Interesting conversations

This idea of blaming cancer victims for their cancer is more pervasive than I thought. Husband has had several discussions at Cancer Treatment Centers with other patients who, when they went to their homeopath or chiropractor or clergy got blamed for their illness. One woman was even told that her negative feelings toward her mother festered and she let them and,therefore, she gave herself breast cancer. Up to that point all she knew was her mother was the most positive influence in her life. What in the world is she supposed to DO with this new information? Another was told that seeking treatment as she was was WrongWrongWrong so she's, apparently extra bad and extra guilty. Does the healthcare provider who claimed this position have any idea what she is facing without him adding to it with his cheap two cents? Probably not. Bottom line as far as I can tell is, yes, we are responsible for what we put into our bodies and some of our experience including our ability to forgive and find joy, but, for pity's sake, be kind. Doesn't the Hippocratic oath say something about "First, do no harm"?!

Quietly making noise

I find that after this last year I am less inclined to talk. I don' t know if it's acquiring a greater comfort with being quiet or having quiet or it's just that I think what I have to say is less important. It's just mostly my opinion and I made it all up.   Alot of stuff is less important.  What I think; what everyone else thinks of me, certainly. I find myself wearing things I would not have earlier like hats and extravagant fashion. Fun stuff that gloriously has no impact on anything, but adds a bit of joy to my heart and serendipity to the world. (Interestingly enough, I tend to receive loads of compliments when I do step out.) So, I stay quieter and am learning to be still so I hear better... Hear people and, hopefully, hear Him better, too.


What I will talk about is that there is a short list of priceless things life affords us. Most of the rest is, as He said, vanity.

Family. Oh, Lord how gracious you are to give us this abundance.  The birth kind of family as well as the chosen family, even the season of life family- those that come and add to us and then move on .  Love them all and be grateful.

Forgive. No qualifications. You can wreck your mood, your day, your entire life carrying around the burden of unforgiveness. Consider that an apology goes a long way expressed with love and take a shot at letting go of the burden. It's too heavy and useless to keep honoring it by letting it direct your path, if you can move under its weight at all.  Including forgiving yourself. How sad are those that torture themselves and deny themselves happiness mired in self loathing and dragged down by their tired unforgiving hearts.

This means, to me, apologizing to yourself AND graciously and tenderly accepting the apology, too. Don't think there's anything to apologize to yourself for, that it's a silly notion? Try asking yourself. You might be surprised at what comes up. 

Beauty--- especially the kind that's free. Everything that calms your mind or tickles your fancy. Sites that somehow give you hope and reaffirm that God had a plan for us to be happy. I know, without reservation, that beauty feeds my soul.  Actively looking for it is an art, but a skill well worth developing.

Silliness. This is in drastically short supply. Silliness, again, this is my opinion, should be one of the food groups necessary for healthy long life.

I imagine if I thought harder I could come up with more, I could certainly be content with what's here.

Sorry I promised this and forgot to post it... Painkillers have their drawbacks...

I had an interesting request via email, recently... Seems people read the blog I started during cancer treatment and want more. Kind of neat as I fancy my thoughts readable. ...but surprised that they are memorable, too! This was just the encouragement that I needed to introduce a new thought:

People who pontificate on the "why" of cancer might consider the impact of their words on those who have had the misfortune of suffering cancer. I use the word "misfortune" very purposefully. I did not earn my cancer. I was not evil. I did not maintain bad habits with food or inhalants or spend too much time swimming in a cesspool of carcinogens any more than my non-cancer expressing sisters. And, yet, I indeed ended up with one quite large tumor and a systemic involvement that made my chances of recovery dicey, statistically speaking.

Only God knows what knocked my health to the ground. For some reason (still waiting on that answer) I just got the opportunity to experience the misfortune of having a big dangerous growth invade my temple garden. Sometimes noxious invasive weeds take hold in a well-tended garden. Do you blame the garden? Can you totally place blame on the gardener? In previous postings (Godistakingcareofme.blogspot.com) I have claimed my right to health by listing all the health smart things I do. The good food and mind work and exercise and chiropractic and acupuncture, and abstenance from obvious no-no's. So, why DID I get cancer? And, frankly, who are you to contend that I got it from something I did or did not do?

I got insulted by this accusation at a seminar on health, for Pete's sake! How many people spend their weekends at seminars on health? Well, I do and, while at this one, I listened to a well respected doctor intimate, by his discourse, that if you did "X,Y, and Z" you wouldn't get cancer. That's what he said. He, therefore, was saying that I did not do "X,Y, and Z". I know I did. I was there eating those dark geen leafies and standing on my head. I seriously doubt that he set out to insult me. I certainly didn't expect to get insulted, but, there you are.

And here I am, suggesting to you that you might just consider that people who develop cancer didn't earn it. Actually, from my perspective, I feel as though I am serving time for a crime I didn't commit. I might also say that at sentencing I was given a specific penalty, but had the rug pulled out from under me when I was informed that time could be added on to my sentence -at random- or (and I mean this in the most literal sense) be given a death sentence later on. So, for future reference, I would prefer not to get kicked by an observer while I am down here trying to pick up my life and rebuild my burned out temple and make it beautiful and useful, again. God is taking care of me and I am hopeful and determined but, if you don't mind, have some consideration, please.

A letter to Howard from a friend

Hey Howard,

Great to hear from you. I think the last time we spoke was in Miami - I know we've both done a lot of living since then. I can't remember the last time I had a good cigar, but, whenever I do, I think fondly of you.

I knew that your wife was fighting cancer so, from one cancer husband to another, you have my sympathies. It's a hard slog and I wish you and your wife the best in dealing with it. It's very hard and very real. Thankfully, Elizabeth is also improving, although each checkup scan could always make things go horribly wrong (again). Through this, I've learned to be much more present than I ever was and I'm sure the experience has had a similar effect on you. Few things are as effective as the word "cancer" to remind you of how short your stay is on this little planet and that, perhaps, one should go about enjoying every last minute of it before being flung off.

The CONTINUING Adventures of Isabel

My favorite poet, Ogden Nash, wrote a great poem about Isabel and how she met and subdued an enormous bear, a pirate, and a witch. While I can highly recommend the original, I am very very partial to Claire's contribution to Isabel's continuing adventures:

Isabel came across an evil ball of cancer,
It was intrusive, it multiplied and it was quite a bad dancer.
The cancer was sickly, the cancer was greedy,
...The cancer had plans that were hostile and seedy.
I’ll take over your body! The cancer blustered,
I’ll make you fearful and your family flustered!
Isabel, Isabel, didn’t worry,
Isabel didn’t scream or scurry.
She took her vitamins and she talked to God a lot
And Isabel, effortlessly, reduced the cancer to snot.

I am having a good day. I'm having more and more of them. Still hurt. Still taking pain meds. AND I am driving and getting around and I am getting stronger. Even had lunch with my BFF, Carla, today. Last week I got to accompany my husband to Cozumel, Mexico to celebrate our 30th wedding anniversary and stay at the hotel where we honeymooned. Didn't even get wet. Slept. Ate. Watched water. It was excellent! Howard was wonderful to me and it was one of my favorite all-time vacations.

Waiting Game

I don't have anything to report about the ultrasound. No news is...? I did realize that I've left out the results of the pathology report they did of the tissues they removed. NO CANCER. Wow. I get to type "No cancer". You may find me repetitive, but, please understand, this is a joy and a hope and faith realized. God is Good. La, la, la No Cancer, No Cancer, la, la, la!

So, instead of test results, I have a story:
When I was in the hospital, the second day after surgery, it was determined that I should get up and walk around. I was ready to oblige and carefully maneuvered my feet to the floor, sat up, stood (a bit wobbly, but pretty sound), and with Claire and all my tubes and hoses attached, stepped away from the bed and stopped. I was about to join the unenviable club of people who flashed people while wearing a hospital gown! The nurse started to laugh and said something to the effect of, "Oh, people will start sticking dollars back there!" To which, Claire and I, simultaneously responded with, "No, we wouldn't do any of that for less than a 20!" Now, that's funny!

Everything Came Out Alright...

I suppose I've left this unwritten long enough, but I've been pritnear useless and somewhat "distracted" until just recently. I had surgery on August 4. Decided if I was on pain meds I might as well be on them for more than one issue (irradiated intestines and stomach were one, surgery the additional). I was fortunate to have one of the five top Oncological surgeons, Dr. Pierre Greeff, as my doctor. He gave me the prettiest smiley face scar you would ever want to see (horizontal, thank you) and laughed when my body started spitting out the staples. He was happy to see my body "rejecting" them as he put it, took the remaining 18 out, and just taped me shut. He'll tell you I didn't like him much at first, but I certainly adore him, now!

One big concern that was handled by pushing the date was that Claire and Holly could be here. Claire used a massive wad of her flex time and Holly, bless her heart, used her vacation time to come to Tulsa to meet my increasing need. Claire spent every night but one of the six sleeping on a pull out chair bed contraption while I was in hospital and I will always be in awe of her generosity and good-natured constant care for me. The nurses were in love with her, too, for the same reason, and allowed her free access to the Special Care Unit facilities, including the Sonic ice on steroids machine and the Oh So Fabulous heated blanket closet. (Claire and I both had fun with our nurses. CTCA picks winners.) Somehow, my daughter knew what I wanted before I wanted it and way before I asked for it. I'm not sure she slept more than 15 minutes at a time because, if I was awake, she was awake. She was such a God-send! She says I raised her right. She's an accelerated learner, I say. She would be the most incredible personal assistant. She'd be the most incredible anything-she-wants-to-be.

Miss Holly arrived the same day I was allowed to come home. That she used her only multi-day vacation in over a year to be with me will ALWAYS impress me. She gave up R and R for the "opportunity" to watch me in, probably, the worst, most unrelenting pain of my life. I had some trouble with my kidneys and had to go back and have tests done. The surgery was pretty extensive and there was a lot of additional scar tissue removed from surrounding organs so it's not a surprise there was extra pain. We think that time is all that's necessary, but I'll go back, soon, for another ultrasound to make sure the obstruction and the stasis has reconciled. I'm much improved, no doubt because Holly's hugs are healing and I am, as a direct result, healing. I just wish could have taken some of them on account...

Howard has been doing his best to fill in after the girls' departure. Not that he doesn't already have a full plate, but, he comes home when he can during the day and makes sure I eat whatever I want every night. I've been heavily into hamburgers (I pitch half the bun, of course) and Taco Bueno Muchacos and Indian food. I know! And McCalesters' pot roast potato. They are all comfort food, I suppose. Even when I couldn't manage anything else hot, I could eat a pot roast potato and I think it's because it is something like what my mother has made on a regular basis my whole life which, I guess, is the definition of comfort food. The Curry? I don't know what makes that comfort food but it just IS. And, yes, I'm allowing myself more foods, now. The compulsion to eat only certified healthy foods has abated, somewhat. I'm just following His lead.

A couple days ago while sitting on my bed, pretending I wasn't in pain, I had an epiphany. There I was, sitting on my bed, eating an organic peanut butter and jelly on Spelt english muffin, listening to my dog breathe and watching an actress over act in a Lifetime movie. There I was. I AM! I'm here! I'm here! I get to Stay and Play! Grace and Mercy are mine. Thank you, God, forevermore. I walked through the valley of the shadow of death and GOD IS WITH ME. He continues to comfort me. My cup runneth over!

Speaking of Comfort, thank you all for checking in on me. Thank you for the flowers, food, and the rides to appointments, and the phone and FB messages. And, especially, your prayers! You comfort me as God is taking care of me. My cup runneth over.

My new Title

I have a new title for this blog: The gross and THE GRACE. I like it.

Mosquitos

By the way, I think the radiation is wearing off. The mosquitos have started biting me, again.

I can't believe I am looking forward to this next surgery...

If everything works as planned, my final surgery, the one where they do the "spring cleaning", is on Wednesday, August 4. I am ready... or as ready as I'll ever be for four days in a hospital with a seam down my front as a souvenir (bye bye bikinis). Gee, I hope my tattoos don't get messed up! (That's a joke. I have four green perma-targets on my abdomen and hips for the radiation. I'm not enamored of them in the least.) I got away with having three babies without a hospital involved. I've only stayed in the hospital to get my tonsils out in high school and they sent me home early because I was such a wrotten patient. I am NOT kidding. Ask my mom.

But, really, I'm ready to put this business behind me. I'm ready for my life to be about more than my frail corpus. I'm ready to build me up, buttercup. Be all I can be. Like that. Howard and I were wonderfully fortunate to have our world travelers, Ethan and wife Tiffany, to keep me company while I rested up this last month. They are off on another adventure, but I won't be alone. Claire and Holly are coming into town and taking shifts to take care of me. They'll be here to feed me and carry my purse and, most likely, listen to me whine.

Come see me. Better yet, pray for everything to come out alright. Literally. I will be convalescing at home by the end of this week. I'll be fine, no matter what, because, you know and I know, God is taking care of me.

Just when I thought it was safe to go back in the water...

My title is the catch phrase used for promoting the sequel to "Jaws". Music in a minor chord, threat from below, dark danger. My digestive system. Yep, just when we were all breathing a sigh of relief and I had gained enough energy to do two and, sometimes, three things in a day, I have developed some very frustrating painful issue in my stomach and intestines. Waiting didn't make it go away. Herbs, either. Acupuncture helps for awhile. Painkillers just make me even more useless than I already am. But, that's what I've devolved to. Crud. On Monday I go back to the hospital for appointments (the one to see if I'm ready for surgery will, no doubt, be a waste of time) and for making one appointment for a scope. Pretty soon there will be almost as many pictures of the inside of me as the outside. Ones you won't be seeing on Facebook.

Why, yes, this is disheartening. But God is taking care of me and this is all just clouds.

Pretty Outrageously Wonderful News

This is VERY COOL: In January my Squamous cell Squamus cell? whatever--- the kind of cancer I have--- anyway the blood content count was 11. Normal is between 0 and 2.2.
As of last Tuesday, my count is.....1.3! NORMAL NORMAL NORMAL, NORMAL, NORMAL praise you, Jesus, NORMAL!
Another round of tears, please. God is loose in the World. Period.

Christine's Response to Claire's Blog Post on Faith

Filled up and overflowing with Love for Claire. And she's right about those God Winks. Searching for them in everyday life is pleasant and rewarding. I think Holly's favorite God Wink may be when the oncologist, Dr. Kettryl used the arcade game, Wack a Mole, as a metaphor for how chemo helps radiation work: The chemo is like a helper to push the moles (cancer cells) up farther so the radiation can smash them more easily. Wack a Mole is big in our family. We have never passed a Wack a Mole or any of its variations without playing it. Dr. Kettryl using Wack a Mole helped give Holly peace about the treatment protocol. After Dr. Kettryl's explanation we got an Extra Big Smile of Relief from Holly.

Faith Without Works is Dead

I'm not sure how to start this blog post because I have never done a blog before. My only experience in blogging was when I worked as my mom's hands while she was receiving a chemo treatment and her hands weren't really up to the challenge. I first signed up as second blogger to this site because we weren't sure how my mom's body would hold up during her treatments and we thought that I may be of some assistance to her to get her word out. Thank you dear God that you kept my mom well enough to continue to spread her good news herself!

Anyway, I just wanted you all to know an additional view to what my mom has experienced in the past few months. I first want to let you all know that from what I have seen, my mom is more powerful than you could ever imagine. She has the strength to stay faithful to Him even when the road leads to what looks like a jagged cliff. She has the willpower to eat only what is good for her body and to take shaking fists full of healing vitamins. She has the patience to be a patient and wear a plastic ugly wristband that brands her as a "sick" person, wait for many nervous moments in reception rooms, and hear good new then bad news, good news then bad news... My mom has had enough understanding that anger hasn't been a part of her daily emotions. She has had the warmth to continue to cheer on others and soothe sore spirits.

My mom has been amazing and it is her body and Him who are doing the healing. You better believe it!

But let me tell you something, it's repeating the title of this post, Faith without works is dead. When my mom and family were faced with this huge inconvenience, we not only put our total faith and trust in God but we started listening to Him and looking for clues that He was with us during some pretty tough times. One of the things that God told us while we were listening was different ways to take care of the inconvenience aside from the treatments that my mom would receive at the hospital. These treatments are:

1. Take a heavy dose of vitamins, daily - This step is to strengthen the body which will, in turn, take care of the nasty quickly-multiplying cells on its own.

2. Drink TONS of alkaline water a day - This step came to us through other people. I believe we first heard of it through a patient, which lead my dad to buy an alkaline water machine. Just in case we didn't put enough worth in the goodness of the machine, we were told about it a second time (after my mom was already using it) at church by a woman who felt led to approach my mom and give her business card that showed she sold the exact same machines. God wink*

3. Get your daily dose of pure oxygen - This step is important because cancer can't live in an oxygenated environment. I look at this step kind of like pouring salt onto a slug. :)

4. Follow doctors' orders - This step was hard for even ME to handle because we aren't just talking about Doctors of Chiropractic! Coming from such a homeopathic family, listening to medical doctors and succumbing to their recommendations was new for us! But God bless those medical doctors. I really think that they were open and willing to let God speak and work through them for the greater good of my mom's health. God bless them! The hospital was also a God wink because we finally got the answer to why my dad wasn't supposed to be allowed to quit Cancer Treatment Centers of America. God wink**

And last but not least, 5. Get on her knees and pray - This step was to draw everyone that was inconvenienced closer to Him. Over time we found that we weren't only speaking to Him to beg for help or strength for my mom but, we were also speaking to Him to show thanks and joy for what was happening daily in our lives.

Back to the "God winks*", these were the clues that we were looking for on a daily basis that God was/is with us and in on the healing. One example of when God winked is when my mom and I sat in an appointment with one of my mom's doctors. I felt the need to pray that God would speak to the doctor and that God would help the doctor make smart decisions in the treatments that my mom would be receiving in the weeks and months to come. It wasn't seconds later that the doctor stopped and shared that the thing that would really get my mom well was her faith in God. God winked at me and I was filled with joy. So far that has been my favorite wink. It told me straight away that if God is for us, who (and what) can be against us? I'm sure when you look closer at your day-to-day life, you will find a ton of God winks. You have to be looking though. Pay attention to His daily blessings!

So to conclude this post, I want everyone to know that my mom did this with the help of God, the support and outpouring of love from her friends and family that kept her positive (the evidence is hung all over the house in greeting card form), and her willingness and strength to take her struggle day-by-day.

I, personally, appreciate all that everyone has done for my mom these past months. She means the world to my family and me and we like having her around. Keep up the good works and the fabulous support! I love you mom!

Do not be anxious about ANYTHING?

My adoring and adorable husband, Howard, brought me this scripture: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. (Phil 4:6). In EVERYTHING with THANKSGIVING!??? Wow. Tall order, I'd say. Be thankful about the last six months. Really, now. Actually, yes, really. What a Hoot! The first time Howard prayed, "Thank you for the blessings of Christine's cancer", I shuddered a might. It kinda creeps me out to type it. That word, "Cancer" is like "Voldemort" the demon character in Harry Potter whose name no one would repeat. Bad Evil names better left un-uttered. And, yet. Likening a limiting physical "issue" to an imaginary book character, no matter how terrifying and dreadful, is curiously funny and strips it of its power to inflict fear. Cancer is powerless in my life compared to the Real Power, the "Deep Magic" as C.S. Lewis named it. That "Deep Magic" is something Harry Potter would be wise to investigate. I've tickled myself. I'm smiling at this silliness. Super.

So, the last MRI showed continued shrinkage of the tumor(s). TA DA!!!!! From the Radiological Oncologists' standpoint, I'm done and cured. From the Oncologist's and Oncological surgeon's standpoint, a "spring cleaning" is in order. I can't help but think of that scripture that says something about if your right eye offend thee, pluck it out. That has my vote. I thought it would be soon. That's what they told us. Now, the surgery has been postponed until I am stronger. Recovery will be easier if I'm better rejuvenated and rested. I am OK with this; even the waiting part. We were assured that the radiation is still active which is why I am tired and weak, still, so there is no risk in waiting. I go back the 22nd of June for blood work to gauge my recovery and whether the surgery can then be done. Until then, and as always, God is taking care of me.

I have more tattoos than anyone in my family, but who's counting?

It's a Friday in T-town. Lots going on this weekend. Most of it without me. I am gaining strength, thank you, God, but have to measure my day in itty bitty increments. Yesterday, I answered the call of the vacuum and did way too much "putting things away". Sorry, mama. Then, I went to the store to buy a shower gift and, by the time I got there and found the registry and walked to the place where the proposed gift sat, I had run out of energy. Crud. That box was ENORMOUS! So, Margot is getting a gift card which is about all I could carry by then. (Ssssshhhhh. Don't tell her. I want her to be surprised... as if a gift card is all that special. Can't muster special, though I bought her wedding gift months ago and it IS special. )

I hope people whose family members go through this getting well process have some patience and empathy. People keep telling me how "good" I look and how "well" I'm doing. I am so relieved and, yet, there's a part of me that wants to shout, "Don't expect anything, I'm kinda weak!" And is this ever a departure from how I felt in January when I didn't want anyone to even think I might have the capacity to be weak!!! I even cried in frustration thinking that someone would have to take care of me! Oh, Irony of Ironies. Right? So, it's personal growth to say, "I am weak, I need help." Just as long as I can quietly remind myself, "This too shall pass", I can do this. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me... everything from having babies at home and driving across country alone with them to having those grown babies take care of me while I'm healing at home and them driving cross country alone to help me get well.

Then, there is my Heavenly Father who is taking care of me, whose strength is perfected in my weakness. Getting to know who's in charge, who is REALLY taking care, has been an evolution of the finest personal growth, one that relieves me greatly and is the Rock on which I stand. This kind of weakness-- knowing I don't have to be in charge of the Big Picture and that no amount of perceived control or chaos or efforting or lacking effort or knowledge or the lack of it will make a difference. Yielding and praying, receiving and rejoicing are where it's at and thank you God for that.

So We Wait

They say (whoever they are) that patience is a virtue. The Bible says, "But if we look forward to something we don't have, yet, we must wait with patience and confidence." Rom 8:24 . This is a challenge. Miss Holly maintains it's why our family was put on earth: to Learn Patience. This is particularly clear to me right now as the chemo is done and all the radiation, internal and external, is finished. Now, we wait. (It hit me like a moist dirt clod on my way home from the last procedure: "Crud, now I have to WAIT!" And with that thought came fear.) My next appointment is May 24th for an MRI* update. The next day is a round of doctor appointments to prepare me for the last surgery (maybe the following week) and give me a status report.

This month-long Rest is hard! Not because I have too much to do, which typifies my ordinary life, but because I have little I'm supposed to do and, therefore, all the time in the world to Imagine. While I have been planning fun stuff and making plans for trips and pleasant days with good friends I have, unfortunately, had ample time to "Imagine the Worst".

Doing is easier. I have trouble empathizing with folks who don't DO. Filling my day is REALLY easier. But not now when doing a load of clothes is a five step ordeal with multiple rest stops in between. Or when looking at the weeds in my flower beds is just an annoyance because bending over makes me dizzy. Or staying away from the storage room when the vacuum is calling my name (Don't worry, mama, I've taped its mouth shut).

I've got to say that this part of the process of healing and regaining strength to endure the final surgery calls for as much radical faith as the earlier portion when the hospital and extra unhappy sensations filled my days. Again, I'm left with too much opportunity to imagine. Oh. I get it. I can work on IMAGINING THE FINEST OUTCOME. I will immediately cover negativity with wonderful things and shut those "drunken monkeys on my shoulder" up with faithfully crafted pictures of the blessings of old age and good health and loving people and God's promise. This blog just helped me. Doing this blog helped fix and free my mind. Doing is still my friend.

So, if you can't reach me on the phone and wonder how I am, don't think I'm lonely or unwell or scared. Please, just imagine me reaching out to touch Jesus's hem or being lowered by people who love me through the roof just to be near His side or just imagine me claiming how strong and useful I am becoming as I grow to a ripe and scrappy old age knowing all the while that God is Taking Care of Me every every every day. Because that's what I'll be Doing. "You have allowed me to suffer much hardship, but You Will restore me to life, again, and lift me up from the depths of the earth." Ps 71:20

*Note: If you ever have to have an MRI just lie there and pretend you are a stationery component in a video game. There are all kinds of grinding and popping and clicking sounds from the machine similar to a video game and they usually have you listen to music on headphones so just pick a bouncy music like you'd hear in an arcade and lie there and make like a motherboard and it will help. Additional note: If the MRI requires a full bladder, don't let them use any "relaxing" music with water sounds (rain, a babbling brook, a WATERFALL). This will make your experience particularly unpleasant. Believe me. The techs and I both learned something that day.

Live Woman Walking

"Live Woman Walking!" is what I said as I left recovery suite #2 on Wednesday. "Live Woman Walking" ...not even needing a wheel chair like the four times before, but walking. I'm almost done with my tacky little "c" and all the long hours of discomfort. I have alot of Resting to do, still, and some check ups and blood lettings, probably, but I can do this. My next task may be to Release all the negativity and turn my memories into neutral observations. I will walk away from this not only alive, but improved, somehow. Just Watch Me.

I will also sit down and pray over every card and note and hand drawn picture I have received. One memory I will certainly never view as neutral is the overwhelming love of the people in my life. My acupuncturist, Melissa, has bent over backwards to provide me time. Our babysitter from when the kids were small came at SIX in the MORNING on Wednesday to hug me and pray with Howard and me. Overwhelming! My sisters drove for hours and hours to spend just about as many hours with me to smooch and pet and entertain. My daughters have shown up every chance they have had to fold my clothes or style my hair and my mother... I can not express to you or her the depth and breadth of my devotion to a woman who has taken her caring for me to a new unparalleled selfless level. I could not imagine. I don't want to imagine how horrid it would have been without her ever-present company and TLC. Of Course, Howard J. Honey lifts me and encourages me and makes me laugh and has been doing so for 30 years. And, then, there is my High Tower, my Comfort, my Counselor who is taking care of me.

(There's a video on youtube of the ribbon/chain cutting ceremony we held of cutting off my hospital bracelets. Search Live Woman Walking or check the link on Facebook.)

A truly lovely dinner

Last night, Howard J. Honey and I were treated to dinner by our wonderful friends, Mike and Susan Burkhart. It was a celebration of sorts because Peter Mayer is in town and we always appreciate his voice, spirit, and good-humored company. We went to Fusco's on the river and drank wine on the patio as the sun set and, then, went inside just for the Halibut. Our conversation drifted from how our children still (pleasantly) surprise us, how Pete's daughter, India is graduating high school and why-on-earth-did-Pete-encourage-his-kids-to-go-away-to-school to talking about God's strength being perfected in our weakness and blessings upon blessings upon blessings. I love the people I was with last night. Their openness and support and the opportunity to laugh out loud is an incredible priceless gift. I certainly love my husband. How hard this has all been for him. Atlas shrugged. So far, Howard has only fidgeted some.

Howard felt comfortable enough in our loving company last night, to reveal something I did not know: That my chances of overcoming the little c, statistically, were not good. News to me, but he has known from the beginning. Again, how hard has this been for him! But here is what is so about this: It doesn't matter what the statistics are. I am. And I am here if God wants me here and in Heaven if he doesn't. Those of you who know me know I always tout the Win-Win options. This is one of those. My sense is that I'm sticking to this earthly coil for awhile. Really. I have clear visions of opening Goodland's new campus. (I also have visions of grand babies, but they are more like the sugarplum dreams of Christmas Eve.) I like being here. I have work to do, people to love and be loved by, and joy to experience, but, frankly, either way, God is taking care of me.

Almost there...

At 5 in the a.m. tomorrow I get up and go to my second to the last surgery/radiation ordeal. Howard, my love, will be my escort to and mama, my rock, will keep me company for the duration. My radiological oncologist, Dr. Flynn, asked me at our last appointment to influence a woman who was scheduled to have brachytherapy which is what I've been undergoing, but was scared and thinking about backing out. I told Dr. Flynn I would talk to her if she wanted, but it would be a "qualified" endorsement. This procedure, as much as I'd like to sugar coat it, is pretty gruesome. One of the main reasons is I don't like anesthesia or its groggy aftermath, but, also, because it just plain hurts and floors me for days. I have to just keep that faith in God and know that he won't give me anything I can't handle.

So, I told Dr. Flynn I could definitely speak to the progress I've benefited from and which correlates to the treatment AND I had to tell this woman who was considering it that it was very unpleasant. I wondered if telling her the details of brachytherapy as I experienced them would give her some peace or totally send her running for the relative safety of NYC at 2 a.m., but I certainly didn't want to perpetrate a lie on a woman already pretty down.

Well, I got lucky... or maybe she did... or Dr.Flynn did... I don't know, but she decided on her own and I didn't have to speak to her at all. What's the point of this posting? I'm just typing to avoid going to bed. I dread tomorrow and, at the same time, know it'll all be a memory, soon. And, of course, God is taking care of me. I forget His Grace. When I remember it I feel so much better.