Thursday, June 27, 2013

Remember Fabio?


Did I ever mention that I was once an active member of the Romance Writer’s of America?  I know right?  You had no idea I was someone of celebrity status.  I even completed a novel, which was submitted to several publishers, rewritten based on constructive criticism and then buried in a box somewhere and forgotten.  What I’m getting at is, at that time, a face graced the covers of most romance novels that was beyond gorgeous.  He was the Greek god of men, all chisseled and yummy, Michelangelo's David, a love starved housewife’s fantasy of all fantasies; he is Fabio Lanzoni.  To this day, even the name makes my heart skip a beat or two, and at my age, I can’t afford that kind of excitement anymore.  But that’s beside the point, and because I don’t take short cuts when telling a story --‘cause I don’t want to take the chance of omitting a whole lot of drama -- I have to take you around the world and back before making my point.   

I had my last CT scan and chest x-ray yesterday.  While sitting in my surgeon’s office waiting for him to enter and give me the news that 1) I will either be moving on to having the surgery that would fix me, or 2) they can’t fix me quite yet or perhaps never and I may have to have ongoing treatment to extend my life and/or to make me comfortable. 

So I wait, and wait…then in walks a young woman who introduces herself to me with a name I fail to remember.  I smile patiently and shake her hand (I think I shook her hand).  She sits down and asks me questions about my current meds.  I'm thinking, I was just in Dr. Picozzi’s office a week ago and they reviewed my meds which they have on the computer.  I’m frustrated but trying not to let it show.  She asks me how I'm doing.  Just fine, I answer.  She asks me where I live.  In Tacoma, I answer.  It’s all in the records!  We talk about Tacoma.  We talk about the exact location of my home and whether I walked, bussed or drove to my appointment.  I know these are questions she has to ask but frankly I want to know whether I'm going to have a chance at life, and her questions are making my bottom lip droop.  She is obviously stalling, and inside my spirits drop.  She pulls up the results of the blood draws I took only an hour before and went through them.  Then she brings up my CT scan and chatters some more, and seriously I can not recall the words that came out of her mouth because none of them sounded anything at all like all is clear and we will proceed with the surgery.  She clarifies that the tumor had shrunk slightly from the chemo.  Slightly?  Was slightly good enough?  My heart plummets.  I could barely speak these words. Will I be able to have the surgery?  She stands up ending what I feel has been an interrogation, and explains that she will need to review the CT scan with her boss (a.k.a. the surgeon), and will be back shortly.  It’s weird that your heart can continue to beat even when you feel that it has stopped completely.  She didn't  answer my question, which I thought I asked out loud.

So I wait. What seems like an hour, but in the real world is probably only a few short minutes, in walks the assistant and my doctor.  He smiles.  A lot.  He extends his hand to me and I grab hold, desparately, like I'm drowning and he's pulling me to safety.  I have to say he’s one of the most jovial doctors I’ve ever met (besides my wonderful Dr. Picozzi that is).  He sits down and his next words work magic on my heart like it’d just been resuscitated.  “So,” he says all happy-like.  “Looks like we’re ready for surgery.”  I’m not sure if that is an exact quote, but hey…it’s my best recall after just being shocked back into life.  I’m going to have the surgery.  He then shows me a picture of what my insides look like, said they will cut here, move something over there, wrap around here…um…let’s see…cut some vessels and rebuild them…(yikes!), whole thing will take about 8 hours.  Okay, now I’m back to being terrified, but in a good way because they are going to try and fix me.  I can still be fixed.

The doctor asks me if July 12th works for me, and I tell him yes, like I'd have something better to do than have a procedure that could save my life.  He smiles all nice and happy as if the surgery he’s going to perform on me is easy-breezy, which makes me feel better, and left the room. 

So there you have it.  Oh wait, there was actually a point to why I brought up all that romance stuff, and the great Fabio.  My doctor’s name is Flavio Rocha.  Yes, I have Dr. Picozzi, the pancreatic cancer rock star of oncology doctors, and Flavio Rocha, the Fabio of all surgeons because he's as skilled as Fabio is rock star gorgeous.  I’m in good hands guys.

Thanks for holding my hand over the last six months.  I couldn't have made it without you!

P.S. Sorry for making you read all of this.  LOL.  Not sorry. 

Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Remember Who You Are

I know the fear within you aches
It captivates your mind
But I know you have what it takes
Though you fear you're walking blind

But walking blinds a good thing
Walk by faith and not by sight
With faith you can conquer anything
But the void of faith is fright

Remember, you have nothing to fear
This battle is God's fight too
And He's never lost a fight, my dear
So why would he start with you?

Remember the Warrior you are
The leader of them all
God heard our war cries from afar
And now beside us he's fighting tall

God is with you now and tomorrow
And forever till forever's end
Please don't let life bring you sorrow
Because in God you've found a friend

Please listen to my words
Listen and hold them dear
God is Lord of lords
And with him, there's nothing to fear

Tuesday, June 18, 2013

A Little Bit More Detail About My Life - Monday, June 17, 2013

I had my last chemo infusion today.  Now I have to wait 9 days for my last CT-Scan on Wednesday to determine if the tumor has shrunken and whether it is now safe to proceed to surgery.  I’m not sure what I’m feeling right now; happy at the possibility of moving forward to the next step and a lot of scared stuff going on with moving on to the next step.  I’m getting ready to see what I’m made of.

I also have to talk about the pancreatic seminar and gala last Saturday and Sunday.  I was feeling pretty optimistic and looking forward to learning a bit more at the seminar about what’s happening to me and the surgery to come.  Dr. Picozzi, my doctor, whom I’ve learned is the rock star of doctors specializing in pancreatic cancer, was the first doctor introduced to speak.  He didn’t pull any punches.  He explained how the issue of pancreatic cancer was pretty daunting business.  I know he spoke to me over the last few months about statistics and survival rates but I don’t think I was listening closely. I just wanted him to hold my hand and assure me he was going to fix me up.  But I listened closely that day to everything he said.  This is what I heard:

·         Pancreatic cancer is the most difficult cancer to treat

·        Only 15% of pancreatic cancer patients are operable i.e. the other patents are either not operable because the blood vessels are wrapped around the tumor or that the tumor is sitting too close to the major blood vessels to allow access to the tumor.  The latter is where I’m at, which is why I’ve been undergoing chemo therapy the last 6 months to shrink the bastard.  On the good side, my chemo treatment seems to be winning this battle for me because the tumor is shrinking. 

·         25% of all operations for pancreatic surgery are successful in removing all the cancer. Shit!

I sat in my chair pretty straight backed, which is highly unusual for me because slumped is my usual style while pretending to listen, but this time I wanted to take everything in; to pay close attention.  And all the while, I felt ice creeping up my spine and wrapping around my heart; squeezing the hell out of it.  It hurt to breathe. Have you ever felt such a gripping and immobilizing fear?  I have, with Mom, and then Kenny, and again with Dad; at just the very thought of losing them.  And now it's with me again.

By the gala on Sunday, my mood had slipped into a ditch but I was relieved my sister Vickie and my niece Tamara were attending the event with me.  We were sitting at a table outside the dining room waiting for the doors to open, while enjoying hor dourves and beverage, when I looked to my left and saw we are sitting next to the In Memory Of Wall honoring all of those brave patients who didn’t survive, ah damn…my heart sunk even further. Just great.  I know you’re asking, why we didn’t just move.  To be honest, with all my wallowing, I just didn’t have the energy to find another table.   I have to say it…I couldn’t help wondering if my picture would be hanging up there next year.  I decided to forgo taking the group picture with the survivors, I just didn’t feel like I’d earned the right yet.  Man I was frickin’ downing in the black sea (I’m prone to a bit of melodrama at times, in case you haven’t figured that out already), but my sister and niece were laughing at silly stuff like I usually do, and commenting on the beautiful attire of the other guests, absorbed in the festivities around us in spite of my doldrums, which acted as my anchor of sorts.  I wanted to laugh with them but I just couldn’t seem to find any humor in anything at that moment. But they kept me grounded, cause at times I was just 2 seconds from running out into the halls and screaming at the top of my lungs, "Oh my God I have cancer!" Not cool.  

                                                                               My niece Tamara, sister Victoria, and me

I know I need to be more positive, but understand me when I say this:  considering what most cancer patients are dealing with and the fact that they haven’t taken an emotional and mental dive head first off the nearest bridge, we are making every effort to be positive and realistic every day.  You can be both you know and still be okay.

After the silent auction ended, the dining room opened and we found our seats right smack in the front like we were superstars or something.  That was nice.  Dr. Picozzi, was sitting at the table with Patrick Swayze’s wife, Lisa Swayze, who was our guest speaker.  Pretty cool.  My mood was starting to lift a bit.  My friend and colleague Kris and her husband soon joined us and I have to admit, my mood immediately shifted to a more positive place.  A short while later Dr. Picozzi stopped by our table and leaned forward to say, “You have inspired me.  Would you mind if I repeated something you said to me in my speech.”  Seriously?  How on earth could I possibly inspire this man?  Of course I told him I didn’t mind and was kind of curious as to what I could have said that would inspire anybody. I was crying me a river before he was even 5 minutes into the speech.  He talked about my “Circle of Love” which is how one of my colleagues described the posse that seems to always be accompanying me to my chemo appointments. He spoke about how important it is to be supported by family and friends through the cancer journey.  And it is a journey, no doubt about that.  I was so touched and blessed that I had been referred to such an amazing doctor by my friend Kris, and then later bamboozled into having him as my second opinion by my dear friend and colleague, Deborah.  Because my initial appointment had been with the University of Washington and after that one I was emotionally bereft and not looking to go over everything else again with another doctor.  My “Circle of Love” are without a doubt my champions.  So I left the pancreatic gala feeling so much more positive than when I got there.

If you have a family member that is going through hell right now, please stand by them.  Sometimes they will not be on their best behavior and you will probably suffer for it, but as hard as it is, don’t take it personally.  Because you love them so much, it will hurt you when they hurt.  Unfortunately there is no way around this.  On some days your loved one may say things about that stuff down deep that resides with their fears, and pain, and sadness and hopelessness…and you may feel yourself shutting down, and emotionally pulling away because let's face it, there is no pill to relieve the pain associated with watching someone go through this.  Don't let it happen.  This is what I felt and did when my brother was trying to talk to me about his impending death.  I never verbalized that he shouldn't talk about it, I just shut down in my own way, but he knew.  The thought of him dying was unbearable to me.  I'm still adjusting to the painful reality I can't pick up a phone and hear his voice.  Speaking soul deep does not take away from those times when they are more upbeat or mean they are giving up…it just means that they are human and stuff unsaid can rot the gut if left unspoken.  You may feel a strong desire to fix them by tying a string of heartfelt words together for instance, don't say things like that, stay positive, try harder, don't give up -- random hallmark words that should be left on cards where they belong, because it is not always necessary that you provide feed back or what is needed.  Sometimes we just need you to listen.  That’s all.  I’ve only just learned this myself.
Thanks for listening.

Sunday, June 16, 2013

Poem of the Day

This poem really moved me, because it reinforces what I've always felt.  It's not the disease or the treatment that will defeat.  It is the death of spirit.  Everybody out there fighting for life, keep fighting.   Easier said then done I know, because the fight can often be exhausting for sure.  But time is definitely something worth fighting for. 

The Strongest Girl I Ever Knew

In Loving Memory of Kelly Doe

She never got to dance,
Or go to her own Prom.
She never got the chance,
To forget where she came from.

She never got to kiss,
A man she idolized.
She never felt love's bliss,
'Cause she was paralyzed.

She never got to talk,
About love with a smile.
She never got to walk,
Down a Church's Aisle.

She never got to say,
Those precious words "I Do".
But she was far and away,
The strongest girl I ever knew.

She couldn't brush her hair,
Or put make up on her face.
She couldn't hold you dear,
Or give you a warm embrace.

She couldn't clasp her hands,
As if in the form of prayer.
She couldn't understand,
Why she was in a wheelchair.

She never showed her fears,
Or let you hear her cries.
She never showed the tears,
That fell down from her eyes.

She never looked for pity,
Or sympathy from you.
That's why she'll always be,
The strongest girl I ever knew.

By Ronnie Doe


Source: The Strongest Girl I Ever Knew, Inspirational Poem http://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/the-strongest-girl-i-ever-knew#ixzz2WP2NADw0
www.FamilyFriendPoems.com

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Rewind to Mother's Day 2013

I meant to post on Mother's Day but I got so caught up in having a fabulous day that I forgot.  But the good times are as important to note, if not more so, than the not-so-good times.  My day started with my son picking me up for brunch, which he'd planned at Anthony's on Commencement Bay.  He was late picking me up so by the time I heard his car pull up I'd already had two bowls of Cheerios, and was grumbling about how some people don't value time and how the day was already starting in the toilet.  However, when I heard the knock at the door my attitude did an about face.  I figured he'd probably put a lot of thought into making the day perfect so I decided to shove my negativity into a hole and put some effort into enjoying myself instead.  And you know what?  I had the best day ever.  We were seated at a table that gave me a clear view of the water, which always calms me and I ordered the Belgium Waffle with warm blueberry compote.  It was so delicious I didn't want it to end.  Then my son and I chatted -- he filled me in on what was going on in his life and I did the same.  We sat at the table and talked for about an hour or so after completing our meal.  It was really nice spending time with my oldest child.

When I thought the day couldn't get any better, Michael called me and I enjoyed chatting and laughing with him.  I went to sleep that night with a big dorky smile on my face.  It had truly been the best day I'd had in a very long time.  My children and granddaughter are the best part of my world and I thank God every day for allowing me to be momma to Tony and Michael, and Noni to my Diamond and last but definitely not least, the mother-in-law to my son's wife, a really good lady.  I am so proud of them!


My crew above - my oldest son, Tony, on my right, my darling Michael on my left, next to him my beautiful daughter-in-law and my Diamond in the front.  How lucky am I?




"Sons are the anchors of a mother's life."
~Sophocles

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Exercising Sucks!

I can not lie, I hate exercising.  I really do.  Always have.


Friday was a good day for a few laps around Wapato Park, the sun was low and my energy was high.  So I did a few stretching exercises, just enough so the other walkers would think I actually knew what I was doing, put on my ear phones, the kind with the huge bumpers covering my entire ear lobes and turned on my I-Pod to some Michael Jackson.  

As I turned the first corner I felt good, pumping my arms at my side to burn off more energy and keeping at a fairly quick pace.  It was about the third go ‘round when the sweat started pouring down my forehead and I felt energized about doing something good for my body.  I was working it.  Then….

Two young ladies in back of me, pushing a baby in a stroller, started to get the lead on me.  Now to my old eyes, they looked like they were moving in slow motion compared to my quick step.  Um…no.  They sped past without any effort AND they were chattering loud non stop – without any heavy breathing or panting that should have been caused by their pace.  Here's what I heard with earphone on mind you:

Lady pushing the baby stroller: “So anyway, I told him if he does it again he’s out on his ass.”

Walking partner wearing jeans, t-shirt and snappy boots with about a 3-4 inch heel.  “Girl, no you didn’t.  What did he say?”

Lady with baby: “Oh yes I did.  And he had the nerve to say he didn’t do nothing, that it wasn’t him…”

Snappy boot-wearing dresser:  “Ooooh Girrrrl! You know…”

But I didn’t hear what came after the ‘you know’.  My ears were starting to buzz as I put more effort into breathing and walking at the same time.  I tried to pass the ladies and the baby in the stroller as they all moved forward but it was taking everything I had and then some to catch up with them.  No kidding. Prior to running into them I actually thought I was having a good work out.  Geez.  Putting them out of my mind completely, I tried hard to just focus on what I was doing.   I turned my music up several notches and let Michael Jackson’s lyrics pump me up.

Gotta hide your inhibitions
Gotta let that fool loose deep inside your soul
Want to see an exhibition
Better do it now before you get to old
'Cause we're the party people night and day
Livin' crazy that's the only way…

I was just starting to get the groove and feel like I was something mighty when this old lady (older than me anyway) -- with a cane I might add, and what I assume to be her hubby passed by me.  She gave me that nice little old lady assuring smile and said, “Keep it up honey, you’re doing just fine.” Right.

I decided to call it quits and at the next ‘round about headed straight to my car.  I had to tell this story though before I headed out today.  And yeah – I’m going to Wapato Park.  I’m turning my music up really loud, hittin’ the path hard for, hopefully, six laps, without focusing on anything except my goal.  Wish me luck!

 P.S. I'm over dramatizing a bit about the old lady.  She didn't pass me up but she probably would have if I'd stuck around.  :)

“Think you won’t make a difference with one run? You won’t make any difference doing nothing.”

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The only way to finish is to start”

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Thursday, June 6, 2013

Welcome To My Life

I was born Angeline Inez Beck on June 23rd – you don’t need to know the year, in Abilene, Texas where the sun is unforgiving on most days, and the bugs are always hungry.  Mom and Dad seemed to  have been stationary in one place long enough to have at least two children before moving on, and there are eight of us kids. We were a military family.  My bro Kenny was born in Abilene a year after me.  I am an American of African descent – although my mom had a bit of Irish mixed in as well.  I am usually a good-natured person except for the times when I’m not.  I do have to admit to being a pessimist at birth and dabbling in optimism like a hobby of sorts.  I am not the warm fuzzy type although I will do anything for those in my world.  I will accept a hug but I have to be honest, they make me feel a bit uncomfortable.  Not sure why, it just is. I don’t particularly care for the use of endearments aimed at me unless they come from the lips of people I’ve called mom and dad.  The types of endearments that make me want to slap something include the following:  honey, love, darlin’, sweetie, dearie, baby doll -- the latter of which is completely off limits as mom called me that from time to time as a child.  I will accept being referred to as love as long as it is spoken with an English accent.  I will accept being referred to as darlin’ if we are dating and you pay for everything, otherwise don’t do it.  Some of the above are acceptable for a waiver depending on the degree of friendship and/or whether the endearment user is age appropriate which typically means 80-plus years of age.  All in all, I still cringe inside when I’m called anything other than my name, but I no longer get the urge to throw up.

I was the president of my sophomore class and varsity cheerleader in my junior and senior year in high school. My adulthood has been spent in corporate America where I've worked my butt off. That’s all that is needed for that phase of life. My favorite pie is cherry with or without ice cream.  My favorite cake is German Chocolate – it was my dear Kenny’s favorite as well.  My favorite color is red. I’m passionate about writing, although sadly it is a passion I have not indulged.  I am an avid reader of romance books with a bite, meaning a romantic-murder-mystery-somewhat humorous-paranormal-intrigue kind of storyline.  I must have it top heavy with respect to the romance angle.  I was married, divorced, and married and divorced again, and had two really handsome boys from the first go-around.  That’s all that needs to be said about that.
Let's see, an embarrassing moment would include meeting an underwriter for the first time as an insurance assistant on a new job, and as we were walking out of a restaurant I stepped over a vent in full force, and the full skirt I was wearing popped up like one of those huge golf umbrellas. I bent forward to protect my front, and could feel my skirt fluttering against the back of my head, in what probably looked like a really absurd Marilyn Monroe imitation.  Unfortunately for me, that morning I'd decided to wear my granny panties on the outside of my much-too-small pantyhose in order to keep the hose from shifting down. Yeah.
T. M. I.?  Probably.

I have cancer now but it is not who I am, it is what I am going through.  It takes hold sometimes though and when that happens and I look in the mirror at my spotty bald head, and my liquid eyes, and my ravaged fingernails – sometimes it’s all I see.  So I got up this morning and decided I needed to remind myself of who I am so the cancer doesn’t get the credit for becoming all that I am. 

So there you have it. 
Have a great day!