It's been a while since I last posted. In my steps to a healthy recovery, I chose to sift through a lot of garbage and baggage, too. It's been a 3 month process, but I'm just about there.
In my journey, I knew I was meant to tell stories of strong women. I have compiled all my research and now working on the final format. Being my own worst proof-reader (as you will notice in my blogs :P), I'm creating literary art and not so worried about spelling or grammar. And, I'm pleased with this acceptance that it is okay to have my own style of writing and not forced to create otherwise.
I plan to blog daily, being much shorter in length than the past posts. In doing so, I hope more of daily humor will flow through my fingertips.
In summary: my house, soul, and well being are getting a face-lift. The church will get the sifting of material goods for their garage sale. The Lord and I have sifted through the soul and I see daily signs he is pleased (so am I). Shake Off That Garbage! And, my well-being is my daily goal. The old saying, "When mama ain't happy, nobody's happy" sums it up well. Feel good, look good, love with gusto, laugh outloud, and praise and give thanks to the One above. Yes, this is my job to discover how to do these well! When I do, those around me are nurtured and healthy, too.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Yes, you need your spouse's total and undivided support
In my last blog, I mentioned how badly I shook during each radiation treatment. It's nothing like I was the day I got married. A lovely outside wedding backing up to a creek in the exclusive Bent Tree development of Dallas. Cinderella couldn't have asked for a more perfect setting.
Having waited a long while to get married, I was 36 and very independent. The last few minutes before the ceremony, everything happened all at once and I started panicking. The wind wouldn't allow the white aisle runner to stay in place, the flower girl and train bearer were switching out head pieces, I never got the second coat of polish on my nails, everyone was asking questions and my head was spinning.
The photographer wanted to come into the bride's room and take candid pictures and all I wanted to do was stick my hand in front of the camera like Sean Penn's response to the paparazzi. The wedding party was being called and I heard the wedding march begin. I couldn't breathe.
My size 6 dress began to feel like a size 0. My dear friend, Mike Sanders, started cracking jokes to calm me down. My body went into a strange mode - it was like an out of body experience. I don't know how I got into position with my father to my side. . . . surely it wasn't my own two feet. . . . it had to be divine intervention.
As dad and I stood waiting our turn to proceed, I saw my whole "single" life flying in front of me. The thought of becoming a runaway bride crossed my mind. Good Lord, I had been on my own for so many lonely years and yet, all those years I never had to share the tv remote or confer with someone on an expense over $500.
I know this sounds trivial, but a good party dress might need clearance from this day forward!
And so the nervous shaking began. First it was my knees, then my shoulders, then my bottom lip and chin, until my whole body was quivering. Then I felt the tug by my father that it was time to go, it was our turn.
We walked a short distance before turning down the aisle and once we made that life changing turn. . . . that only took a split second. . . . my eyes met Danny's and there was a bond like no other. I caught my breath and couldn't wait to begin my new life with my prince charming. Move over Cinderella!
When I first felt the lump, I showed Danny. He remained positive that it was only a cyst and I had nothing to worry about. Deep within, I knew it was more and began secretly preparing myself for the worst.
For those of you who know Danny, he isn't a man of many words unless it's a subject he thoroughly enjoys, like classic cars or Humphrey Bogart. I didn't know how to ask for help without him thinking I was weak. He had never been around anyone terribly ill before except for his mother who succumbed to cancer when he was 11. Whoaaaaa! Like thunder announces a storm, I recognized we both were scared to death.
My doctors and nurses were excellent in preparing me on what to expect. I would share this information with Danny and somehow the words I needed for him to hear got lost in translation. I needed his support in so many different ways.
I took to the Internet and began reading articles and postings. I even corresponded in the wee hours of the morning with a young mother of 3 children under the age of 7 with metastatic cancer. Although receiving a second round of chemo, her chances of surviving were slim and she knew it. She stayed strong during the day for her family but at night she allowed honesty to flow with those of us who were listening.
In my searches, I found a site that recommended reading material for patients and their families. I ordered a book for Danny and another one for me. If Danny read it or just thumbed through it I don't know, but it was almost immediately I saw a change in how he responded to my needs. He became both mother and father; did the household shopping and cleaning; in parenting he was the bad guy and allowed me to be the good guy; he never said a word on the days I couldn't get out of bed and my meals were delivered upstairs.
Cancer can be so lonely, but it doesn't need to be. Those of us who hesitate on asking for help must swallow our pride. Those of us who only offer hints as to our needs, must learn to articulate. Those of us who ask and the other party doesn't hear, don't give up but ask again making eye contact. And, for those of us who have asked must not feel badly for the asking. Stop apologizing - let your friends and family take care of you - they can be your best cheerleaders and we all need lots of cheer throughout this dreadful experience.
Recommended books:
Breast Cancer Husband: How to Help Your Wife (and Yourself) during Diagnosis, Treatment and Beyond by Mark Silver.
Just Get Me Through This!: The Practical Guide to Breast Cancer by Deborah A. Cohen
and Robert M. Gelfand, MD
Both at Amazon.com
Next: No two kids are alike when handling life's curve balls.
Having waited a long while to get married, I was 36 and very independent. The last few minutes before the ceremony, everything happened all at once and I started panicking. The wind wouldn't allow the white aisle runner to stay in place, the flower girl and train bearer were switching out head pieces, I never got the second coat of polish on my nails, everyone was asking questions and my head was spinning.
The photographer wanted to come into the bride's room and take candid pictures and all I wanted to do was stick my hand in front of the camera like Sean Penn's response to the paparazzi. The wedding party was being called and I heard the wedding march begin. I couldn't breathe.
My size 6 dress began to feel like a size 0. My dear friend, Mike Sanders, started cracking jokes to calm me down. My body went into a strange mode - it was like an out of body experience. I don't know how I got into position with my father to my side. . . . surely it wasn't my own two feet. . . . it had to be divine intervention.
As dad and I stood waiting our turn to proceed, I saw my whole "single" life flying in front of me. The thought of becoming a runaway bride crossed my mind. Good Lord, I had been on my own for so many lonely years and yet, all those years I never had to share the tv remote or confer with someone on an expense over $500.
I know this sounds trivial, but a good party dress might need clearance from this day forward!
And so the nervous shaking began. First it was my knees, then my shoulders, then my bottom lip and chin, until my whole body was quivering. Then I felt the tug by my father that it was time to go, it was our turn.
We walked a short distance before turning down the aisle and once we made that life changing turn. . . . that only took a split second. . . . my eyes met Danny's and there was a bond like no other. I caught my breath and couldn't wait to begin my new life with my prince charming. Move over Cinderella!
+ + + + +
When I first felt the lump, I showed Danny. He remained positive that it was only a cyst and I had nothing to worry about. Deep within, I knew it was more and began secretly preparing myself for the worst.
For those of you who know Danny, he isn't a man of many words unless it's a subject he thoroughly enjoys, like classic cars or Humphrey Bogart. I didn't know how to ask for help without him thinking I was weak. He had never been around anyone terribly ill before except for his mother who succumbed to cancer when he was 11. Whoaaaaa! Like thunder announces a storm, I recognized we both were scared to death.
My doctors and nurses were excellent in preparing me on what to expect. I would share this information with Danny and somehow the words I needed for him to hear got lost in translation. I needed his support in so many different ways.
I took to the Internet and began reading articles and postings. I even corresponded in the wee hours of the morning with a young mother of 3 children under the age of 7 with metastatic cancer. Although receiving a second round of chemo, her chances of surviving were slim and she knew it. She stayed strong during the day for her family but at night she allowed honesty to flow with those of us who were listening.
In my searches, I found a site that recommended reading material for patients and their families. I ordered a book for Danny and another one for me. If Danny read it or just thumbed through it I don't know, but it was almost immediately I saw a change in how he responded to my needs. He became both mother and father; did the household shopping and cleaning; in parenting he was the bad guy and allowed me to be the good guy; he never said a word on the days I couldn't get out of bed and my meals were delivered upstairs.
Cancer can be so lonely, but it doesn't need to be. Those of us who hesitate on asking for help must swallow our pride. Those of us who only offer hints as to our needs, must learn to articulate. Those of us who ask and the other party doesn't hear, don't give up but ask again making eye contact. And, for those of us who have asked must not feel badly for the asking. Stop apologizing - let your friends and family take care of you - they can be your best cheerleaders and we all need lots of cheer throughout this dreadful experience.
Recommended books:
Breast Cancer Husband: How to Help Your Wife (and Yourself) during Diagnosis, Treatment and Beyond by Mark Silver.
Just Get Me Through This!: The Practical Guide to Breast Cancer by Deborah A. Cohen
and Robert M. Gelfand, MD
Both at Amazon.com
Next: No two kids are alike when handling life's curve balls.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Who's Under the Mask May Surprise You
My daughter, Jill, is excited over the 2010 prom theme - Masquerade Ball.
First, I've been advised, we must shop for the dress so that we may shop on-line for the perfect mask. As I listened to her plans, all I could hear within my head was "CaChing!"
Last year was her first prom and I was in disbelief on how expensive it was. We're considered comfortable, so I truly felt for the parents of lower income families. First we bought a dress that required a specific petticoat and then a full body lingerie piece was an item she just had to have and it still required a specific bra. Then there were shoes, hosiery, nails, hairstyle, jewelry, a purse, her share of the limo, boutonniere, ticket price, dinner money . . . and I'm sure I'm forgetting something. CaChing, CaChing, CaChing!
By prom night Danny and I were broke!
What I do appreciate about the group my daughter runs with, all coming from different income families, they each pay their own way except for the corsage and boutonniere. In my day, the young man paid for everything once you walked past the threshold of your own front door. This was considered proper etiquette. I welcome what her friends have chosen to follow so no student is left out. What is spent, using today's protocol, is between the students and their parents.
All of this brings me back to this year's prom theme. My father worked for the Church for 33 years and many life lessons came from not what I learned in Sunday school or church services, but from my Dad's own experiences from working directly with people of all ages, racial backgrounds and economic standings. He had a term for the people who were in their pew every Sunday morning, rain or shine, yet during the week were the most selfish, unsympathetic, and judging human beings. He referred to them as the (Sunday morning) Mask Wearers.
You may be questioning my father's decision to share such stories with me and I want to preface this by saying he never mentioned names. My life lessons were mostly taught during road trips to visit relatives in Arkansas or Sunday afternoon drives through the country, where we ended up at Dairy Queen for a chocolate dipped ice cream cone. I would propose various scenarios and listen to my father's take on each. Several surprised me like (note: I was a teen in the 60's and early 70's when you didn't know if you should call someone colored or black without being offensive and abortion was a major topic in the news), "Would you approve of me marrying a black man?" and "Would you allow me to have a baby out of wedlock?"
Getting back to the story, my father showed dismay and disappointment when he was giving me the Sunday morning mask lesson. I could tell faces of people he once trusted, maybe even admired & valued their opinion were swimming in his thoughts as he talked. Dad could be as opinionated as the next, yet you always knew where he stood on a subject - he was never wishy-washy or two-faced, like many mask warriors, oops, I mean, wearers.
It may appear as if Dad's opinions were staunch or steadfast. Not true. The best lesson I learned from him was not to judge someone unless you've walked in their shoes.
It's easier said than done, right?
Grieving is something a cancer patient needs to work through in order to completely heal. I've seen both a 5 and 7 step process of grieving. I'm following the 7 step as I find the extra steps are as important to my healing process as the other 5. And I prefer the 7 Stages of Healing opposed to Steps, and they are:
1. Shock and Denial
2. Pain and Guilt
3. Anger and Bargaining
4. Depression, Reflection, and Loneliness
5. The Upward Turn
6. Reconstruction and Working Through
7. Acceptance and Hope
A website I found helpful: http://www.recover-from-grief.com/7-stages-of-grief.html
Grief is not just from losing a loved one or dealing with someone who may or may not be terminally ill.
It can be for someone who is forced into retirement or can't play their beloved golf due to health issues. Grief should be dealt with or bitterness and resentment can take over your life by thrusting your body into overdrive, often with harmful results.
I'm working through Stage 4. It's a daily struggle, but I'm overcoming a little bit at a time. I'm on an anti-depressant and may even up the dosage until I've "overcome". I'm reflecting day in and day out (and often in my dreams) - I've thought of so many acts of accomplishments and disappointments over my 56 years. . . even remembrances from childhood and other surprising thoughts just surface from nowhere. The from "nowhere" recollections, I take as a sign and I try to learn from each. And, the loneliness can be misinterpreted because I do have a loving family and loyal friendships that sustain me. Yet, I've been surprised by others in my life. . . . .which sends me back to stages 1, 2, & 3! Yet, this too, I shall overcome.
Yes Dad, I've witnessed some masks, but only a few. I've always been one to try and find the best in everyone, so my mask revelations, especially when it directly involves me, is disheartening and disappointing. It's difficult at times, but I do try not to judge and to make sense of someone's bewildering behavior. I try to understand what triggered their actions and dismiss the rest. This has backfired on me on several occasions, even recently. . . . but, I've learned so much about myself in the process. I like who I see in the mirror each morning.
I hate the thought of disappointing anyone and in trying to please so many for so long did backfire on me. Another hard lesson I've learned is that I asked for help that was not heard. It's not their problem they weren't listening, but mine that I didn't articulate what exactly was needed. Or, when you don't succeed at first, try, try again. I'm wiser today.
The Good Lord and I both know I'm not perfect. . . . Oh my goodness, far from perfect!
. . . . Which leads me to the expression (without making excuses by all means), “If we were all perfect how boring would life be?" Dad may have used this expression, I can't remember; however, it allows us, each and everyone, to know we aren't perfect and aren't expected to be. If someone seeks prefection at all times, especially from you, try to walk in their shoes and ask yourself what is it that makes them so hard on themselves and those around them. It doesn't excuse their behavior, yet you can love and appreciate them for what they may offer. . . which is, by the way, not perfection.
Yes, I’m in Stage 4 and progressing everyday! And, thank you Lord, for these and all lessons - I choose to and will be better for them.
Next: Going Postal
First, I've been advised, we must shop for the dress so that we may shop on-line for the perfect mask. As I listened to her plans, all I could hear within my head was "CaChing!"
Last year was her first prom and I was in disbelief on how expensive it was. We're considered comfortable, so I truly felt for the parents of lower income families. First we bought a dress that required a specific petticoat and then a full body lingerie piece was an item she just had to have and it still required a specific bra. Then there were shoes, hosiery, nails, hairstyle, jewelry, a purse, her share of the limo, boutonniere, ticket price, dinner money . . . and I'm sure I'm forgetting something. CaChing, CaChing, CaChing!
By prom night Danny and I were broke!
What I do appreciate about the group my daughter runs with, all coming from different income families, they each pay their own way except for the corsage and boutonniere. In my day, the young man paid for everything once you walked past the threshold of your own front door. This was considered proper etiquette. I welcome what her friends have chosen to follow so no student is left out. What is spent, using today's protocol, is between the students and their parents.
All of this brings me back to this year's prom theme. My father worked for the Church for 33 years and many life lessons came from not what I learned in Sunday school or church services, but from my Dad's own experiences from working directly with people of all ages, racial backgrounds and economic standings. He had a term for the people who were in their pew every Sunday morning, rain or shine, yet during the week were the most selfish, unsympathetic, and judging human beings. He referred to them as the (Sunday morning) Mask Wearers.
You may be questioning my father's decision to share such stories with me and I want to preface this by saying he never mentioned names. My life lessons were mostly taught during road trips to visit relatives in Arkansas or Sunday afternoon drives through the country, where we ended up at Dairy Queen for a chocolate dipped ice cream cone. I would propose various scenarios and listen to my father's take on each. Several surprised me like (note: I was a teen in the 60's and early 70's when you didn't know if you should call someone colored or black without being offensive and abortion was a major topic in the news), "Would you approve of me marrying a black man?" and "Would you allow me to have a baby out of wedlock?"
Getting back to the story, my father showed dismay and disappointment when he was giving me the Sunday morning mask lesson. I could tell faces of people he once trusted, maybe even admired & valued their opinion were swimming in his thoughts as he talked. Dad could be as opinionated as the next, yet you always knew where he stood on a subject - he was never wishy-washy or two-faced, like many mask warriors, oops, I mean, wearers.
It may appear as if Dad's opinions were staunch or steadfast. Not true. The best lesson I learned from him was not to judge someone unless you've walked in their shoes.
It's easier said than done, right?
Grieving is something a cancer patient needs to work through in order to completely heal. I've seen both a 5 and 7 step process of grieving. I'm following the 7 step as I find the extra steps are as important to my healing process as the other 5. And I prefer the 7 Stages of Healing opposed to Steps, and they are:
1. Shock and Denial
2. Pain and Guilt
3. Anger and Bargaining
4. Depression, Reflection, and Loneliness
5. The Upward Turn
6. Reconstruction and Working Through
7. Acceptance and Hope
A website I found helpful: http://www.recover-from-grief.com/7-stages-of-grief.html
Grief is not just from losing a loved one or dealing with someone who may or may not be terminally ill.
It can be for someone who is forced into retirement or can't play their beloved golf due to health issues. Grief should be dealt with or bitterness and resentment can take over your life by thrusting your body into overdrive, often with harmful results.
I'm working through Stage 4. It's a daily struggle, but I'm overcoming a little bit at a time. I'm on an anti-depressant and may even up the dosage until I've "overcome". I'm reflecting day in and day out (and often in my dreams) - I've thought of so many acts of accomplishments and disappointments over my 56 years. . . even remembrances from childhood and other surprising thoughts just surface from nowhere. The from "nowhere" recollections, I take as a sign and I try to learn from each. And, the loneliness can be misinterpreted because I do have a loving family and loyal friendships that sustain me. Yet, I've been surprised by others in my life. . . . .which sends me back to stages 1, 2, & 3! Yet, this too, I shall overcome.
Yes Dad, I've witnessed some masks, but only a few. I've always been one to try and find the best in everyone, so my mask revelations, especially when it directly involves me, is disheartening and disappointing. It's difficult at times, but I do try not to judge and to make sense of someone's bewildering behavior. I try to understand what triggered their actions and dismiss the rest. This has backfired on me on several occasions, even recently. . . . but, I've learned so much about myself in the process. I like who I see in the mirror each morning.
I hate the thought of disappointing anyone and in trying to please so many for so long did backfire on me. Another hard lesson I've learned is that I asked for help that was not heard. It's not their problem they weren't listening, but mine that I didn't articulate what exactly was needed. Or, when you don't succeed at first, try, try again. I'm wiser today.
The Good Lord and I both know I'm not perfect. . . . Oh my goodness, far from perfect!
. . . . Which leads me to the expression (without making excuses by all means), “If we were all perfect how boring would life be?" Dad may have used this expression, I can't remember; however, it allows us, each and everyone, to know we aren't perfect and aren't expected to be. If someone seeks prefection at all times, especially from you, try to walk in their shoes and ask yourself what is it that makes them so hard on themselves and those around them. It doesn't excuse their behavior, yet you can love and appreciate them for what they may offer. . . which is, by the way, not perfection.
Yes, I’m in Stage 4 and progressing everyday! And, thank you Lord, for these and all lessons - I choose to and will be better for them.
Next: Going Postal
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
HUGE Break-through in Breast Cancer Treatment
My husband found an article in Sunday's edition of the Dallas Morning News (Jan 17, 2010).
Researchers at the University of Oklahoma have broken through with successful treatments to reduce the size of large cancerous breast tumors.
The treatment involves administering microwaved heat to the area of the tumor shortly after chemotherapy. The article states this treatment could reduce the need for mastectomies by nearly 90%. In their specific research, patients' need for surgery was reduced from 75% to only 7%. This is HUGE.
The treatment has been approved by the FDA and should be well used globally within 5-10 years. I pray it becomes a normal practice within 2 years.
For those who are learning about breast cancer, tumor reduction in size could result in only the need for a lumpectomy - where you will be able to keep your breast. I'm sure the treatment and/or reduction offers other benefits; however, for those of us who have lost 1 or both breasts, this newsy break-through is a HUGE step in the battle of breast cancer.
Good going U of OK researchers - God bless each and every one of you!
Researchers at the University of Oklahoma have broken through with successful treatments to reduce the size of large cancerous breast tumors.
The treatment involves administering microwaved heat to the area of the tumor shortly after chemotherapy. The article states this treatment could reduce the need for mastectomies by nearly 90%. In their specific research, patients' need for surgery was reduced from 75% to only 7%. This is HUGE.
The treatment has been approved by the FDA and should be well used globally within 5-10 years. I pray it becomes a normal practice within 2 years.
For those who are learning about breast cancer, tumor reduction in size could result in only the need for a lumpectomy - where you will be able to keep your breast. I'm sure the treatment and/or reduction offers other benefits; however, for those of us who have lost 1 or both breasts, this newsy break-through is a HUGE step in the battle of breast cancer.
Good going U of OK researchers - God bless each and every one of you!
Friday, January 15, 2010
The Dreaded Phone Call and a Parent's Worst Nightmare
Our community held an event where proceeds were given to 4 non-profit organizations in our area. Being in-between treatment side effects, I was able to assist in the festival.
Many patients choose to back off outside activity during treatment. Chemo is like a chameleon, transforming differently with each administering of drugs. My organization was one of the 4 recipients from the proceeds and I felt obligated to volunteer my time.
After a quick dinner that evening, I immediately was off to bed to watch TV and it's doubtful that I made it as far as the 9:00 time slot before falling asleep. This schedule had become the norm for me now that I required 9-10 hours of sleep each night.
Danny came to bed at 10:30 and I asked him if Jill had returned home and he said no. She and her friend Cody were off enjoying an annual event, “Terror Trails”, a Halloween fright house in a neighboring town. In years past she would arrive home between 10-11pm from TT, so I wasn’t worried.
At 11:11, the phone rang waking us and Danny answered. I could tell by his answers that something was wrong and I couldn't determine who was on the other end. He turned to me and said Jill had been in a car accident and was being care-flighted into Tyler. . . . they needed to know which hospital we preferred. I responded and began dressing.
We knew it was of no use to first go to the scene of the accident. . . .this has been a frequent question asked by many, so we began the long 1 hour drive to Tyler. Once in the car we turned off the music and traveled in silence unless we had to speak. I sent many prayers to God – I don’t remember the details, but I’m sure I offered my soul if he allowed Jill to live.
I’m a person who likes to know where she stands at all times – I work hard at the good virtue known as patience. There’s no doubt Danny’s and my silence was due to dealing with the unknown. We were parents in the middle of our worst nightmare.
At the hospital, we were escorted into a private waiting area. I was led to a room like this before when my father was thought to be DOA. . . . 15 minutes later the hospital in Dallas realized they had the wrong family. So, I knew rooms like this didn't always bring good news and I feared the worst.
A nurse came in and said Jill was in the ER with a broken femur and the hospital Chaplin would be in shortly.
She was alive - thank you, thank you, thank you dear Lord, Jill’s alive!
As it turned out, a broken leg was the least of Jill's injuries and I will blog later about her miraculous recovery and how my cancer became my secondary priority until I found myself in the hospital.
To all of those who are reading this blog: As Christians, as parents, as daughters or sons, as wives or husbands, as devoted friends. . . . our first response in dealing with someone else's adversity is to put the other person first above all. When you are facing a life threatening illness yourself such as cancer, you MUST put yourself first. Why? Without your health, you can't be the help you wish to be to your loved ones.
I know and I could have died - and not from cancer.
Next: The many faces of my masquerade ball.
Many patients choose to back off outside activity during treatment. Chemo is like a chameleon, transforming differently with each administering of drugs. My organization was one of the 4 recipients from the proceeds and I felt obligated to volunteer my time.
After a quick dinner that evening, I immediately was off to bed to watch TV and it's doubtful that I made it as far as the 9:00 time slot before falling asleep. This schedule had become the norm for me now that I required 9-10 hours of sleep each night.
Danny came to bed at 10:30 and I asked him if Jill had returned home and he said no. She and her friend Cody were off enjoying an annual event, “Terror Trails”, a Halloween fright house in a neighboring town. In years past she would arrive home between 10-11pm from TT, so I wasn’t worried.
At 11:11, the phone rang waking us and Danny answered. I could tell by his answers that something was wrong and I couldn't determine who was on the other end. He turned to me and said Jill had been in a car accident and was being care-flighted into Tyler. . . . they needed to know which hospital we preferred. I responded and began dressing.
We knew it was of no use to first go to the scene of the accident. . . .this has been a frequent question asked by many, so we began the long 1 hour drive to Tyler. Once in the car we turned off the music and traveled in silence unless we had to speak. I sent many prayers to God – I don’t remember the details, but I’m sure I offered my soul if he allowed Jill to live.
I’m a person who likes to know where she stands at all times – I work hard at the good virtue known as patience. There’s no doubt Danny’s and my silence was due to dealing with the unknown. We were parents in the middle of our worst nightmare.
At the hospital, we were escorted into a private waiting area. I was led to a room like this before when my father was thought to be DOA. . . . 15 minutes later the hospital in Dallas realized they had the wrong family. So, I knew rooms like this didn't always bring good news and I feared the worst.
A nurse came in and said Jill was in the ER with a broken femur and the hospital Chaplin would be in shortly.
She was alive - thank you, thank you, thank you dear Lord, Jill’s alive!
As it turned out, a broken leg was the least of Jill's injuries and I will blog later about her miraculous recovery and how my cancer became my secondary priority until I found myself in the hospital.
To all of those who are reading this blog: As Christians, as parents, as daughters or sons, as wives or husbands, as devoted friends. . . . our first response in dealing with someone else's adversity is to put the other person first above all. When you are facing a life threatening illness yourself such as cancer, you MUST put yourself first. Why? Without your health, you can't be the help you wish to be to your loved ones.
I know and I could have died - and not from cancer.
Next: The many faces of my masquerade ball.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Reid uses humor . . . .
My son uses humor, mostly to get out of trouble at home and school. At times I find myself saying, "Enough, already!" But it was this same humor that allowed me to release anxiety along my journey.
Reid is 16 and is into music and his guitar. He practices his instrument as often as possible, so all of us at home have learned to block out the noise so we can pursue whatever it is we wish to do. This can be hard at times since Reid is into grunge. Danny and I wish that he would find more precedence in his education, but on the whole, he is a good guy with dreams of being a successful rock musician.
The day after I was diagnosed with cancer and awaiting to hear more on the plan of action, Reid left to spend the weekend with a friend. At this point in time I was dealing with the unknown, feeling lost and scared. . . . and he just left to have a fun filled weekend. Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting from him at this point in the game, yet it still bugged me he left for several days. Didn’t he care?
So this leads me to: How often do we think one thing. . . . worry about it, sometimes even obsess over it and the thought never reaches maturity as we feared. A wasted amount of time and energy spent on something that only puts undue stress on our well-being. Men are better about not going "there" - women seem to visit this locale often.
When Reid got into the car on Sunday, there was small talk followed by silence. Finally he looked over at me and asked how the breast was doing. At first I was surprised by his directness and I thought for a minute before responding. I could discuss the details or I could make light of the subject for the time being - so much was still up in the air.
So, I answered in a manner that he could relate - with humor - how was the breast doing??? "Still hanging," I replied.
I lost it. . . . . . I couldn't stop laughing. Reid sheepishly grinned and rocked back and forth (a sign that something is pretty funny). After surgery, Reid nicknamed me "uni-booby", which triggered more laughter at the times we needed it most. I honestly believe humor is as important to one's well-being as exercise and an apple a day.
Don't take any of our warped humor the wrong way - we could be depressed and sullen; however, we chose amusement to get us through the unknown. I wonder if Swiss Family Robinson, Tarzan, or Robinson Crusoe used humor in their unknown journey? I know those on Gilligan's Island did.
Reid reacted much differently than Jill. He asked questions, went to school and researched health textbooks about breast cancer. He would share with me what he discovered and offered suggestions. When I eat too much sugar he will remind me it's not healthy (cancer thrives on sugar). You know the medical industry keeps trying to cram down our throats the need for exercise and a healthy diet. Well, you know, they're right. And, I just heard on The Today Show that an apple a day is a deterrent for cancer (the peel is a must).
My son sat next to me during my chemo drip and witnessed the alliance among all patients. It was hard for him to sit still the entire time, but having him with me made me feel loved. We kidded around, even down to his discovery that one of the patients looked like Hitler, which led us to discussions on the dramedy, "Inglorious Bastards" with Brad Pitt. I didn't care for it, Danny and Reid enjoyed the gore. Again, men and women look at life so differently.
Although Reid is a comedian, he hides behind his humor. He is much like his dad and keeps his true feelings deep within. Occasionally I can get him to open up and when he does I make sure I listen.
Parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done and yet, my children are my biggest reward in life. It's not fair that they were dealt mom’s cancer card, too; however, my faith reminds me we won't be given more than we can handle. In as much as I HATE that Jill and Reid had to deal with my illness at such an early age, I pray they take with them that love and compassion for your fellow man is one of the most important character traits anyone can possess.
Sometimes I want to say to God, "Enough, already!", but I know in time he will let me know why, he will let us all know. All we have to do now is listen.
Next: The voice on the phone said Jill was being careflighted into Tyler.
Reid is 16 and is into music and his guitar. He practices his instrument as often as possible, so all of us at home have learned to block out the noise so we can pursue whatever it is we wish to do. This can be hard at times since Reid is into grunge. Danny and I wish that he would find more precedence in his education, but on the whole, he is a good guy with dreams of being a successful rock musician.
The day after I was diagnosed with cancer and awaiting to hear more on the plan of action, Reid left to spend the weekend with a friend. At this point in time I was dealing with the unknown, feeling lost and scared. . . . and he just left to have a fun filled weekend. Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting from him at this point in the game, yet it still bugged me he left for several days. Didn’t he care?
So this leads me to: How often do we think one thing. . . . worry about it, sometimes even obsess over it and the thought never reaches maturity as we feared. A wasted amount of time and energy spent on something that only puts undue stress on our well-being. Men are better about not going "there" - women seem to visit this locale often.
When Reid got into the car on Sunday, there was small talk followed by silence. Finally he looked over at me and asked how the breast was doing. At first I was surprised by his directness and I thought for a minute before responding. I could discuss the details or I could make light of the subject for the time being - so much was still up in the air.
So, I answered in a manner that he could relate - with humor - how was the breast doing??? "Still hanging," I replied.
I lost it. . . . . . I couldn't stop laughing. Reid sheepishly grinned and rocked back and forth (a sign that something is pretty funny). After surgery, Reid nicknamed me "uni-booby", which triggered more laughter at the times we needed it most. I honestly believe humor is as important to one's well-being as exercise and an apple a day.
Don't take any of our warped humor the wrong way - we could be depressed and sullen; however, we chose amusement to get us through the unknown. I wonder if Swiss Family Robinson, Tarzan, or Robinson Crusoe used humor in their unknown journey? I know those on Gilligan's Island did.
Reid reacted much differently than Jill. He asked questions, went to school and researched health textbooks about breast cancer. He would share with me what he discovered and offered suggestions. When I eat too much sugar he will remind me it's not healthy (cancer thrives on sugar). You know the medical industry keeps trying to cram down our throats the need for exercise and a healthy diet. Well, you know, they're right. And, I just heard on The Today Show that an apple a day is a deterrent for cancer (the peel is a must).
My son sat next to me during my chemo drip and witnessed the alliance among all patients. It was hard for him to sit still the entire time, but having him with me made me feel loved. We kidded around, even down to his discovery that one of the patients looked like Hitler, which led us to discussions on the dramedy, "Inglorious Bastards" with Brad Pitt. I didn't care for it, Danny and Reid enjoyed the gore. Again, men and women look at life so differently.
Although Reid is a comedian, he hides behind his humor. He is much like his dad and keeps his true feelings deep within. Occasionally I can get him to open up and when he does I make sure I listen.
Parenting is the hardest thing I've ever done and yet, my children are my biggest reward in life. It's not fair that they were dealt mom’s cancer card, too; however, my faith reminds me we won't be given more than we can handle. In as much as I HATE that Jill and Reid had to deal with my illness at such an early age, I pray they take with them that love and compassion for your fellow man is one of the most important character traits anyone can possess.
Sometimes I want to say to God, "Enough, already!", but I know in time he will let me know why, he will let us all know. All we have to do now is listen.
Next: The voice on the phone said Jill was being careflighted into Tyler.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Jill, in her own words, was freaked out.
My daughter of 17 years, speaks her mind whether it's been solicited or not! You must appreciate her honesty, although sometimes you want to strangle her.
For a year and a half before being diagnosed with breast cancer, I had not been myself. I was dealing with two teenagers who wanted their independency, yet were still our children needing direction. Hormones and emotions often raged our house and to make it worse, sibling rilvary was at its peak. Joy, joy, joy! I found parenting exhausting!
My husband is of the personality that allows things to fester before voicing his dislike - I think it's referred to as passive aggressive. Often he would let things ride that I found needing to be handled on the spot. In as much as we usually agree on morals and values the kids need to be taught, we at times, approach parenting differently. This is not good - both parents need to be in sync. . . .mixed signals are the wrong messages sent to your children.
Jill often tells me I need to get Danny under control, as she tells him I need to chill and breathe. She's right on some occasions. . . . on others, she is the one who needs to rethink her actions.
During the time leading up to my diagnosis, I had a lot on my plate. I started a new job that led me a direction I hadn't planned; however I was committed and worked my tail off. My place of employment had gone through strategic planning and set much needed and exciting goals for the organization. With this came a lot growing pains as new responsiblities were added to those involved. Change and transition is difficult to some and others welcome the challenge. . . . and I felt it all.
It became a daily routine to develop a headache and often they turned into migraines. I always felt like my brain was encumbered for some unknown reason and much later into the diagnosis, I learned my brain had indeed been on overload due to fighting the cancer on its own. My body tried desperately to tell me I was sick. . . .I wouldn't stop long enough to listen. I didn't want to disappoint anyone.
Sometimes I was scattered brained, forgetting silly things like a phone call or where I laid my glassses. I know all of us, expecially those in the 50+ category, have these experiences, but mine were more like "out of sight out of mind" forgetfulness. . . .maybe short-term memory not forming into long-term recall. Anyway the overdrive I found myself in was a form of self-survival. My body was trying to say something was wrong with me, but I refused to hear.
The human body is so complex and it's always working on something within, often on things the owner is not aware. Thus, my brain was desperately sending signals that my body has a foreign entity in existence and we must come together to fight full force in order to win.
If you're reading this, make time to get to know your body and listen to what it's saying to you.
What I love about my daughter is she is full of life. She's goal oriented at school and has high expectations for herself. Jill's learned to laugh at herself and not take herself too seriously. Most teens think of themselves as perfect and resent anything less brought to their attention. Jill will do well in life with this specific characteristic.
How many of us know of someone, friend or family member, that puts undue stress on themselves and those around them due to expecting perfection. They are the ones that find fault with many or think that they could have handled the project better. I know I've been guilty of such, but not anymore - it's a constant effort, but I'm now aware of the unserving behavior. I pray others will see how unserving it is - to themselves and those around them.
Jill at times resented my lack of energy and enthusiam when I returned home each day. I either brought home dinner or put something together quickly, to only retire to the bedroom shortly thereafter. Blindness to the fact didn't leave me as the most caring & devoted mother or wife.
Discussions with Jill became strained and I often dodged her dislikes, as she is one to share in great detail all which makes her unhappy. Our relationship was in jeopardy as I look back on it. Today I am happy to report we are closer than we ever have been. She comes to me in confidence and that is a huge reward to a parent who has a teenager. Do I feel blessed? Most definately!
When I was diagnosed, Jill confided she was freaked out about it. I noticed she withdrew from me even more and begrudged the extra work she had been delegated. I was diagnosed in early April and by summer she referred to herself as being a work monkey for the family. Truthfully, she wasn't given more than cleaning her room, the dishes and an occasional extra chore; however, to a teen with growing pains and pier pressures, my whole ordeal brought on resentment. Life is all about them, the teenager, and now mother is making it all about her. Resentment was her way of surviving mom's cancer.
After my surgery I stayed with my baby sister and her family (God bless them). My sister and her teenage daughter couldn't wait to see the results from the mascetomy. . . lack of tissue, huge horizontal scar, and the expander to assist with reconstructive surgery later. Both were the best caregivers.
Jill on the other hand wanted nothing to do with it. She would avoid me anytime I was dressing and I'm glad I didn't need to depend on her. It wasn't that she was self-centered, and I determined several months into my illness that she was only dealing with her own thoughts that mom might lose the battle. Any contact with the surgery would only remind her of this. Although she grumbled, a child never wishes to lose a parent.
She's coming around though - now she is feeling more confident I'm going to win this scrimmage with life. Just recently I was changing clothes and she walked in. Although I turned my back to her, I noticed her eyes traveled to the numerous markings that have been drawn on my body as radiation guides. Her silence spoke a thousand words.
She knows. Jill is aware I've been through hell and back. We don't have to talk about it if she prefers not to do so. She goes with me to treatments occasionally and sits in the main waiting room awaiting my return. . . . . yes, she knows, and I appreciate she is looking forward to my return.
Next: Humor gets you through anything!
For a year and a half before being diagnosed with breast cancer, I had not been myself. I was dealing with two teenagers who wanted their independency, yet were still our children needing direction. Hormones and emotions often raged our house and to make it worse, sibling rilvary was at its peak. Joy, joy, joy! I found parenting exhausting!
My husband is of the personality that allows things to fester before voicing his dislike - I think it's referred to as passive aggressive. Often he would let things ride that I found needing to be handled on the spot. In as much as we usually agree on morals and values the kids need to be taught, we at times, approach parenting differently. This is not good - both parents need to be in sync. . . .mixed signals are the wrong messages sent to your children.
Jill often tells me I need to get Danny under control, as she tells him I need to chill and breathe. She's right on some occasions. . . . on others, she is the one who needs to rethink her actions.
During the time leading up to my diagnosis, I had a lot on my plate. I started a new job that led me a direction I hadn't planned; however I was committed and worked my tail off. My place of employment had gone through strategic planning and set much needed and exciting goals for the organization. With this came a lot growing pains as new responsiblities were added to those involved. Change and transition is difficult to some and others welcome the challenge. . . . and I felt it all.
It became a daily routine to develop a headache and often they turned into migraines. I always felt like my brain was encumbered for some unknown reason and much later into the diagnosis, I learned my brain had indeed been on overload due to fighting the cancer on its own. My body tried desperately to tell me I was sick. . . .I wouldn't stop long enough to listen. I didn't want to disappoint anyone.
Sometimes I was scattered brained, forgetting silly things like a phone call or where I laid my glassses. I know all of us, expecially those in the 50+ category, have these experiences, but mine were more like "out of sight out of mind" forgetfulness. . . .maybe short-term memory not forming into long-term recall. Anyway the overdrive I found myself in was a form of self-survival. My body was trying to say something was wrong with me, but I refused to hear.
The human body is so complex and it's always working on something within, often on things the owner is not aware. Thus, my brain was desperately sending signals that my body has a foreign entity in existence and we must come together to fight full force in order to win.
If you're reading this, make time to get to know your body and listen to what it's saying to you.
What I love about my daughter is she is full of life. She's goal oriented at school and has high expectations for herself. Jill's learned to laugh at herself and not take herself too seriously. Most teens think of themselves as perfect and resent anything less brought to their attention. Jill will do well in life with this specific characteristic.
How many of us know of someone, friend or family member, that puts undue stress on themselves and those around them due to expecting perfection. They are the ones that find fault with many or think that they could have handled the project better. I know I've been guilty of such, but not anymore - it's a constant effort, but I'm now aware of the unserving behavior. I pray others will see how unserving it is - to themselves and those around them.
Jill at times resented my lack of energy and enthusiam when I returned home each day. I either brought home dinner or put something together quickly, to only retire to the bedroom shortly thereafter. Blindness to the fact didn't leave me as the most caring & devoted mother or wife.
Discussions with Jill became strained and I often dodged her dislikes, as she is one to share in great detail all which makes her unhappy. Our relationship was in jeopardy as I look back on it. Today I am happy to report we are closer than we ever have been. She comes to me in confidence and that is a huge reward to a parent who has a teenager. Do I feel blessed? Most definately!
When I was diagnosed, Jill confided she was freaked out about it. I noticed she withdrew from me even more and begrudged the extra work she had been delegated. I was diagnosed in early April and by summer she referred to herself as being a work monkey for the family. Truthfully, she wasn't given more than cleaning her room, the dishes and an occasional extra chore; however, to a teen with growing pains and pier pressures, my whole ordeal brought on resentment. Life is all about them, the teenager, and now mother is making it all about her. Resentment was her way of surviving mom's cancer.
After my surgery I stayed with my baby sister and her family (God bless them). My sister and her teenage daughter couldn't wait to see the results from the mascetomy. . . lack of tissue, huge horizontal scar, and the expander to assist with reconstructive surgery later. Both were the best caregivers.
Jill on the other hand wanted nothing to do with it. She would avoid me anytime I was dressing and I'm glad I didn't need to depend on her. It wasn't that she was self-centered, and I determined several months into my illness that she was only dealing with her own thoughts that mom might lose the battle. Any contact with the surgery would only remind her of this. Although she grumbled, a child never wishes to lose a parent.
She's coming around though - now she is feeling more confident I'm going to win this scrimmage with life. Just recently I was changing clothes and she walked in. Although I turned my back to her, I noticed her eyes traveled to the numerous markings that have been drawn on my body as radiation guides. Her silence spoke a thousand words.
She knows. Jill is aware I've been through hell and back. We don't have to talk about it if she prefers not to do so. She goes with me to treatments occasionally and sits in the main waiting room awaiting my return. . . . . yes, she knows, and I appreciate she is looking forward to my return.
Next: Humor gets you through anything!
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