are all chatting, in the kitchen. They set the table, bring in chairs, put in the leaf because I miscounted.  Oops! 


Last Christmas we had twenty two, because I wanted to have love and energy so I wouldn't miss Tray and Mack so much. They are married and I know we have to share them with her family. I know that.  Anyway, we had every bring one thing last year to share at dinner that reflected Christmas, such as poem, song, verses. 



This year, thanks to a Tuesday lunch discussion, we all opted for a different route. Everyone was to present a word, ONE WORD, that to them was the word for the coming year. Leaning towards an adjective, but not necessary. Would have been interesting had anyone chosen an article or a preposition. HA! Oh my goodness, it was so cool. I truly thank everyone at the table for this. A new Christmas tradition. Are you wondering what they are? 


Mack - EDUCATIONAL. set on path for higher degree, wife chosen new field. 
S - CHERISH. junior in college, knows this time and relationships are precious.
B - ADVENTURE. year of newness, new places, new structure, new events. zest for stretching. 
A - REALITY. senior in college, next chapter in life, open arms for where, what, who God will bring.
Mike - NORMALCY. as in Calvin Coolidge's "Return to" after WWI. proactive not reactive.
Corey - GENESIS. new beginnings for whole family. he's choosing new field.
Tray - CARING. for husband, in career, for family. 
C - EFFORT. in school, in life, in faith. a chance to step it up. 
C - EVOLUTION. adapting to life events, for the better. redirection.
Doug - CLAIRE. remembering the love of his life.
Sara - VIBRANT. full of life and light and love and health, spilling out on others. 


Looking back on the two days of Christmas, sharing these words at the dinner table was my favorite moment. A moment of hope and future, and a moment of love for each other. Thank you dear hearts.

Think, what was your favorite moment of this Christmas?

Random lessons from my IPAD

Over the past nine months I have written on my IPAD notebook lessons I learned at that given moment. Here they are, in order of being written...

1. Every one has some part of their heart that is fragile, not just people with cancer. Everyone is fighting some battle. Be encouraging to everyone.

2. The saying isn't 'God never gives you more than you can handle.'

        It is 'God can handle anything you have.' and He always wins.

3. Choose joy.

4. Do not let the fear horses out of the stable.

5. Jesus will provide for all your needs, even the ones You don't realize you have.

6. It is okay to take care yourself.

7. I need a community.

Figure out a way, your way, to stay close to Jesus. To stay connected to God. When Mom died, M said I glowed. And I felt amazingly peaceful. B said she never felt more alive than when she was going through chemo. Jesus is right here, He is as real as a rock. He is as solid as the chair i am sitting on. So are the prayers of friends. He is abiding in me. I don't want this part to change! This is why some people go to mass every day, to stay connected. I know prayer and bible reading time gets shoved smaller and becomes non existent when I am healthy. I don't want that to happen ever again. God will show me the way.

Remember to thank Jesus for his healing every day, from my toes on up, healing by the blood of the lamb who was slain for me. Healing by the Grace of God.

Don't shy away from people offering you gifts, kind words, opening up to you.

Never refuse a cup of hot tea, especially if it is peppermint.

Heal me God that I might do your will, to your glory, for the rest of my life. From Fr Jim Holbeck sermon online.

Each day, even during chemo and radiation, will be a beautiful day!

Trust God will tell me every step of the way.

I need Jesus.

Busy isn't the goal. If you don't want to be too busy, you won't be. It is your choice. You have a choice.

God will be there in my future. Don't fear it.

Don't let that sun set on your anger. Forgive. Forgive completely, without reservations.

Apologize. As far as is possible, be at peace with everyone. Love them. Pray for them.

Meditate every day.

Choose who you spend your time with. Choose carefully, for you will become like them.

Hang up the superwoman cape. I can't do everything.

Choose to do good. If you know something is wrong, just DON"T DO IT. Don't be tempted, don't rationalize. If you dance too close to the fire, you will get burned at some point. Believe me, doing the right thing and loving unconditionally is far more wild and crazy and  fun than choosing the shadows.

Search for people, places, things and events to nourish your soul. It's the only part of you that is eternal.

Take the time to love yourself, so that then, from the overflow, you can spill out love on others.

Live with integrity. What is integrity? Keep your promises. Speak truth. Admit mistakes right away.

Live transparently.

Seek a relationship with God with your whole heart.  Being in a community of Christians makes it a lot easier. We are meant to live in community.

Religion is man-made. When you hear something religious, just make sure it holds up under the light of  "God is Love."

You have time to do everything that is important to you. Once in awhile, do a self-check and see where you spend most your time, what is important to you.

People who love generously will always feel loved, at some point.

Don't repeatedly tell God your same problems or worries. Tell them to him once or a few times, then live trusting and thanking Him for his answer, even before you see it.

Do not be afraid of darkness. In it you will find your light, and your light will be clearer than ever.

I am one grain of sand on the beach.

Being still is the most exciting part of my day.

Keep your focus on God. All day long.

Sent from my iPad 

December 22, 2001

Wednesday nine years ago my mother died. God gave me two gifts that night, one I asked for specifically and one I never ever could have even imagined, that was and will always be one of the most close-to-heaven moments ever. Let me tell you how it all happened.

Mom and I were close, very close. We laughed , we argued, we planned, we figured things out. Spent a lot of time together.  Discussed every detail of my life, the kids, Mike, and her and Dad. Mom was one of those people who are like glue and magnets. She knew how to engage people and knit them together in a substantial way like glue, and people were drawn to her warmth like iron to a magnet. The last five years of her life she was in a wheelchair, her body failing her from forty years of insulin-dependent diabetes. She was overweight, partially blind from macular degeneration. She was on oxygen twenty four hours a day, due to chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. Despite all this,  she was full of life.

College graduation, Mike and I with my parents

I got a phone call from Dad on December second,  to come right away.  Mom had fainted and fallen, and didn't want him to call 911. I was close by, and got there in about ten minutes. Mom had gotten herself back into bed and was lying on her right side. I lay next to her, she was crying. She said, Sara don't call the ambulance. I just want to die. I am ready. Please just let me die.  Oh no Mom, I said. Let's get the ambulance, have them take you right to the Winter Park Hospital and let's see what happened, why you fell.

So we did and they came. For eighteen days in Winter Park Hospital we were hopeful. They tested Mom all around, she was walking a few steps with her walker, she was breathing better. She had a private room, we had a CD player with Christmas Carols going, we read from the Bible, from the Episcopal Prayer Book. So hopeful.

The morning of December twentieth, I walked into her room to see two nurses holding her up in bed, trying to get her sit up. She couldn't hold her head up, kept slouching her back, couldn't talk. It was as if she were continually almost waking up, then right away falling asleep. I told them to lie her back on the bed. They did. I called her doctors and Dr. W arrived within the hour. Her kidneys had shut down, her heart rate and blood pressure were below normal, her oxygen level was terribly low, her body was failing.

Thankfully we have fantastic General Practitioners who are willing to talk honestly.  And pray with you. They explained to us what was happening to Mom's body.  They would do their best to keep her comfortable throughout her dying. He had the IV and monitors disconnected. Medicines discontinued. The nurses came in every three hours to check Mom's pulse, that is it. And morphine if she ever grimaced or groaned as if in pain.

I stayed in the chair next to her that day. And the next. And the next. She lay there not moving. I massaged
moisture cream onto her feet and legs. I moistened her lips with water and lip goop. I prayed, sang, read to her. I talked to her. I told her it was okay to die.

The afternoon of December twenty second, Mom hadn't moved or spoken or opened her eyes in two days. I was sitting in my brown vinyl reclining chair next to her hospital bed. Mom was lying on her side, with her back to me. I heard her say, Sara, and then she giggled. Two days she hadn't moved to spoken a word. I shot up, leaned over her and said, What is it Mom?

She said, in a clear strong voice, Oh Sara the puppies, don't you love the puppies? So many puppies. Yes, I said. I love them.  Her eyes were closed, she was gripping my hand in hers.

She went on, smiling and talking with animation, And the daisies. So many daisies. In the meadow, so beautiful. Daisies all around me. I can pick them. Aren't they beautiful, Sara?

Oh, they are beautiful Mom. Just beautiful.

And there's Uncle Charlie. Giggle - giggle. Uncle Charlie.

Who's Uncle Charlie, I ask. No answer.

Sara, You have been the best daughter I could ever have had. I am so happy.

Oh Mom, you have been the best mom.  I love you so much.

Yes I know.

Silence.

Mom, what do you see now?

Daisies, daisies. Uncle Charlie is holding out his arms to me. He wants me to go with him. I love you.

Mom, go. It's okay. I love you.

Then she stopped talking. Didn't move. Didn't say another word. This was late in the afternoon of December twenty second. I was speechless. I had heard that she felt my love. Through all my years with Mom, the mistakes I made, anything I had done that had hurt her, she forgave me. She knew I loved her. Oh, thank you Lord for these words. And she was happy, dying was a happy ending for her. I knew what the puppies and daisies meant, but not Uncle Charlie.

Puppies. Mom's father's job was raising, showing and judging Golden Retrievers and Irish Setters. They had a six run Puppy Kennel at Tercor Kennels. It was like heaven in there. You would step into the puppy box and six to ten puppies would crawl all over you, licking and nudging and tumbling. I can even smell their warm smell now. Cuddly and cozy. Unconditional love.

Daisies. Mom's favorite flower. White with yellow centers. Her childhood home had a meadow beyond the kennels.  In summer it was filled with wild daisies. Magical. The brook beyond, and past that the blueberries and asparagus patch. Joy as of a child.

Uncle Charlie. I asked Mom's sister who he was. He was their first relative to die, their mother's brother. My aunt remembered the funeral, the reception afterward at the house. My Mom saw her uncle reaching for her. Being carried by family. Family.

What a gift for me to hear. That Mom loved me, knew I loved her. That Mom wasn't afraid of death, in fact she giggled and was joyful. What a gift from God.

By 10 PM that evening, I was exhausted. I had been sleeping in the brown vinyl recliner for two nights, and had woken up every three hours anyway when the nurses come in. I craved a good night's sleep. So I prayed:  Dear Lord, I know this sounds unusual, but you will understand. Could you keep Mom alive until tomorrow morning, or let her die right now? I am really tired and would appreciate a good night's sleep. I find it hard to believe I really prayed that, but I did.  She died within the hour. Another gift.

Do you remember your thoughts the moment your mother died? I felt as if I were a boat and my anchor had been cut off. I was happy for her, to no longer be contained in flesh that failed her. Sadness for me missing her. Thinking of her feelings, I pictured her dancing, with a body that would let her move and be light and energetic. So I was so thankful for her she could now be free.

I hugged her and felt the warmth leave her flesh. I wanted one last hug. Mike and Dad came to her bedside with me. The nurse that night, who didn't work this hospital but had been scheduled this shift, was the mom of one of Mike's ex-little leaguers. So good to have her voice, which was familiar, telling me there was no pulse.

We drove home, I piled into cool sheets. It felt like I was lying down in a cloud. I fell right asleep, and I think I slept for two days.

What a gift, to hear Mom's words. Knowing she was happy, happy with me and happy to be moving on to heaven. Surrounded by love and beauty and family members.

I grieved Mom's death for weeks. The ache and tears receded over time. At random moments I miss her still. I will break out in tears wishing I could lean towards her and tell her something that's on my heart. Then she would look at me, put her arm around me, and talk with me about it. She didn't have all the answers, but she certainly would walk through it with me, whatever it was and however long it took.

I have thought, I am really glad  for Mom that she is watching my breast cancer healing from heaven, where she sees the happy ending. When you know there is a happy ending, it makes the in between tough days a lot easier to take.

Everyone's life has a happy ending. That's my prayer.

1 Cor 13 for Christmas

So many are right now going through tough times, surgery or financial tightness or loosing loved ones, or the realization that this body won't last forever. I think we all get the meaning of this re-written familiar passage. When I read it, I saw she put into words what I think, but she says it so much better than I...

 

1 Corinthians 13 ... Christmas Style By Sharon Jaynes

 If I decorate my house perfectly with lovely plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights, and shiny glass balls, but do not show love to my family – I’m just another decorator.  If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies, preparing gourmet meals, and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime, but do not show love to my family – I’m just another cook.

If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home, and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my family – it profits me nothing.  If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes, attend a myriad of holiday parties, and sing in the choir’s cantata but do not focus on Christ, I have missed the point.

 Love stops the cooking to hug the child.  Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband.  Love is kind, though harried and tired.  Love doesn’t envy another home that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens.  Love doesn’t yell at the kids to get out of your way.  Love doesn’t give only to those who are able to give in return, but rejoices in giving to those who can’t.

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, and endures all things.

Love never fails.

Video games will break; pearl necklaces will be lost; golf clubs will rust.  But giving the gift of love will endure.

Sharpies Again

Thursday morning I woke up, couldn't lift my head off the pillow. You have probably had this happen, the massage guy called it a "stinger". It is a mad inflamed muscle that is pinching a nerve, and it is temporary. Happened while I was sleeping, just turned the wrong way during the night I guess. It only hurts when you move a certain way. But OH MAMMA it hurts when you do move a certain way. Mine was from the spine around the left central shoulder blade and up into my neck to behind my ear. The trapezius muscle.

This was the day of the BOOST calibration, where I need to lie still with my arms stretched out over my head for, oh, forty five minutes, not the normal ten to fifteen. My arms usually fall asleep in the ten minutes. I just couldn't picture longer today. Phooey, but oh well. I was really upset for the first five minutes I felt this pain. I thought, oh my what if I can't have the BOOST today? Then I realized, it will all work out. God knows how to handle this, and I need to take His direction. Trust Him to heal this, and to guide me what to do.

I asked Corey to drive me, as driving wasn't going to happen.  His last final was Monday, so he is available. Took a hot shower, then Advil. By 9:30 I was ready to brave it. And it was fine. The new position is fine, similar to the first twenty five treatments as I am lying down on  my back, arms stretched as flat as I can do it over my head. My head is turned to the right, which was the way I COULD turn my head. It all worked out.

The new BOOST radiations are four treatments each visit, twenty four to twenty nine seconds each. They still do two x-rays when I first lie down, the doctor looks at them and they shift the table slightly each time to get the target accurate ( called IMRT). Now the Trilogy machine does four stops in its orbit from above my right shoulder to below my left shoulder. I lay still and listen to the Christmas Carols.

Guess how they marked me for this BOOST calibration. Out came the Sharpies again. Am I the only one that finds this ironic? Multi-million dollar Trilogy machine, highly paid doctor and technicians, and they use Sharpies to make three X's and two lines so they can line me up the same way each BOOST treatment. They said they usually tattoo these also, but they thought I could be careful enough to not wash or scrub these Sharpie marks. OH YES, because those tattoos hurt, and one of the X's is right on the nipple. Yee - ow!

Only six more to go, WHO-HOO. I'm getting more sunburned and swollen. No bra, couldn't even think of it. Have my Barely There's and loose fitting shirts. By Friday night, I am tired.

Saturday I woke up, felt like starting a little Christmas Cookie magic, and was exhausted after an hour. EXHAUSTED.

I slept all afternoon. 

So we skipped the Christmas party Saturday night, which was really frustrating as I LOVE going to this one.  I know so many of the people.  There's always next year.

I am able to feel energetic for a few hours at a time, then I crash. Then energetic again. And crash. I don't seem to have any half speed about me. That might be my personality.

Today I took Dad to lunch and Christmas shopping, for things for him to give the folks on his list. He's a jolly seventy nine years old, has had a couple of health issues but keeps on going. Strokes have slowed his mental acuity. He still has a lively sense of humor. He drinks milk at every meal. Maybe that's the secret?

I have been so so lucky to not get sick during radiation treatment. My white blood cells have been below normal since the second week. I have tried tried tried to avoid crowds, and wash my hands constantly. THANK YOU Lord that I am healthy, just tired and sunburned.

The neck muscle is just a little sore now, the pain has diminished continually since Thursday morning. And my other muscle aches that were plaguing me for the past two months have diminished continually also.

I have been resting when my body tells me. Drinking lemon juice in water daily (one lemon's worth per day), yogurt every day, yoga two to three times a week (mainly stretching, we are just starting out), and acupuncture every two weeks. Meditation every afternoon. Love that.

I am trying to modulate my expectations of Christmas this year. All our kids (two sons and daughter in law) will be here for ten days, which is the DREAM of my DREAMS. I want to be healthy and be able to pace my self so I can enjoy times together, and then come and rest. That's the hard part, I don't want to leave the fun or neglect a chore to take a nap. I am a nut about Christmas.

SO this Christmas, more than ever, let me remember what Christmas is really all about. Love.
More than Valentines Day could ever be, Christmas starts and ends in LOVE.

I'll buy Christmas Dinner dessert and I'll skip the party, so I be still and absorb God's love.
May it spill over to those around me.

Hamster

I'm in my childhood home, in the Williamsburg gray green front hallway. Moravian star light fixture hanging from the center ceiling, glass doors on either side of the hall going into the dining room and living room respectively, staircase ahead. Traditional Colonial center-hallway home.

Mom walks out from the kitchen carrying an empty glass Mason jar. I am my age right now.  Mom is young and healthy and energetic, maybe 20 years old. Wearing madras shorts and a white button down shirt with the tails tied in the front at her waist, you know the 1950's look?

She says, Come here. You'll be able to do this.

I follow her into the kitchen. She unscrews the metal top from the glass jar.  She bends down to open a bottom cabinet, yellow wood cabinets, reaches the glass jar tentatively way back into the shelves. Then she jumps up. Out from the cabinet scurries a tiny hamster. It darts across the green wooden floor of the kitchen. I easily stoop down, snatch it up in my right hand. I pop it into the glass jar in Mom's hand and she screws on the lid.

I say, It can't breathe. She looks at me. I get a pen, poke a hole in the top metal lid, like we used to do for fireflies in glass jars. The little hamster is peering up at me through the hole I poked. It's not sad, or happy, just surprised. Not agitated. Just looking at me.

I hand the jar back to Mom. I ask, what are you going to do with him?

Mom replies, I'll take him away and let him go.

==================
I wake up. I make myself repeat this dream. I see the kitchen and the cabinet so clearly. Then I picture me stepping into our front hallway and the whole event unfolds again.

Now, the interesting thing is, two nights ago for the first time since Mom died 9 years ago, I talked to Mom. This isn't creepy, she didn't answer back and I didn't expect her to.

I was processing the time post-treatment. How do I not get afraid cancer has returned each time I feel a bump or ache?  So I was thinking about this, and about Mom who always prayed for me. So I told her, I knew you are delightfully happy in heaven, and I am so looking forward to being with you there, but not yet. I told her, You are close up there to God. Go tell Him I want to live down here awhile longer.

I see why I would have a dream about Mom the next night. She was on my mind, as my advocate.  Remember, dreams aren't really about the person or the thing as much as they your subconscious processing your emotions about what they represent.

Now the hamster? Hmmm. To me, when I think hamster, I think of that wheel. Oh yes, the wheel where they run and run and run, and get nowhere. Our lives sometimes, busy doing the thing we think is important, but it really is just the thing that is staring us in the face at the moment and so we jump aboard and off we go. Busy, busy. Getting nowhere.

Getting stressed out that we are getting nowhere. HA!

So, to me, this dream is saying I am able and capable to take all the things that have occupied me unfulfillingly, and bottle them up and let them go. The part of me that is my advocate tells me I can do this, and it's not a big deal. There isn't a fight, or a battle. Simply a matter of removing.

God will show me who and what and where is best in my life.

For my good.

I can depend on God to guide me in the paths of righteousness.

He will.

And when I need restoring, He will restore.

Thinking about this more, I have learned about myself that I need affirmation from others. I love being part of a team effort. I also love helping others and sometimes being alone. It is all a balance. And all are part of a healthy me.

I feel so much more peace after this dream. Thank you. 

A Ping Pong Ball

Always learning.

I asked the oncologist when I saw him two weeks ago, Who tells me when I can get the port out of my arm and, What follow-up tests do you do to make sure we got all the cancer? (When the port was put in, I was told it would come out after they did tests, after radiation, to make sure they didn't need to do more chemo.)

Dr M answered that I was in the care of the radiology oncologist. He would order any follow up tests and he would tell me when to call the surgeon to have the port removed. And he handed me a script for Arimidex, told me to start taking this when I am done with radiation. And he wanted to see me in April, four months.

So I asked the radiology oncologist Monday (I meet with him after treatment every Monday) what tests was he planning to do to make sure all is finished, and when could I get the port removal scheduled for? His response, Dr M would order any tests to make sure the chemo and radiation have done their jobs. (Makes sense to me) And Dr M tells you when to take out the port, we have never used it, it isn't anything to do with us. (Makes sense to me)

So I call Dr M. His assistant calls back (it is never him, always the assistant, which makes sense to me.)  She says to schedule the port removal for anytime after radiation is finished.  Dr M doesn't think I need any further tests scheduled. He says, statistically the chemo destroyed any cancer cells that would have spread. The radiation has destroyed any cancer cells left in the breast or node area. Further tests would show nothing. Makes sense to me.

I called the surgeon's office, they need written permission from Dr M to remove the port, he ordered it. Makes sense to me.

A ping pong ball.  I feel like a ping pong ball.

No one wants to take responsibility for the follow up.  What they all say makes sense. What could possibly be left in my body after all this?

It makes intellectual sense, What about my emotional But What Ifs?

Elementary concept in instilling confidence, don't change you mind mid-stream on decisions. Or if you do, please explain why. I got no explanation.

So what am I learning? To not worry. Not be anxious.  Leave this up to God, He does the best scans ever.  Lift this up to God, release it like a dove flying out of my hand.

With prayer and thanksgiving.

With thanks that I am here right now and He loves me and is guiding me down the path.

For the rest of my life I will be hearing of someone who does PET scans every year, gets MRI's every six months. I will feel a bump on my shin or get tired for two days straight and I will think, Tumor on my bone or leukemia. I will hear of someone dying of cancer, and not want to think about it.

Be grateful.
Have faith this worked.
That I am healed.
That this was God's path, He directed it all.

Faith is knowing something when your senses don't perceive it.

Have faith sister.

Profound Tired

I don't want to complain, because this is

no where

no way

no how

anything like the physical onslaught of chemo.

But I am tired, and I am tired of feeling this unusual tired. Profound tired.

Being two-thirds through radiation is not like being two-thirds getting a pedicure. I can be very impatient in pedicures. When you have five things on your list to hit after this pedicure is finished, all before swooping into your garage like a bat outta hell carrying armloads of packages at once so you don't have to make two trips to the garage. And why is it MY pedicurist has to answer the phone today? Usually this takes forty five minutes and I have already been in this chair forty minutes and she doesn't even have the cuticles done yet and I need to go...

Did I really ever have those internal conversations? Yes, and I will again.  I will try to stop myself and not, but, well, I'm not perfect. You all know that by now!

Getting back to radiation. Two thirds of the way through is fantastic. Then I look up and out. The entire world it seems to me is having a blast. Two weeks before Christmas, decorations are up (they've been up at the stores since Halloween). Bells are ringing (Salvation Army), Christmas carols are playing. My IPAD has three new playlists - 2010ChristQUIET, 2010ChristLENNOX, 2010Christ. The first is quiet peaceful carols, the second is Annie Lennox's new Christmas Cornucopia album, and the third is my compilation of energetic Christmas music (for cooking, walking, energizing.) It is beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

The entire world is out there, laughing and hugging and telling stories. I want to be with them, but I am profoundly tired.

Friday I canceled a festive mall walk after radiation because I was achy and tired. Radiation was long, as the Trilogy machine broke down again (second time), so they moved me to another machine but it took time to recalibrate. I was really grateful they moved my machine, not skipping a day. They canceled most of the other patients. THANK YOU LORD for keeping me on schedule!
After radiation I called Dad, who sounded blue. He sounded blue Thursday too. I think someone needs a little Christmas cheer! He lives in an apartment in an adult community. I warned him I was tired and not very talkative, which is fine with him. So I picked him up, we went to Panera in downtown Winter Park. Saw some festive Christmas decorations, had a nice lunch of soup and sandwich. Then stopped off and bought him a new bedspread. Okay, I can hear you now telling me, You can't buy happiness. I know, I know. But a little spiffing up of your surroundings does help get you a smile or two.

Slept all afternoon. Mike came home, I canceled out on the dinner party we were going to. I just couldn't do it. Feels like I am swimming through water when I move, slow motion. Shoulders and elbows and hands ache. I still think it is my tendons.  Feet are okay (YEAH!) I want to close my eyes, but I don't fall asleep. It's not a sleepy tired, it's a "my body is not functioning up to speed" tired, not feeling just right, and bored. Mind isn't tired. What to eat?  Frozen leftovers. Crucial to have at Christmas time, freezer filled with possibilities. Especially this year.

Saturday started out good, had lunch with Dad and Mike at our favorite Jason's Deli. Went there weekly through chemos, fuzzy memories, good food. No corn syrup. Relaxing afternoon writing the tags for all the family's Christmas gifts. All done. All wrapped (last week) and tagged and all are under the tree. Those to be mailed are mailed. Rested, then got all dressed up for the two parties Saturday night. Only made it to the first one... DARN! I even put on mascara, first time since June; it highlighted that I don't have many eyelashes left. But the ones I had were nice and black!

I wanted to wear a new black dress, but couldn't even imagine putting shapewear over my body. The "bra" I am wearing is a Barely There no wire, no cups, no support but comfortable. Allows for total movement of lymph, and that is good.. The left breast is swollen, but not as much as during chemo. Feels thoroughly uncomfortable to put on a regular bras, even in a cup size larger. So I am wearing this Barely There sports type bra, like a camisole in structure. All one piece. Soft, comfortable. It will work for now.

I am putting on lavender oil and the liquid from two inches of aloe plant every morning and night. My left breast is red, but not overly stinging.  Sunburn. The underarm area is reddish-tan. Uncomfortable but not so bad. So I wore the looser velvet top and pants, with good jewelry. Dazzle them with diamonds and they won't notice the clothing or the wig.

We went next door to the first party. Winter Park held a Boat Parade, the theme of this party. We chatted with friends, went outside to view the flotilla. I had one glass of wine, and nibbled on some party food. We came home after an hour, to put up the feet for a moment and venture out to the next Christmas fete.

I sat on the sofa, my head was spinning.  It was so much noise and activity. I started to shiver. It was weird, I wasn't cold. Just shivering every ten minutes or so. Went and took two Advil, laid on the sofa. Still shivering. A little upset stomach. Feet and hands and arms feeling swollen. This is how you feel tired, like your body just doesn't want to function at normal speed. After fifteen minutes, I knew I couldn't get up and go anywhere. Which is really poopy because I was all dressed up, and really looking forward to seeing friends. Oh so looking forward to it!

Went upstairs, put on the jammies and bathrobe. Rested on the upstairs sofa. Came down, opened the fridge. What to have for dinner. Nothing looked good. I saw the Ricotta Cheese. AHA, how about Ricotta Lemon Pancakes. Easy, light, fast. I also could have gone with an omelette but Mike doesn't like them and I am not making two different dinners in one night. Tonight or ever. This is a recipe from the San Francisco Four Seasons, where Mike's parents had an apartment. Watched The Grown Ups, a funny movie. Good choice Mike.

Isn't it ironic, just at a point where you want support from friends, and laughter, you are so tired, you have to stay home. On the other hand, as my white blood count is low staying home might have saved me from germs. If I had pushed myself and gone to Party Number Deux last night, I might be sniffling or coughing this morning.

I am thinking of how to work out the Christmas schedule so we have all the important activities as a family (church, dinner, etc) and I also get enough rest. I know if I push and get too tired, I will not enjoy Christmas and am more likely to get anxious and weepy. Who needs that?
Christmas is about the gift God gave us so that we can live every moment in God's presence.
He takes us through seasons in our lives.
This is my season to Be Still.
Okay, I get it...

==============================

Ricotta Lemon Pancakes - for 4 people.

Mix these together:
1 cup flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 tsp baking powder
zest of  half a lemon
1 cup ricotta cheese
6 egg yolks
salt

Fold in:
6 whipped egg whites

Cook on griddle, make about 3" in diameter.
These are very delicate. And sweet. We ate with maple syrup.  Why not?

Freeze the onions, peppers and sausage

Today I have nothing outside the house until 11:30. I have an endocrinologist appointment then, and afterward the longer radiation appointment where they calibrate for the last eight treatments, called the BOOST.  They are more concentrated radiation, focused right on the spot where the tumor was in my breast. Don't know if they target the node which had a tumor, I will ask.

I am in the alternate bra stage, barely there bra. A light sunburn, the most uncomfortable is the skin underneath the breast where the bra hits, and the armpit where the bra hits. But just uncomfortable. And I am positive the achy and tendon soreness is getting better. It doesn't wake me up in the night aching, YEAH!!! What is a better gift than a good night's sleep.

So I have been given ninety minutes this morning. WHO-EEE!

May I make a comment on our lives, December 9th, 2010.

We are all TOO BUSY! Which makes us all STRESSED OUT!

You know it, and knowing you are juggling too many balls in the air at once adds to your STRESS. Thinking about what to say to who, about who needs what, when can you go there to get that, what to cook, what to buy, what to do!

At this age in life (50 to 60 ish) we all acknowledge we want to:
relax more
focus on friends and family
be present in the moment
laugh more
be aware of our own voice
take appropriate care of our own bodies
deepen our faith in God and our relationship with Jesus

We are beyond having busy-ness be a badge of courage, I think. We know that our value as a person depends not on what we do, but on who we are in our hearts, loved always.

Here's how I look at it. We  know where we want to be going. We can picture the person we want to be. We step on the path. Then we get distracted.

If you could see me now, you would see that I have my hand raised, yes I am the first one in line here, I get distracted., I have good intentions and I think I am pretty good at leaning on God in a crisis. But what trips me up is the day to day focus.

I LET myself get distracted. Do you think sometimes I avoid issues in my life by keeping busy? YES I know I do that.

Silly human being, say those sheep.

Getting cancer can be a redirection of your life journey, says Bernie Siegel. I agree with him. Or any disease or big event. Or you could choose to redirect your life journey just because you think about it and choose too.  MUCH easier than getting cancer now, isn't it?

Remember the verse that came to mind when I sat in the radiologist's parking lot back in April, preparing to go in to hear my biopsy results, when I prayed for something from God to hold on to through this whole journey?

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

From that, flows everything.

Psalm 23: He is my shepherd, restores my soul, guides me down the path.  Is with me, comforts me, nurtures me, I dwell in his house.

I don't want anyone reading this to feel WORSE about those To Do Lists. Not everything everyday makes us happy. At dinner last week I told Mike and Corey that I wanted to devote one solid day a week again to the college summer baseball league. And each May through August it would be much more. Corey asked, does that make you happy? Good question. Great question. It is an optional thing, as I volunteer. I said, no, it doesn't make me happy, but it makes me feel fulfilled.

So yes, every day I have tried to do one thing towards Christmas. It looks like a huge evergreen tree of tasks each December, so I really think, ask God, set my priorities.  Little by little the Christmas items are happy snowflakes in my life. I don't roast my own turkey, I buy one cooked at Whole Foods, as I don't want the stress of killing my family on Christmas Day with undercooked poultry. For the stuffing, I will saute the onions and peppers and sausage this week and freeze them, and I bought a jar of roasted chestnuts instead of roasting them myself.

These are little shortcuts, but they leave me time to bake Christmas cookies, watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, mall walk, get radiation, write funny tags for the family's Christmas gifts, visit my Dad, and visit friends.

I wish all of you a really joyful time preparing for Christmas. Your gifts to me will be hugs and laughter.