So you are newly married. When you arrive home from a fantastic honeymoon you and your knight in shining armour begin house hunting. Soon you find the perfect house. It is a darling little farm house with a small garden. You can absolutely picture you and your stud-muffin, pookie shmookie, honey pumpkin, living there forever and ever. Every day you will rise, and the smell of fresh baked bread will fill your home, and you will have 3 beautiful kids, and you will be out early tending to your garden full of fresh vegetables and magnificent flowers that you will cut daily for the vase in the center of your kitchen table.

WAIT! WHAT WAS THAT?! A ANT? You follow it to a small hole in the wall and discover all his little ant friends…so you call the “ant guy” and he quickly resolves your ant problem. So you return to your kitchen where you have spent the day canning peaches…huge delicious peaches, and you feel a drop of water hit the top of your head. Oh no…not the plumbing…oh yes, the plumbing. So you call the “pipe guy” and he repairs your pipes and life is good again. Good grief, what is that smell? Someone needs to find where that smell is coming from. So you send your oldest child, a son, his name is…Jethro…after your husband’s great great grandfather’s brother… to scout out the smell. During his quest he finds black mold…asbestos..and lead paint. He was able to identify all these things because he is home schooled. So you call the “mold, asbestos and lead paint guy” and he tells you that your home must be gutted. A tear slowly slides down your cheek but you know he is right. In order for your family to survive and be healthy your house has to be gutted.

It is hard to believe. You never thought, after 20 years, you would be dealing with this. So you call the “home cleaner outer guy” and he takes the house apart. You turn your head because it is too hard to watch…in fact, you leave, using your free Mileage Plus tickets, and you take your kids to a dude ranch in Montana and you spend some time there…roasting marshmallows… When you come home, you can’t believe your eyes. Your farmhouse is more beautiful than ever. There is fresh lead free paint, new windows that let in more light, and everything inside is new except for two hand made chairs that you received as a wedding gift. The builder thought to leave them there just to remind you of how you felt when you were first married. That night, as you lie in bed, you realize that you are grateful, and though it was hard to watch your house torn up…the result is something far more beautiful.

If hope was something tangible, something you could see with your eyes, what would it look like to you? Would it be “a ray” or “a flicker”…would it “float”…would it possibly look like a diamond?

What would hope look like to you?

I have been hoping for a little bitty break from life lessons. Although, at last check, my blood counts were ok…except my white count that is 19 and it should be 46. I am feeling very fatigued and finding it hard to…well…do anything. A new round of life lessons has begun. This one, for me, is much more difficult than the cancer. This one involves my heart. I cannot joke about this one..it’s raw and fresh and very real. I have cried buckets of tears in the last week. I cried during my daughter’s Dr.’s appointment this morning, I cried at the coffee drive thru, I cry on the phone, in the shower, while I make dinner. I physically ache…but I know these things happen for a reason. My heart is open to the lessons that are waiting for me.

My puffy ankle has an appointment at the Dr. on Thursday and again on Friday. I have to go with her because she really doesn’t like going to the Dr. alone. For the past few months she has been feeling bloated and uncomfortable. She dug around on the internet and tried a few home remedies, but they just haven’t worked for her. She has even given support garments a try and they just…well I don’t want to embarrass her…they cause her to have a little muffin top just below the knee…she really doesn’t want anyone to know about that…she’s a bit self-conscious. We are hoping that the Dr. will prescribe a little massage as a cure for her “puffiness”. An ankle can dream can’t she?

This is how I feel today. I don’t feel “smiley” but I am going to choose to smile today…I am going to try and smile a lot…if you see me, please don’t be creeped out.

And what is the story behind this photo?

I am sorry I haven’t written in a few days. I had an appointment with the Lymphedema therapist. Her name was MaryAnne and I really liked her. In fact she was so easy to talk to and I felt so comfortable that I probably said more than I should. Sorry MaryAnne. I didn’t mean to go on and on the way I did. On Thursday we discussed Lymphedma and lymph nodes and how the lymph system works and where it drains and why it’s so important and where your lymph nodes are. (Homeschooling moms…I will let you explain where the nodes are to your kids…the posters are rather graphic if you know what I mean. I don’t want to be the person that causes you to have to answer “those” questions). Then Friday I went to a follow-up appointment where I talked some more (again I am so sorry) and received my first lymphatic massage. It was great. In between all that I went to lunch with mom, shopped at Trader Joes, talked to the new owner of my green Jeep (which is another story for another day) drove into the old neighborhood and was invited to walk through the house I grew up in, ran into my friend Natalie (Grant) who’s family still lives in the hood, and while chatting with her, her sister Allison drove up (we reminisced about dancing to Elton John), then her dad and then her mom and it was so great seeing everyone. It was all so unplanned but it worked out so well. Mom made a great quiche and my brother came over and we talked and hugged (also good for the lymph system) and then mom and dad and I broke out the reel to reel tape recorder and listened to me as a 11 year old…interviewing Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger and Spiro Agnew…singing John Denver , pretending I was married to Lee Majors and singing Jingle Bells like Alvin and the Chipmunks.

Whew, all of a sudden I am very tired. Thankful tomorrow is Saturday.

Motherhood…the most difficult…most wonderful job known to man…oops to women!

Happy Mother’s Day

One of reasons for this blog is to give a voice to those who have cancer and are pushing through treatment, big emotions, even bigger questions, and life in general.

Another reason for this blog is to give some insight into this crazy world of cancer for those who have not experienced it but know and love someone who has or is. And finally, it’s a reason for me to feel like I am actually doing something for man or woman kind while sitting in my pajamas eating scones and drinking coffee.

As I have mentioned before, I am taking a medicine called Xeloda. Xeloda has a myriad of side effects (MYRIAD:[mir-ee-uhd] –noun

1. a very great or indefinitely great number of persons or things.) that I refuse to look up on the computer as I will scare myself silly… so I will avoid that and instead make myself sound intelligent by posting the definition of myriad.

One of these “things” is that your fingertips, toes and heels peel. This is yucky.  YUCKY[yuhk-ee] –adjective, yuck·i·er, yuck·i·est. Slang .thoroughly unappetizing, disgusting, or repugnant

Another thing that peels is a daughter who has only had her license for a few weeks and who is panicking because she wanted to leave two minutes ago so she could drop off her pesky little brother and his friend at school and get herself to school so that she can maximize the three minutes she has to talk with her best friend before the bell rings…so she backs out of the driveway like Jack Bauer, spins the car around and peels out of the culdesac, tires squealing leaving behind a little tread and some smoke. Oh my mother’s heart! Although I did chuckle a little at her mad skills..but not until after I sent her a text telling her that if she ever did that again I would take the keys away! That should solve it don’t you think?

“Hey Laurie, what did you do today?” Well, except for the part where my daughter called from the school in intense pain, and I rushed her to the Dr. who examined her as I wiped away her tears… and the baffled Dr. headed to her office to call another Dr. as my daughter’s tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh mom, it hurts, you have to do something for the pain”…which lead to a prescription for a muscle relaxer (which I am going to take) which then lead to a call to her best friend during which she laughed and laughed showing no signs of pain whatsoever..realizing then that it was just a charlie horse, she went back to school freeing me up to go home and vacuum up all this dog hair.

The end

This may not be one of the funniest blogs I have written, but considering I have kinda committed myself to telling the “true story”…I guess it needs to be said. Holy smoke…here I go…uhhhhh…ok…hmmm… 21 years ago I married the love of my life. We were friends for years before we even began to date. To me he was Superman…still is actually. I love him.

Life started with a house remodel aka “hell”. The remodel was followed by a miscarriage, job loss, and the birth of our first child, a daughter, born with Autism. This was followed soon after by a move to a secluded island where resources were few. Child #2 arrived and motherhood, sleep deprivation, seclusion and Autism collided. The perfect storm was just beginning.

Another move was made. A move designed to provide support and education for a child who struggled through every day and a mom who knew she was unable to do this all on her own. Though the move was complicated and difficult, it seemed that things would soon be looking up. Life was about simply surviving at this point. In an attempt to survive, I thought it would be a good decision to check on my own health. There was no such thing as “me time” but somehow I found a few fleeting moments to see the Dr.

They found a spec on my mammogram..that turned out to be cancer which turned into surgery and recovery. Now motherhood, sleep deprivation,Autism, school and Breast Cancer collided.

The following few years were a battle. I was angry and I felt helpless and exhausted. Autism was not understood then the way that it is now. My days were spent fighting and advocating for my daughter only to be told I was crazy. It felt as if I was climbing a mountain of sand.

With the help of several Dr.’s, a Neuropshchologist, a School Advocate, and a few friends, we began to make headway.

Backache? Why wouldn’t I have a backache? I am in my 40’s and life is full of reasons for a backache. My reason though was Stage 4 Breast to Bone cancer. You know the rest.

Cancer gives you many reasons and lots of time to reflect on life. This, oddly enough, I see as a blessing. Life has been complicated. For some reason we go into this thing expecting the “white picket fence”.

So right now I want to say to my Superman husband that I am sorry. In an effort to “survive” I was not the wife I wanted to be. I guess you could say that to you I was “Lois Lame”.

You are still my Superman…minus the tights…although I think I have had a glimpse the cape on occasion.

For the many times you have stopped the oncoming train, and kept our planet safe from harm..I thank you.

I love the show Deadliest Catch. Today I “caught” a glimpse of Nick Mavar ( the guy farthest to your left) while I was at the grocery store. More than a glimpse actually…several glimpses if you must know.

He lives here in town. Our town is pretty small so you would think that after living here 12 years I would would have seen him around. Nope…today was the first time.

I am so proud of my daughter. I don’t think I say that often enough, but these are the teenage years and they don’t often do things to make you proud of them…there, I feel less guilty. But today I was very proud of her.

She has had her license now for a few weeks and has been doing very well. She drives her brother to school every morning and I think they drive off with big smiles on their faces amazed at the fact that they in the car together, going somewhere without their parents. I wonder what they say to each other. Probably something like, “Can you believe that we are in the car together going somewhere without our parents?” Or, “We are the luckiest kids in the world to have such great parents.”

Anyway, a few minutes after they left the driveway this morning, my daughter called to tell me they had been hit and the other driver drove away. “OHHHHHH my babies!!!!!!!!!” This comment was brought to you by MOMS. MOMS, we never stop calling our grown kids babies.

After describing what happened, I raced to the scene of the crime. My daughter, who is rarely ever calm cool and collected, was very calm cool and collected as she spoke to the police officer. And my son stood beside her tall and supportive.

Everyone seemed to be ok but somewhere deep inside, I have a lurking suspicion, that my calm cool and collected daughter is going to have one single focus today. Her focus will not be her best friend, or her Ipod or her phone or lunch. She will most likely walk the halls, her eyes scanning every face, to find the girl with shoulder length brown hair and a purple shirt, that hit her, waved and drove away. I shudder to think…

I am always looking for pictures for the blog. I look and look until I find one that screams to me “I’m it! It’s me! I am the picture you were looking for!” Today I found this one. The minute I saw it I was the one screaming “This is it! This is me! This is just how I am feeling” Life is short but it sure is long isn’t it?

“How many days Lord , have I walked in this wilderness? A thirsty pilgrim with no water to drink And this barren place is making me crazy But in my desperation I am forced to think.

(Ginny Owens)

I remember when I was a little girl having to write thank you notes to everyone after Christmas and birthdays. I HATED writing thank you notes. I just wanted to play with all my new stuff. My parents never let up as I grew older. “Laurie, have you written those thank you notes yet?” Even yesterday, sitting in the exam room at the Dr.s office my mom says…” You know I hate to bring this up, but have you written those thank you notes to ___?” “Yes, mom. Yes I have. I wrote them a while back.” Will it ever end? I think not.

But on the flip side, I got a thank you note in the mail the other day. I love opening the mail box and finding a card or letter, hand addressed to me. It really doesn’t happen much anymore. With e-mail and e-greetings and Facebook it’s just too easy to say Thank you or Happy Birthday in 30 seconds or less.

WELL NOT ME. (music rises in the background) FROM THIS DAY FORWARD I VOW TO WRITE MORE THANK YOU NOTES, CARDS, OR EVEN LETTERS (applause builds) I VOW TO TAKE 3 SHORT MINUTES A DAY TO TELL SOMEONE I CARE, OR I AM GRATEFUL OR I HOPE THEY LIVE ANOTHER YEAR ON THIS PLANET. IT WILL BE HARD BUT…

I WILL WRITE! (thunderous applause and a few whistle sounds as music comes to a crescendo) ((Homeschooler’s word for the day..crescendo))

Ok, just so that you know…it may look like I am freaking out but I am really not freaking out. This blog is all about telling the true story and at times that can be a bit risky…for me…not for you…

Alright…got cancer..blah blah blah..made decisions…blah blah..learning lessons…yada yada…so…you have heard all that. But you know it is kinda weird. A year or so ago I laid down for a bit of a nap. During that blissful moment of first sleep I see something in my mind. I see me. I am about 3 years old…I have a head full of curls..I am wearing a little navy blue dress with short puffed sleeves and a white collar with white bric-a-brac. I was laying on my tummy in a field of grass, propped up on my elbows and there was a big smile on my face. Lying on his tummy facing me was Jesus. No kidding. He was in his Jesus clothes and he had shoulder length brown hair and kind of a biggish nose and he and I began to giggle. I remember he had a nice smile and his teeth were really white even though I don’t think he ever used a toothbrush. (Those are the kind of things you think about when you’re 3.) As we smiled and giggled Jesus picks one of those tiny daisies from the grass and he gives it to me and says…”So that I may supply.” He said it loud enough that it actually woke me up. I looked at the clock, thinking I had been asleep for a while but my eyes had only been closed for 5 minutes. So I laid back and thought about what just happened. It was so weird. I was thinking about how happy and safe I felt, how I could smell the grass and how it was cold and a little damp and that a little bit of my hair would blow across my face and I would brush it back. I also thought about Jesus and what he was wearing and the way he looked at me and the sound of his giggle and how he spoke in an incomplete sentence…supply what? More on this tomorrow

Oops…I am a little late posting this but yesterday got in the way. The entire day yesterday was filled top to bottom with the unexpected. Sometimes that is a good thing and sometimes it makes me want to pull on what little hair I have and scream. But today is going to be different. I promise. Today is going to be organized and productive. Just wait…you’ll see that I am right.

So last we spoke I was discussing this dream I had. I need to take you back to a few days earlier. Here is an excerpt from a letter I wrote telling my friend about this experience.

“Then came that awful day. I was on my second medicine and endured 3 months of radiation. I was seeing the Dr. to review the results of a PT scan that would let us know if the medicine was working. The answer was NO. Along with that came the news that my right lung cavity was full of cancer filled fluid from my lymph system and it needed to be drained. The day was long and full of bad news. I got home late that night and all I wanted was a hot shower and to go to bed and cry. But instead as I stepped into the shower a song popped into my head…a happy song I used to sing at camp when I was 13..”I love to go a wandering along a mountain path, and as I go I love to sing a knapsack on my back.” I stood there wondering why of all things this song came to me. Then a picture popped into my head. A picture of me at age 3 in a red checked dress, holding Jesus’ hand. He was still wearing his Jesus clothes and we were walking through a mountain meadow up a small hill. I could only see our backs as we were walking away. Then I felt an incredibly tangible feeling.. how a 3yr old would feel walking hand in hand with her dad…secure, happy, content…then…it was gone.”

Ok, so it sounds a little weird but I promise I am not losing my mind, nor am I freaking out or insane. I am just being me.

More on this tomorrow and this time I promise no more horses breaking out of stalls and getting their feet caught in pallets and trying to deal with it all in the pouring rain when I am supposed to be home drinking coffee in my PJ’s writing my blog. And a special nod to Geri and Keith and Amanda and Rob for everything they did to help yesterday. I couldn’t have done it alone. Yay for friends who have your back and your front and your phone #.

It is pouring rain. Annie, our cat, is laying on the back of the couch looking out the window and our dog Jack is laying on the floor staring at the front door where he waits all day until the kids are home from school. It’s so sad but it’s so sweet. Upstairs is Pip or Peep or as I like to call him “Stop it!” Stop it is a baby house sparrow that my daughter found yesterday after school. It wasn’t able to fly and it was notoriously close to traffic. Today’s Homeschool vocabulary word is “notorious”.

no·to·ri·ous (nō-tôr’ē-əs, -tōr’-) adj. Known widely and usually unfavorably; infamous: a notorious gangster; a district notorious for vice.

Although this has nothing to do with today’s blog I thought you would like to hear that the baby bird is fine and we have desperately tried to feed it bird seed and liquefied saltine crackers and even a bit of worm. But he chirps incessantly and what once was a happy sound is now making me crazy.

Speaking of which I am not crazy, although you may again wonder about that after you read today’s story. Honestly, I am just calling them as I see them.

About 3 months ago I had another dream. In this dream I was older, about 15 or so. It was evening and it was dark. I was on the beach sitting in the sand criss-cross-applesauce in front of a campfire. I was wearing a yellow coat. I remember that coat. It was cotton and puffy and soft. I loved that coat. I wish…well, anyway, the first thing that really struck me is that I was the only one on the beach. It was dark, and I wasn’t afraid. It is very unlike me to be in a situation like that and not be afraid. Actually the truth is for the most part, if it dark and I am alone, no matter where it is, I am pretty much scared to death. So this seemed very odd that I was on the beach alone in the dark by a fire un-afraid in my favorite yellow coat. Which, while writing the last few sentences, I have decided was the best coat I have owned to date. My mind was so curious about my non fear factor. Then in my dream I walked around, behind myself and there was Jesus. He was sitting right behind me…again in his Jesus clothes. He was very tall and broad. He had a leg on either side of me and he was leaning against my back though I felt no pressure, and his arms were wrapped around me. We didn’t talk but I stood there for a while looking at myself and Jesus on the beach. I think I should have told him to “ix-nay” the sandals in the sand but I honestly don’t think he needs my advice.

I found my yellow coat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

All I can say is Thank You