Posted on November 25, 2017
If Earl were here, he’d remind me that a month from today is Christmas. But he’s not. He’s in Chicago attending a funeral. The forty-four-year-old son of close friends died unexpectedly a week ago today.
In the usual scheme of things, parents are not meant to bury their children. Siblings are not meant to face old age with one missing. When this happen, the world seems skewed; and I can’t think of any other situation that’s sadder.
It offers a certain perspective regarding my current breast cancer situation. Yes, it was unexpected, but I’m still here. And regardless of what’s ahead, at least we have more time together.
My own sons belong to the same decade of life as the man who died. If it had been one of them, my heart would be screaming, “Not fair; not fair. Take me instead.”
Under such sad circumstances, I would have willingly traded places.
See more 10 Minutes in category Cancer, Things to Ponder
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Posted on November 24, 2017
In the end we ate Thanksgiving dinner at Bob Evan’s yesterday. It was easy, which counted for a lot under the circumstances.
We didn’t have to make conversation with other guests; we didn’t have to dress and bring a hostess gift; and we didn’t have a ton of dishes in the kitchen sink when the feast was over. The price was right too.
Hoping to avoid both the mid-day rush and the early evening onslaught, we arrived around 4 PM. There were plenty of empty tables, although most needed to be cleared. But a waitress found one for us, and we settled in. The menu offered turkey and dressing or ham or chicken fried steak as the entrée with three sides, unlimited bread, and dessert. A dollop of cranberry sauce was also included.
The service was erratic as other diners wandered in: one couple in their pajamas, an older man pushing a woman in a wheelchair, two men, a woman alone with a walker. I wondered what brought them all here, and I hoped that – like us – it was a personal choice and not their only alternative.
Truthfully, we had a miserable experience at this same Bob Evan’s three, maybe four, years ago and told the cashier we’d never come back. We hadn’t either. But of all the alternatives we considered, this seemed the best way to get stuffing, which is what I like most about the Thanksgiving meal. I ordered a double helping and was rewarded with four giant scoops of it.
With that Bob Evans redeemed itself, and I rated the day an 8.
See more 10 Minutes in category Cancer, Dining/Food, Me/Family, Special Events
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Posted on November 23, 2017
Today is Thanksgiving Day 2017, and I lay awake this morning thinking of what to be particularly thankful for.
How about the six weeks I spent with bronchitis which prevented Earl and me from visiting Mexico but still paying for the privilege because we didn’t cancel in time? Or the cancellation of two other trips? Or the skin cancer that left a four-inch incision as a precursor to the larger breast cancer incision now next to it?
Or the loss of a grade school girlfriend, the first of our group to die? Or the cancellation of our plans to build a house from scratch because I have this motto that “When it’s time to paint, it’s time to move.” This time we’re staying put.
I don’t believe I needed the object lessons inherent in any of these events. At my age, I’ve had ample opportunity to practice patience and acceptance. So what am I thankful for?
It’s not the events; it’s the people surrounding them: Earl, who believes I hung the moon. Kevin, with whom I’ve done marathons for over 35 years (He runs; I cheer.) Keith who shows up just when I need someone most. Their partners. Our extended families on both sides. And our friends.
Because our family is spread all over the country, our friends are the ones who pick up the day-to-day caring. Who encourage us. Who laugh and cry with us. Who are the siblings neither Earl nor I ever had.
I only hope to tell each of you in person how thankful I am for your presence in our lives. That would make this day a 9.
Posted on November 22, 2017
I love to ask questions. Who? What? Where? When? Why? and How? have been stalwart friends for years. But since my surgery, I’ve realized that it’s hard to ask the right questions when you don’t know what you don’t know.
I asked the doctor, “Can you remove the tumor?” What I should have asked was, “What’s involved in removing the tumor?” He answered the first question with a nod of his head, but gave no indication of the second.
I asked, “How long will it take?” It was all in an afternoon’s work on an outpatient basis. What I should have asked was: “What kind of restrictions will I have when I get home?” I didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to raise my right hand more than 90 degrees, that I couldn’t wash my hair because I couldn’t raise my right hand, or that dressing oneself would become an exercise in contortionism.
What I asked was: “How long will the drain be in?” And what I should have asked is, “What is the longest possible time the drain could be in?” The answer to the first question was couched in wishful thinking (“Oh, maybe the doctor will remove it at your next office visit.” ) while the answer to the second appears to be the reality. (“Up to a month.”)
I am still in the beginning stages of this health situation, but I’ve learned that nobody volunteers information – particularly unpleasant information – unless you ask for it directly.
Today was a 1 until the home care nurse came and fixed my bandages. Then it was a 4 until I got my hair washed at a salon. After my nap, it turned into an 8.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances, Cancer, Things to Ponder
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Posted on November 21, 2017
This blog isn’t about that time at the racetrack where you picked the winning horse on a feeling instead of studying the facts. It’s about breast cancer patients and posture.
I’ve worked with a trainer for years and still must remind myself to stand tall with shoulders back and down, chest out, and chin high. It’s even harder to do with a large incision on your right breast that extends to the back of your armpit. There’s a tendency to “hunch” for relief and protection.
I told SW, the nurse navigator, and said my solution was not to wear a bra so that I could hunch even better. She cut me off mid-sentence: “Now we have to have the bra discussion,” she said. First, not wearing a bra helps gravity’s pull but not you, the breast cancer patient. Bras provide support and help in standing tall. Because when it’s all over, you still want the posture your trainer worked hard for you to have. SW even gave me a variety of post-operative breast cancer bras to try. (Grist for a different blog)
The truth is that since my surgery I find myself unconsciously hunching over: at the table, at my computer, at my piano. Even with these special bras. It must be a natural tendency, but I’m working to avoid it. I imagine my back will also thank me down the road.
On a scale of 1 to 10, this was a 9. I will never list 10 until this all over. So 9 is good.
See more 10 Minutes in category Cancer
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Posted on November 20, 2017
Today was my first post-op visit with the physician who did my surgery last week. He is a matter-of-fact kind of guy, wastes no words, and is an authority on Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain, a general of the Civil War. I mention this last, because once he shared the medical news, that was how we really connected.
Earl is a Civil War buff too, and before we left the examining room Dr. R. invited him to join a local civil war group. So history brought my husband and my surgeon together as much as the cancer itself. Did I mention that Dr. R and Earl go to the same church?
Yeah, it’s spooky!
And the report? Stage 2B cancer with two lymph nodes out of eight involved. Still a long row to hoe, but one more piece of information to absorb and use. And because the drain that was inserted during the surgery isn’t ready to come out, we get to see Dr. R weekly for the near future.
Who knows what other connections we’ll unearth.
On a scale of 1 to 10, today was a 9. No nap, feeling perky. More tomorrow.
See more 10 Minutes in category Cancer, Small Town Life
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Posted on November 19, 2017
It’s been five days since my surgery. Yes, I’ve curtailed my activities as directed; but I’ve still managed to dress, make the bed, pick up the house (It’s not that heavy!), and generally move about in relative comfort. Without pain meds too.
I credit all those years I’ve gone to the gym, worked with a trainer, and mall walked regularly with my feeling as good as I do and being as flexible as I am. That is, until today.
I hit the proverbial wall. Woke up this morning stiff and sore, mostly because I’m consigned to sleeping in only one position due to the location of my surgery and the ever-present drain. My back is rebelling. My incision is offering sympathy pains, and the arm where the surgery was done is becoming tingly and numb.
I was warned about these latter symptoms, but at the time I was far more focused on the surgery and not the aftermath. I should have realized it’s the aftermath that gets tedious.
So I took a pain pill and spent most of the day sleeping. Asked Earl to wake me in time to see the sunset, which he did. I’m hoping today’s rest will result in tomorrow’s feeling chipper once more.
On a scale of 1 to ten, today was a 5.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances, Cancer
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Posted on November 18, 2017
In the almost six months since my last blog, cancer has come calling. I hope it finds me a formidable opponent, as I have no intention of letting the Big C have its way. In fact, calling it Big gives cancer too much power, so I’m referring to it as lower case c.
I’m not being flip or casual; this is serious business. But I believe a positive attitude, coupled with an appreciation of every day we have on this earth, is an important component to facing lower case c.
Long story short: I discovered a lump in my right armpit the middle of September; after a variety of tests it was determined to be cancerous; my surgery to remove it was this past Tuesday, November 14, and now I’m looking at several weeks of radiation that will start before the end of the year.
But that’s just an outline for what has been an amazing experience so far. It’s an experience that defies everything I ever thought about cancer and doctors and family and friends. So I plan to write about it. This is the start . . .
On a scale of 1 to 10, today was a 9.
See more 10 Minutes in category Cancer, Changing Scene
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Posted on April 23, 2017
It wasn’t his political opinions or his bravado that brought him down. Heck, it wasn’t even the complaints about and pay-offs for harassment. It was money, plain and simple.
When approximately fifty advertisers pulled their support for his program, Bill O’Reilly was done. Personally, I won’t miss him although I doubt he’ll be sidelined for long. Some other network will wrangle a deal with him and his no-spin zone.
I assume “no-spin” is code for straight talk. I’ve never really heard the term explained, although I did a cursory check on the Internet to see how it was used. Mostly I found disgruntled commenters complaining about the abundance of spin in the no-spin zone. But maybe they were liberals.
O’Reilly was a master of the use of statistics. He frequently said 85 percent of this or 63 percent of that felt a certain way. Most often, it was the same way he felt. I have no objection to using statistics – Two other women and I once wrote a book on the topic that was used as a college text — but I do object to their being pulled from thin air. O’Reilly never cited where his numbers came from.
He was remarkably glib with the spoken word, and at one time in his career urged letter-writers to be “pithy” if they hoped to be read on-air. Toward the end, pithy didn’t seem to matter as long as the comments enabled O’Reilly to critique the correspondent. He also deplored “pinheads,” whatever those are.
He had the ability to persuade candidates, activists, lawyers, judges, and just about anybody else in the public eye to come on his show although I’m not sure why. He rarely let any of them complete a sentence without interrupting. I promised myself if I ever ran for president I would decline his invitation.
And so one part of the nightly ritual at our home is changing. I’m not sure what Earl will do for the eight o’clock hour, but at least I can keep the doors to his office open. Thanks for that, Bill.
See more 10 Minutes in category Annoyances, Changing Scene, Special Events
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Posted on April 22, 2017
We’re almost to May, so most of the spring flowers have bloomed; and Old Man Winter is about to sneak off for good. He might have one or two more windy grumbles left, but that’s it. Flowers now rule the day.
Some people prefer the surprise of crocus or the yellow of daffodils. But not me. My favorite spring flower is the tulip. So last fall I planted almost 200 of them and am now marveling at their hardiness, gracefulness, and color.
I think part of their charm comes from first grade where Sister Mary What-Was-Her-Name taught the class a simple way to draw a tulip for our Moms for Mother’s Day. “Draw a giant letter U,” she said. Once we all complied, she gave the next instruction. “Now draw a W at the top of the U,” and she demonstrated on the blackboard. (I understand they don’t use blackboards anymore.) All we had to do was add a squiggly line for the stem, and we were done. I went home and drew tulips for days.
Granted, once the real ones have bloomed you must wait until the stems and leaves turn brown and soggy before cutting them off. Granted, spent tulips get in the way of mulching and other planting. And, granted, that was never a problem with the paper kind.
Still, I wouldn’t trade today.
See more 10 Minutes in category Flora/Fauna, Nostalgia
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