Two years ago I sat on Santa’s lap.
I only wanted one gift: hair. Chemo treatments stole my beauty markers. It ate my eyebrows, eyelashes, and hair (hungry little guy). The mirror check resulted in a search and rescue for any kind of roughage. My eyes would slip all over my face and head until it landed on my sole survivor eyelash. One eyelash on each eye.
It looked stupid. Continue reading
Last year, at this time, I was only about 6 months free of cancer treatments. The toll on my body was still in full effect. I was tired but happy (as anyone knows who has ever gone through chemo knows that true happiness is the ditching of chemo treatments).
I knew my energy levels so I was certain that I wasn’t going to run the “pink race”. It’s a 5k/1 mile walk to raise money for local breast cancer patients. One of my cancer friends is the 5k head hauncho. But, the alligator tears from my 3 year old who wanted to run for mommy had me at the line up. Continue reading
I have three contacts in my phone I can no longer use. Anita, Sheree, and now Lori. All cancer friends. I can’t bring myself to erase these contacts, as if having them in my phone somehow keeps them close to me.
A flood of memories rush in when I see their name flash across as I’m scrolling for another contact. For a brief moment my heart goes soft and I am touched by their goodness. The memory of their smile greets me in this moment. I can almost hear their voice, their laughter comforting me and telling me that though there are hard times there is much sunshine.
I just can’t push “erase.” Continue reading
It was just the 5th grade volcano day.
For any other parent it would have been one of those dreaded weekend cram sessions of twirling homework hurling. But for me, life was erupting and spewing fresh hot lava down new paths.
Yep. Good old cancer diagnosis blew 5 days before volcano day.
The week I was diagnosed with cancer my life erupted and everything came to a halt. It seemed that all I could see was the lava flow of cancer. It was consuming me. Not that I was depressed, necessarily, but I was overwhelmed by the details of it.
One day I’m planning the sweet details of my own life and the next day my health care concerns are charring in life’s little fire. It’s like those sugared almonds I have trouble with. In one minute it’s looking good and then then next moment they are eyepopping black-ish. It’s the elite cancer lava plan I just got thrown into. Continue reading
Hard times are holy places.
That’s how I’ve come to feel about some of the most difficult times in my life. As I walked through cancer I could feel the power of God carrying me. What a sweet experience to feel snug, nestled in God’s hand.
He was very close.
But, there have been times when I have felt alone in my struggles. Times when I wondered if there was a soul in the world who knew my pain. In middle school I remember having a particularly difficult day. Now, since I’ve long surpassed middle school, the technicalities of the troubles are unclear to me.
I am certain the problems were minor compared to some of the things I have since faced, but at this little pixel point in my life it was a heavy burden to me.
As I pondered on solutions, I was stumped about answers to my troubles. Only the sound of tires grabbing the road could calm me. And concentration on my momentary road abode was just a temporary escape from the real issue, the constant noise took my mind off it all. Continue reading
I read a book by Stephen R. Covey many years ago that changed the way I spend my week. Since I’m a textbook nerd I’ll skip the high tech definitions and get right to the point. You’ll appreciate the shortcut version, I’m sure.
But first you must know I’m a huge list maker. I thrive off lists. It’s not so much the list that I like but it’s the check marks that complete me. I like to feel productive. It’s my twisted sugar rush.
So you must know that list making can be a bit of a problem. On one particular unproductive day I couldn’t stand the fact that I wasn’t getting anything done so I actually created a list that I could check off the things I had already done that day. Oh, what a pitiful list. When you have to actually write down brush your teeth and get dressed as a “to do” item you can assume my noon to moon list was doomed to other menial tasks.
So, yep, it was lame. Continue reading
I hoped I’d be the one.
You know, the one who never loses her hair. I wanted to keep all that hair (see picture below). One day I believe my prayers are working that I’ll be that one who never loses her hair and the next moment it goes dead (if hair could ever be called alive). It was like my plump lush flowerpot after one hot day in the sun: withering and lifeless. Just one. That’s all it took was one little chemo treatment.
Finding balance after a major setback can be frustrating. After I finished chemo and radiation I believed that life would spring back to “normal” for me.
Preconceived notions are quite humorous. Yep. Hilarious.
For the entire year after treatments I found myself laying on the ground more than I was walking gracefully on any kind of balance beam. Oh, I would get up but it wasn’t long before I was toppling over…
And dreaming peacefully about falsified energy zings & things. Then I’d wake up more behind. “Be patient with yourself,” my doctor would tell me over and over. I was tired of being patient. Hadn’t I spent the entire year before being patient? Continue reading
So first thing I know I’m in a relentless dizzy whirlwind. And I’m wondering is it possible to drown in a whirlwind? And just as fiercely it spits me somewhere in the middle of a silent ocean; on a little rickety row boat I float. There’s not a breeze, no water licks the sides of the boat, and there’s a shark looming underneath. I can’t see it, but I feel it in that queasy feeling in my stomach. My thoughts are loud, extremely loud. And there’s no escape.
But I smile. It’s fake.
I don’t want my kids picking up on my distress signal. But the warning lights have been flashing for 15 days now. The biopsy was 8 days ago. The promised 3-5 day results are overdue.
It is here on this eery ocean I sit quietly and wait for a rescue. I desperately need a rescue, any rescue.
I’m not so sure I can take one more day of worry. At this point, any news will soothe. Continue reading
I have always loved the rain. I like how it dusts off blades of grass and paints everything Crayola green. I love the way it smells and how the chill of cool fresh air brushes my cheeks and curls around the back of my neck. I love the tap dance of rain on cement and the grand applause from the rooftop.
I stop everything I am doing, rush to find a blanket, and hustle the kids outside. We know it will only last a moment. Poof! Umbrellas pop and hover and stories emerge. I flip out a smile when I watch temperature resistant kids submerge bare feet in puddles. Goose bump inspired thoughts cause me to tug my blanket in just a bit tighter. Continue reading