One In A Million You

THIS POST WAS WRITTEN TWO SATURDAYS AGO.  LOTS HAS HAPPENED SINCE THEN WHICH I WILL SHARE IN ANOTHER POST SOON. 

 

 

Saturday found me at Wapato Park doing my thing while enjoying simple pleasures like the sun glistening off the lake and the ducks gliding across the water without a care, and the folks walking their dogs -- I hate it when I come across big piles of poop from those damn big dogs and careless don't-give-a-damn owners though. It's nasty.  But I love the feel of the sun on my skin and my most enjoyable glee, is that I'm even back to walking -- with a hitch in my giddyup I might add.  Last year I didn't even know if I'd still be a member of the living and thriving by this time and yet here I be. I've still got breast cancer, and I'm still a stage 4 pancreatic cancer patient with metastasis to the liver but today I'm alive and I'm not in pain and I'm still able to participate in my life. Today I have a reason to smile.  A lot.  Hey, I'm heading off to Mexico this Sunday.  What can I say? I'm blessed!  I'm enjoying the world around me and last but not least -- I still get to be a pain in the collective butts of my family and friends when I need to be ornery.  And on some days -- chuckle, chuckle -- I can do ornery like nobody's business.

                                          L to R - Lisa, my sister, Tamara, my niece, Tony,
                                          me and my nephew Verdel
                                   

While doing my laps around the lake, thoughts tumble across my mind, flashing through the stages of my life like one of those old movie reels, with the past and the present playing a game of hopscotch in my head.  Are you familiar with the song One In A Million by Larry Graham from the group Graham Central Station?  Yep, that's one of those jams from my 70's funk days.  I'm sure the song was written with a love story in mind, but on Saturday, for me, it brought to mind my boys, and my granddaughter and everybody and everyone in my life who has shown me some love over the past year. 

While listening to my ipod and the lyrics of the song, I thought about my sons and their births, and this one time I recalled my oldest - at 2 months - stretching his little body after napping.  It's funny how one tiny little memory will intrude out of the blue like that.  He looked so sweet and tiny.  He's a grown man now, who stands head and shoulders over me -- so kind hearted and true -- but there are times when he'll yawn and stretch and I'll see the face of that little baby he was and it'll make my heart long for just a moment from the past and at the same time, yes I get melancholy (just a little), I can't help but wonder about a future I may not be a part of.   My first born is my one in a million.

                                          L to R - Tony, me, Michael, daughter-in-law Melissa,
                                          and in the front is my Diamond.


A one in a million, chance of a lifetime,
And life showed compassion,
And sent to me a stroke of love called you,
A one in a million you

When my youngest son was born I'll never forget how huge and penetrating his eyes were.  After his birth I remember the nurse cleaned him up and then swaddled him in a blanket cocoon-like and laid him in the bassinet beside my bed.  As she went about her business, she shrieked drawing my attention and said,  "Oh geez it looks like he's following me around the room with those big eyes of his."  Then she shook it off as if absurd and said somewhat doubtfully.  "His eyes are not yet cleared so he can't really see anything."  Hmmm...I still believe my baby boy could see exactly what he wanted to see.  And as a young boy, and as an adult, he's always seen just that much more than everybody else.  My son, my one in a million you.


But one day the sun it came a'shinin' through,
The rain had stopped, and the skies were blue,
And oh, what a revelation, to see,
Someone was saying "I love you" to me,

                                  My Diamond.

My granddaughter is my mini me.  She's got a dynamic personality with a sense of humor that is a culmination of me and her dad's ridiculousness -- and I mean that in the most complimentary of ways, with her mama's sharp wit and beauty.  When I think of my granddaughter I can't help but smile.  She is my joy, my precious jewel, my Diamond. When my son told me they were naming their first and only child Diamond, I was horrified. Stripper poles in raunchy smoked filled clubs came to mind with drunks trying to put dollar bills where they didn't belong.  But now, I can't imagine this precious gem as anything but a Diamond.  That's my girl!  One in a million!

A one in a million, chance of a lifetime,
And life, showed compassion,
And sent to me, a stroke of love called you...
A one in a million you, a one in a million.....you.

As my feet propelled me around the park, my mind continued to absorb everything that came forward -- a cacophony of thoughts and memories making noise.  I thought of all my colleagues and friends -- who I continue to give many props -- who've carried me over this past year taking me to chemo appointments, moving me with inspiration and love, and just being available to me.  All are my peeps and in my opinion, they are one in a million folks.  I'm really grateful for each and every one of them.

                                          Me and my friend, Jennifer



A one in a million you...
  

                       L to R my sister Vickie, me and my niece Megan.

I think you can either allow yourself to get carried away by life or taken on the journey of a lifetime.  I'm shooting for the latter and stubbornly enjoying each day as if presented to me on a platter of gold. Tony asked me one day if I was happy.  I told him I was and felt pretty confident I was speaking the truth. I have my down days but who doesn't when trying to walk through life with what feels at times like a damn elephant is sitting on your back.  Sadly, all of my online friends fighting this battle know exactly what I'm talking about.  I'm not happy with cancer and chemo and my prognosis and I'd be a big fat liar if I said I was. BUT in spite of cancer, I'm happy with my life and the really special folks that share it with me.

                                                     My peeps

                                       My best friend, Mary and me on the right

                                        Mary and hubby, Greg

Enjoy my song choice and take care of you!  In my humble opinion, you are all One In A Million!



"To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die."
Thomas Campbell


 

"Happy"

It's Sunday, I'm feeling particularly good today listening to the rain playing against the window as if it can't decide whether it wants to present itself as a downpour or a misty tease.  I love days like this, where sitting in front of a fire reading a good book -- oops, don't have a fireplace handy right now so that's out -- or just being lazy in bed all toasty warm while chilly temperatures are playing outside,  seems like the perfect thing to be doing at any given moment.  I'm thinking about jumping into my car and heading to the store for some popcorn and then watching a couple of movies I picked up today, but again...I'm feeling so lackadaisical right now I can't even seem to get the motivation to lift my butt up from the chair. 

Anyway, let me just move forward with an quick update.  Chemo last Monday came and went and to be honest I've actually been doing pretty good.  I do have to say, and I'm not sure if this is normal, but it's getting to the point where just thinking about chemo -- checking into "the room", getting plugged in with blood drawn and finally having the drugs pumping through my body, causes me to become extremely nauseous. I'm now even having a difficult time eating anything at all while sitting in "the room" during the process because of the nasty feeling I get in the pit of my stomach which occurs before the chemo is even administered.  I cringe just thinking about it. To be honest, I can actually feel it coming on the morning of the momentous event.  I know it's my mind playing with me but it feels real all the same.  On another note, my doctor had informed me that February 17th was my last treatment until I returned from Mexico but he mistakenly thought my trip was earlier in March instead of the end of the month.  Shoot!  So, it looks like I will be having treatment March 3rd along with a CT scan and also on March 17th.  I'll be recovering from the effects of chemo just in time to fly off to sunny Mexico.  But hey...you know what?  What do I have to complain about this La Dama is going to Mexico!  As I've said, in this moment, I'm good and and can't fuss too much -- although I do because I'm wired to whine.  Okay, so that's all I've got for now. 

So listen, I was driving in my car the other day and this song came on the radio called "Happy".  It got my toes to tapping, my fingers snapping and my head a bobbing so I wanted to share the attached clip with you.  I hope it comes through on your cell.  It's okay to be silly for a minute, to completely lose yourself in this catchy beat! Whatever you're going through, however you're feeling about life and it's role in yours -- claim your piece of happy in this moment right now, and have a really wonderful week. 

Hey this song is for all of us so don't hold back -- shout it out so the neighbors can hear you!  Because...?

You don't develop courage by being happy in your relationships everyday. You develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.

Epicurus

Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/e/epicurus119456.html#hwp9xyoWL54rZcej.99

"...I’m happy
Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof
Because I’m happy
Clap along if you feel like happiness is the truth
Because I’m happy
Clap along if you know what happiness is to you
Because I’m happy
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do

Here come bad news talking this and that, yeah,
Well, give me all you got, and don’t hold back, yeah,
Well, I should probably warn you I’ll be just fine, yeah,
No offense to you, don’t waste your time
Here’s why

Because I'm Happy!"

You don't develop courage by being happy in your relationships everyday. You develop it by surviving difficult times and challenging adversity.

Epicurus

 

"She"

I have always been a fan of abstract art and I don't buy anything that doesn't move me.  The great Picasso is my favorite of course.  My eyes welled up when I first viewed this abstract painting which is appropriately titled "She".  Wasn't sure why at the time, but now I get it. For me, "She" represents that indomitable spirit I recognized in my mom, who was a force of nature to me.  A woman of few words, but with the intent to speak volumes about all the things that should matter.  I mattered to her even when I may not have always felt I deserved to, for instance the second time I totaled the family car. Mom was powerful by being subtle and awesome just by the very nature of her being.  I didn't truly appreciate or understand all that she was when she was with us.  To me then, she was just my beautiful mom.  But I've said it before, and I'll probably have this reckoning a million more times before meeting my maker, hindsight is a butt kicker.  What I know now, I wish I'd recognized then and told her so.  The strengths I so valued in my mom may just be the strengths I've acquired from her, through nurturing, love and by her understanding of the simplistic nature of her daughter, which now gives me the courage to deal with my life as it has become after cancer, because I am a part of this woman I called mom.  Thank you mom.  My heart aches with every day you are missing from my life.  I love you always!

"She" are the women I've met in my life who've nourished my soul by empowering me, by believing in me, by sustaining me when I needed it before and after being diagnosed.  Incredibly motivating and spirited women like my sister who gave me a place to land when the cancer diagnosis had me emotionally airborne, and my niece who has always given me a reason to smile, and my best friend who keeps me grounded so I don't float off into the sunset, and even the women I've "met" online --  these women of "She" who are brave and strong and courageous with the same indomitable spirit I recognized in my mother.  Due to our intertwining paths, I have become a part of these women.

"She" also includes men I know and those I've "met" online who are strong in courage, and compassionate and empathetic and supportive and kind, men whose lives have been touched by cancer, men who may have been influenced and encouraged by the incredible women in their own lives.  Men of "She" -- yeah, that fits. I am happy to call these men brothers.

"She" is the grit in me.  It's that one thing that lets me know I can do anything that has to be done one more time if necessary, and then again and again if I have to. I will need this grit and more when chemo becomes a drag on me body and soul.

The thing I like about abstract art is that it changes every time I look at it, which at any given time, probably has something to do with the emotional static in my life; at the same time, it allows me to find exactly what I need from a creation without the influence or the ideals of anyone or anything else.  My desires allow me to find what I need to see at just a time in my life when I need to see it.

So yes, I got all of this out of one really extraordinary painting by Elizabeth Forest, but then I pride myself on being slightly off track.  It's the artiste in me.  "Elizabeth’s Canvas is a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization that empowers cancer patients and survivors through the creative process."   They allow self-expression through the arts, which to me is great therapy without having to sit on a couch with the clock ticking away while talking through my childhood woes.  The website is worth checking out -- http://www.elizabethscanvas.org/

In addition to my love of artwork that is intriguing and unique, my own personal creative outlet has always been my love of the written word.  Through self expression, writing allows me to shout out loud emotionally if that's what I need to do, creating a peacefulness down deep, which allows me to pause during chaos so I can catch my breath, and heal.

To all of you out there, I hope blogging, or art or whatever gives you peace during this journey, has helped find your center -- a creative outlet for your own healing.  Take care of you.


“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It's when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.
- Atticus Finch”
― Harper Lee, To Kill a Mockingbird 

CHEMO 7 of 8 - Quick Update

I wanted so badly to play hooky from chemo this past Monday.  I thought of all kinds of diabolical lies I could tell my doctor to get out of it from being snowed in to being struck with the bubonic plague. I just wasn't feeling the whole process of sitting in that chair, being attached by all the tubes and having that poison dripping into my body and then starting all over again with the nasty side affects (wah!).  But, I did it -- got on that damn bus to Seattle like a good gal, made it to my appointment and sat in that damn chair for 6 damn hours.  

To my absolute joy, everything went according to plan. The nurse didn't have to pick and poke at me or have me reclined all the way back in the chair with one arm up and one down to get a good blood draw -- nope, my blood flowed like the Nile. My tongue didn't even swell this time from the side affect of one of the first drugs they usually put in the IV.  Yea!

By Tuesday, all side affects from chemo were at a low roar -- no bone crushing exhaustion and only mild nausea.  By Wednesday, my energy level was hanging in with me and after a quick drive to Virginia Mason in Federal Way to have my fanny pack detached from my body -- this is the bag I have to wear that contains the drug 5FU which is automatically administered every hour into my port for two days after my infusion -- I was ready to boogie.  This week I’ve been able to get up in the morning and hit the floor running – well, walking really fast.  I've been taking walks around the mall – stopping in at most of the jewelry stores along the way for a quick look-see.  Then I walk from one end of the mall to the other twice to get my heart pumping.  Today, on the way home from the mall, I stopped at Fred Meyer grocers for some vittles, took them home then headed out again for a little R&R at the Muckleshoot Casino – yeah you heard me right.  If you happen to have been there at the same time as I was, I was the woman with the funny hat on weeping into my empty wallet.  Oh well, it was fun to be out and about.

I received some very good news from my doctor on Monday.  I have one more Chemo infusion to go on February 17^th and then I get a month and ½ break so I can get my body in shape for my trip to Mexico. When I return from Mexico they will do a CT Scan to make sure the tumors aren't misbehaving and then I’ll resume infusions and take another break for my Hawaii trip.  All and all, I think I will be connected to Virginia Mason’s oncology department by an invisible umbilical cord for infusions for the duration of my life to keep the tumors from growing and multiplying.  But as long as I can get a break from the infusion lab from time to time this may be something I can learn to live with.  To be honest, there are not a whole heck of a lot of other choices I have in the matter.

Okay, so tomorrow and Sunday I plan to head to the gym to get some real exercise on the elliptical and by Monday any other side affects resulting from this last chemo treatment should have dissipated.  I hope. I just have to play this thing through from moment to moment, day by day.

Well, I promised to keep this update short and sweet because seriously, there's not a whole lot more that needs to be said.  For all of you out there going through your own trials and tribulations please accept from me this sincere faraway hug.  We're in this together.  Take good care of yourselves!!

“Let the darkness find you if it must. Throw off the quick and tempting escapes, and seek help only from those who would teach you to grow, feed your soul, embrace your heart, but would not steal away your journey.”
― Jennifer DeLucy

Terminal. Not Dead.

Can we talk about the elephant in the room?  Terminal illness.  Wrapping my mind around a “terminal” diagnosis messes with my head, and is a ridiculous waste of my time, which of course is always the case when trying to make sense out of the nonsensical.  Like salt on an opened wound, I actually had the unmitigated gall to look the word up in the dictionary:  “terminal illness, an advanced stage of a disease with an unfavorable prognosis and no known cure.” Damn. 

I’ve done the unforgivable, I’ve given the word power and allowed it access inside my head where it could metastasize like the cancer.  That won’t do.  I mentioned in a previous post about my favorite saying from the movie Shawshank Redemption, “Get busy living, or get busy dying” well, I thought I’d made my peace on that issue but obviously not.  I have to be honest with myself first and foremost, since the day I was told the cancer had spread to my liver I frickin’ stuck my head in the sand.  My situation seemed hopeless. I pretty much felt as if the business of living and dying was being taken out of my hands. No seriously. I stopped working out at the gym.  I stopped walking regularly at my favorite park.  I pulled further into myself.  Crap. At some point over the last few weeks I turned left when I should have turned right and ended up at the in-between place.  On Pause.  I’ve been subconsciously…consciously…whatever… preparing for the grand exodus. And that just will not do for me.  I will not live my life in limbo.  I don’t know what tomorrow or the next week will bring, nobody does, and that’s why spending my today's in motion is so critically important. 

Terminal does not have to mean today. Today I’m good.  I am feeling the coolness from the weather on my skin today.  Today my butt will be in the gym, pumping my legs on the elliptical, wiping sweat from my forehead like the other club members, listening to my IPOD while mouthing the words to Destiny Child's Bootylicious.  Today I’m thinking about my plans in the near future for Mexico and Hawaii.  I’m breathing today.  I’m not in pain today. I’m not exhausted yet. The really good news is, although I woke up with a bloody nose this morning – compliments of chemo – the other ugly side affects are pretty much nonexistent.  And, the side affect caused by one of the chemo drugs that keeps me from consuming anything cold…yeah, gone…so guess where I’m going today?  Yep – heading to Baskin-Robbins for the biggest banana split I can get from their 31 flavors -- yum!  After my work out of course. One thing I will not be doing today?  Watching guys in tight pants chase other guys down a field because one of the guys has an oblong ball that he doesn't want to share with the other fellas.  No sports for me today...Nada!  

The statistics for pancreatic cancer are nothing to write home to momma about.  The statistics on mortality rate for pancreatic cancer that has metastasized is pretty F*#ked up.  The statistics for pancreatic cancer with metastasis and breast cancer on the side should be sealed in an envelope and never opened. My point, I know the deal and it’s pretty lousy but how I choose to move forward is on me.  My doctor can’t tell me how to live the rest of my life.  My family can’t show me how to do it.  My friends can’t advise me on this.  In this, it's all me.  Hell, most people are trying to find their own way to navigate through life’s playground.  But what I do know is I cannot allow the grim statistics or tags attached to my illness determine how I spend the precious moments I have to live.  If I have anything still in my control, it’s that.  I’m terminal, not dead.

Whew! So now we’ve dealt with the big fat elephant in the room, and reiterated the fact that cancer is not our friend.  But do you know what really pisses me off? The fact that there are children and young adults having to deal with this shit!  It’s just wrong on so many levels. So here’s me pulling my head out of my butt and focusing on something other than myself.  In support of my friend Karen, who is a volunteer for The Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's (LLS) Team In Training, I ask that you please check out her website and donate if you can. It is a very worthy cause with the goal of  finding a cure for blood cancers. http://pages.teamintraining.org/wa/nikewhlf14/khammersmi.    

Like Churchill said, never give in!

Sir Winston Churchill

Never give in. Never. Never. Never. Never.
If you're going through hell, keep going.
The pessimist sees difficulty in every opportunity. The optimist sees the opportunity in every difficulty.