Cowboy

I didn't want to put this in with my other two recent posts. I think Cowboy deserves a section all his own.

I met Cowboy several years ago when I started driving/volunteering with a nonprofit called Mobile Loaves and Fishes. I met Cowboy at Tent City and we became friends. I and my friend from church, Tommy, started going to Tent City once a month to grill out with the homeless people there and to fellowship. We always grilled at Cowboy's camp. We never did start the Bible study that we talked about. We simply hung out. Occasionally, someone would ask us to pray or ask a question. Most of all, we were simply friends.

When the 2010 flood wiped out Tent City, I helped Cowboy and his wife, Rhonda Lee, find their beloved pets and salvage what they could from their home. Luckily, Cowboy and Rhonda Lee found housing and had a warm, dry, safe place to sleep.

We stayed in touch for a while. I would pick Cowboy up and go get something to eat. I would come visit and hang out for a little bit. Rhonda Lee didn't like hanging out with us much, but she enjoyed me being there and I think even enjoyed me getting Cowboy out her hair every now and again!

He had a dog named T. He was a good, sweet, big boy!

Cowboy was probably in his 60-70s. He was a character. He was my friend.

Then, I got cancer. He called every now and again, but I never answered. Every once in a while, I thought about calling him, but never got around to it. Too busy or too tired or too something.

While still fighting my own battle, I found out he had been diagnosed with cancer as well. He did not want to go to the hospital, though. He did not trust doctors and did not want treatment.

I kept meaning to call him, but something more important always came up.

I thought about him less and less often.

This past Sunday, I found out he passed away. No one knows exactly when. My heart broke. I hadn't seen him in over a year, but now I found myself thinking about him constantly and missing our silly little chats. I miss him telling me the same story again for the umpteenth time. I miss my friend.

I felt...not guilty...but disappointed and ashamed of myself. The last time he called me, I looked at the phone, saw who it was, and didn't answer, thinking I'd call him back later. Later never came.

When I got home from church, I called his number, hoping and praying that somehow, the person who told me Cowboy had died was somehow mistaken, that I still had a chance to make it right. The number never rang. A recorded voice said the customer was not taking calls. I sent a text. I never got a response.

I have a bad habit of not answering calls from friends right away because I am in the middle of doing something else. Problem is, I too often forget to call back. A friend called the day before and I did not answer. I was in the middle of working on a report for work. I didn't call him back until God brought him to mind while I was talking to God on Sunday after church.

God told me not to feel guilty, but to learn from this. I know relationships are more important than busyness, but I have not been living as if I believed that. God told me to make sure I am a friend to those whom I call friends.

That day, I called all the friends I have put off recently, including the one whose call I didn't take the day before. Whatever else I planned to do could wait. Nothing was more important than talking to my friends.

It was so nice talking to a few people I haven't talked to in a while. I was still feeling down, though, because of how I ignored Cowboy and missed my chance to tell him that he was important to me. I started to reminisce about my time at Tent City. I really do miss it, but never got to make of it what I had hoped.

My friend, Tommy called while I was thinking such thoughts. We talked about our time at Tent City and Tommy almost made me cry. It's as if he knew exactly what I needed to hear. We talked about God's plan vs. our own and following God's lead. We talked about how we were ministering in Tent City even if we never had a formal Bible study. We were fellowshipping. We were living God's love. I forgot how important that could be. I realized that maybe, just maybe, Cowboy knew, even if we hadn't talked in a long time, that I really did care about him.

I lost my friend to cancer. This time, though, I do not have survivor's guilt. Instead, I have living regret. I feel at peace about his passing, though, and am confident that he is at peace as well. I still love him and am grateful for the time we did get to spend together.

This is Cowboy, real name Jack, but very few were fortunate enough to be trusted with his real name. This was taken around Thanksgiving 2009 when a big group of us went to celebrate with a big feast and Christmas gifts.

This was Cowboy's camp at Tent City.

The May 2010 flood at Tent City. Cowboy's camp is by the blue tarp in the right corner.

Rhonda Lee trying to find her babies after the flood. We found most of them.

 

 

I started getting sick almost immediately after going to Tent City after the flood. The city had already condemned it and we were told not to go. When we insisted, we were told to wear rubber boots and a mask. I wore boots, but took off the mask because it got too hot. Cowboy and Rhonda Lee didn't want to wear a mask at all. Cowboy had his cowboy boots on and he said that was good enough.

 

I can never prove it, but I always blamed this moment for causing my cancer since I started developing the cough almost immediately after this day. The cough was a sign of the cancer. My fault for not wearing the mask like I was told to do. I simply assumed that was bureaucratic BS because they had been trying to get the homeless out of this area for years, but there was always societal backlash. After the flood, it was the perfect excuse to make them leave without looking like A-holes. Turns out, they weren't just being greedy, heartless politicians. I have never regretted what we did that day and the fight we fought for their right to return to the only home they knew.

 

Cowboy didn't even try wearing a mask. He went back a few more times after I took him back initially. He got cancer, too, at about the same time as I did. Not Hodgkins Lymphoma, but cancer nonetheless. Makes me wonder.

 

I love you, Cowboy, and I will miss you until we see each other again!



Ten Month Checkup

Today I had my six week appointment with my oncologist. It's been ten months since my last treatment. I was a little reluctant to go because I have not been doing well this past six weeks and I did not want to let Dr. Meluch down. He was so proud of my progress last time.

During this six week period, I started off amazing, running my first 5K. Soon after, work started getting stressful and my dog, Bailey, whom I call my daughter and my heart, got really sick again. It broke my heart. I just knew I was going to lose her. I gave up on myself for a little while, not caring much about working out or trying to eat better.

Surprisingly, I still managed to loose two pounds. I credit the medicine because I have not been doing well taking care of myself at all!

Dr. Meluch was not disappointed one bit. When he came into the room, he asked how I was doing. I told him I was great, but admitted that a few weeks ago, I felt my throat and thought I felt a lump. He examined me like he always does and told me everything was okay. He said it is common for people who have been through what I have been through to immediately think the worst. I can hit my hand quite naturally, hurt the next day, and wonder if cancer has returned. There is no logical reason to jump to that conclusion, but it is common and normal to do so. I told him about the Women Survivors Convention and how helpful it was to hear from others and know that what I am going through is very normal. I told him about the 5K. He was proud of that.

After examining me, he told me I will more likely experience long term effects of the chemotherapy than actually getting cancer again, such as the need for my upcoming hysterectomy and the thyroid issue. I told him I have an upcoming appointment with my gynecologist to schedule the hysterectomy.

I said, speaking of my thyroid, I haven't been doing as well as I had hoped. I didn't get into the details with him, but I told him I'd been having a rough time lately and when things go bad like they have, I tend to eat!

Instead of being disappointed with me, he gave me a side hug and said he could tell I was feeling better. I had a sparkle in my eye. He said it was okay that things weren't going as well as I had hoped. It will come. It will happen. That made me feel pretty good.

When I left, I wondered a little at why he wasn't more upset with my slow progress. I realized that:

1) he's the one who told me it would take time. I'm sure he realizes better than I do the struggles with regaining a sense of normalcy and moving forward. (I saw an interview with a survivor of sexual assault recently. She said there is no such thing as getting back to who you were before the rape. Instead, you learn to find a new normal. I think the same is true for survivors of any major life changing event, including cancer.)

2) It occurred to me that a lot of people don't even try to do what their doctor tells them to do. I think he recognizes that I am trying. I trust him and know he knows more than I do about how to get healthy again.

I asked him when my one year anniversary date is, the last day of treatment or the day I got my tests and he said I was in remission. He said it was the date of my last treatment. In that case, I will be celebrating in less than two months (November 19). However, it will be some time in December before I get my next scan. I will celebrate again once I get the official word that all is still good. At that time, I will talk to him about if/when I can move back home!

Putting the Pieces Back Together

I have been asked several times if I am back to work full time yet. In spite of my best efforts to control it, I chuckle each time this question is posed. Am I back to work full time yet? Absolutely...and then some!

Work has been overwhelmingly busy. September is always my busiest month. Students return, I offer crime prevention convocations, a women's self-defense class, and work on the annual security report due October 1st. I put in a lot of hours on evenings and weekends on top of my regular shift. I have been working so much lately, my brain is starting to turn into mush. I stay focused on the task at hand rather well, but I have a very difficult time switching gears. I cannot think clearly on anything outside of the pressing work issues.

Am I working full time yet? All I do is work and sleep these days! I am drowning in too much work!

I'm not complaining, though. As time consuming as it all is, I really do enjoy it all - the safety programs, the report writing. Plus, I realize that I am super lucky to be working and have a pretty good job!

I have not always had the best attitude about work lately, though. As a matter of fact, up until a few weeks ago, I have been in a pretty dark place lately. I have been moody and on edge and ready for a fight. Even though I have felt my arguments have been just, I have gone about making my point in the complete wrong way.

It all came to a head a few weeks ago and I came close to just walking away. As a matter of fact, I made it out to the parking lot. Instead of walking to my car and driving to Texas (after going home to pick up Bailey and throw a few clothes in a suitcase), I took a long walk around campus collecting my thoughts. No matter how miserable I was at the moment, I needed that job and I needed it desperately. I have a hysterectomy planned at some point. With my health the way it has been, even if I didn't need surgery, I couldn't walk away without a game plan.

I went and talked to a friend who gave me business and personal advice. Afterward, I returned to my office and eventually sat down to have a much overdue conversation with my boss and friend.

 My boss has been in just as bad a mood as I have been and I think for many of the same reasons. We have both been through a lot lately with our lives and health. He has been ready to retire for a very long time. I have been ready to go home for a very long time, ever since the problems in my marriage came to a head over three years ago.

Anyway, I shared my burdens with him and he shared his with me. We talked for a good hour or more and during that conversation, he told me he had decided to go ahead and retire now. He did not and could not wait two more years.

I think the talk was very therapeutic for both of us. Ever since then, we have both been lighter and happier in our work. It's not that I want him to retire. Quite the contrary. He's pretty much the only boss I have ever known and I owe most, if not all of what I have become in this job to him. I think it was just good for the both of us to be honest with where we were and what we wanted for our futures.

Everyone at work thinks I'm going to leave when he does. I have told everyone that I planned on leaving even before he told me his plans. I will admit, though, his leaving does make it easier for me to leave. I promised him long ago that I would not leave until he does.

Still, he is retiring at the end of the calendar year. Because of my surgery and other commitments, I most likely will not leave until the end of the academic year. I know anything may change. God may have other plans for me and until I leave (if I do indeed leave), I will give my all to where I am right now. However, the incident a few weeks ago and the calming effect of talking it all out with my boss changed something in me. It's like I know this part of my life is coming to a close and I feel at peace for the very first time in a very long time.

Several months ago, I came across a fortune that said "You will soon make a decision about a personal issue in your life." I never keep fortunes from fortune cookies and think they are all hogwash. I liked this one, kept it in my wallet and hoped it was true. That Thursday morning, I made my decision. I may not have left at that moment, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God's hand is in this and it is time for a change.

The weekend after this life-changing decision, I sat down to work on my broken pot. My sister gave me the book and the idea last year for Christmas. I worked on it sporadically since then. Sometimes, it stayed in place for months. I always seemed to come back to it when I needed centering the most, during those times when I felt too wound up and in desperate need to calm myself inside and out and focus on something outside of myself - namely on God.

When I started the project, it was difficult and time consuming trying to fit the pieces together. The more I worked on it, the easier it became to figure it out how each piece fit. On that Sunday, I glued the last pieces together.

There are a lot of holes from pieces too shattered to put back together. The cracks are visible from a great distance. It cannot hold water any longer. Still, it is the most beautiful pot I have ever seen.

Like my life - shattered pieces made whole. It can no longer fulfill its original purpose, but it is still useful for something.

I started with the base, creating a firm foundation. The rest could not stand without the foundation. I build the rest, piece by piece, from the foundation. Once the last piece was glued into place, I felt a sense of empowerment, much like that which I felt after crossing the finish line of the Women Survivors 5K a few weeks before. I am whole again! I can do anything through Him who strengthens me!

I am not sure if it was before or after the pot, but during the same time, I watched a recorded episode of Perception. My sister got me to watch the show and the character, Dr. Pierce, got me hooked. I am not a schizophrenic, but I identify with him on some level. I feel like an outsider, often overlooked by others. I am not ashamed or embarrassed by my difference. I know I have value and worth. I just don't fit in to the ordinary mold. I'm not nearly as smart as Dr. Pierce, but I do consider myself more of an intellect, think with my head more than my heart. Although a fictional and not scientific writer, I am, nonetheless, a writer as well.  Although I don't have grandiose conversations and experiences with imaginary people, I do have relationships and conversations with my characters as I am writing. I do not see them nor do I believe they are real. I have a firm grasp, I think, on reality and fantasy.

Anyway, I love that show. On one episode, a college football star undergoes a serious brain injury. He has to choose between playing and death or not playing and living. He is depressed because football is all he's ever known. What is he going to do if he doesn't play football?

At the very end of the episode, Dr. Pierce visits the boy in the hospital and gives him a college catalog. He tells the boy that something happened to him once, landing him in the hospital. He said, "I thought my life was over. All my dreams went out the window."

The boy asks what he did.

"I found a new dream," Dr. Pierce answers.

That last statement stuck with me. Although there have been good moments, overall, my life has been terrible the past three years. I have felt lost, like everything I believed in and expected out of life was ripped out from under me. I'm almost 40 years old and I feel like I have yet to truly grow up. Even though I like what I do and believe I do a good job, I feel like I have done nothing but coast through life simply following someone else's lead and taking no control of my own life or dreams.

My marriage is over. The family life I thought I would always have is gone. My childhood dreams are over. I'm too old to start trying. Besides, I no longer have any desire to be a professional drummer or a fighter pilot in the Air Force. I still want to be a writer, but there is no time for writing with my present job.

All that is behind me. The shattered pieces are getting put back into place. I am figuring out, piece by piece, the importance and worth of a firm foundation and how to trust in and rely on that foundation (my relationship with God).  I am working on building on that foundation/relationship.

I'm working on figuring out how to fill the new pot that is the new me.

It's time to find a new dream.

Survivorville 2013 - Three Days of Intense Therapy

I wish I had the energy I had yesterday morning as I sit to write this entry. Instead, I am running on fumes, hoping to get my thoughts out before going back to church tonight.

My friends at church commented on how good and how tired I look. The exhaustion from yesterday wears on my face - along with the eyeliner from the makeover that I could not scrub off! After church, I had a time of fellowship at the youth pastor's house with others who work with the youth to discuss our Wednesday night fellowship time. I didn't add to the discussion. I was doing good just to be there. Don't think anyone noticed much, though. Some knew about my day yesterday and others probably noticed nothing out of the ordinary. I'm always the quiet one in that group. I go back tonight to start my first night with the youth on Sunday evenings. Why tonight? Some may ask. Well, for one, it's the start of a new school year, perfect time to start new with them. Second, church for me is like a job in that there's no question of if I should go. If I'm in town and not sick, there's no other place I want to be!

Anyway, my time is limited and my week next week is very busy so I want to talk about the rest of the National Women Survivor's Conference.

Saturday started bright and early with the Survivor's 5K. I was so excited or nervous about it that I had dreams about it all night. Mostly, that I was running late and getting angry with people for making me late and taking my day away from me. Seems to be a common theme in my life lately. Whenever I have really big days, something happens with someone else, something negative, and ruins my positive, good day. I guess I was afraid it would happen again. I needed this day. I don't know how else to put it. I just needed it. It was like my future, my mental, emotional, and physical well being were tied in to how well the day went.

So, again, it started with a 5K. My friend, Mike, and his girls participated with me. My friend, Freida, came wearing one of my shirts to watch and support me. Like I said in my last entry, I had not trained the way I had planned, but I still wanted to give it everything I had. And, I did - and more, so much more.

The race was actually only 3.1 miles, just under a full 5K and the course wound around the Opryland Hotel, most of the road nice and straight. The sky was cloudless and blue. The sun, at 7:30am already, was bright and the air was sticky. The mood was electrifying. It was as if everyone else had the same intense energy I had.

I had my plan, but I had NO idea how hard it was going to be to stick to my plan. I planned to dedicate each mile to someone, hoping their memory or fight would propel me forward. Now, I have participated in a few 5Ks before, but I have never run the entire thing before. IF I managed to do so this day, it would be a first and it would be a HUGE victory of mind over matter. I have never really run more than one mile at a time.

I dedicated mile one to the memories of former Belmont photographer who died from Leukemia, Michael Krouskop, and my sister's friend's son, five year old, Tynan, who also died of Leukemia. As I thought about them, I told myself to run for them, since they could not. I thought about their lives and the lessons they have taught me and others. In between that time, Mike and I talked about nothing in particular.

The one mile marker came close and the sun started to seep my energy already. Mike, who usually runs on ahead of me, stuck by me. He told me that I was running for others, but he was running for me. He would continue to encourage me forward.

I dedicated mile two to my friend Cheryl, battling her second round of cancer, now in hospice care, but with the best spirit and attitude I have ever seen in a person facing their own mortality. She is a hero. I ran on. I prayed for Cheryl. I prayed God would give me the strength to get through this mile for her. I prayed He would give me the strength she wishes she had. I could not stop. If I stopped, it would be a show of defeat, for me, for Cheryl. I had to press on, to be stronger than the fatigue, to be stronger than the cancer. I choked back tears. I cried out to Jesus. I pushed myself onward.

I dedicated mile three to my Uncle Juan battling stage three colon cancer and to my Aunt Kathy, his wife and caretaker. The fatigue intensified. My stomach started to churn and I felt like I was going to throw up. I began to feel a little light headed. I didn't think I could do it. Was I having a heat stroke? I constantly ran self checks in my head. Am I still sweating? Yes. Can I see straight? Yes. Can I still talk? Labored, but yes. Could I still think straight? Absolutely. My prayers intensified, calling out the name of Jesus, pleading for His strength to carry me on, to run for my Uncle Juan who is too tired to do much of anything. Jesus. Jesus. Jesus. For Uncle Juan. For Aunt Kathy. Each step, each breath became a one word prayer, pleading Jesus to fill me and get me through. Mike running just ahead of me, encouraging me, telling me that I could do this, I will do this. I called out the name of Jesus with each labored exhale. I again choked back tears. I could not let my mind win. I could do this. I had to do this. I could not give in. Jesus. Jesus. For Uncle Juan. For Aunt Kathy.

Mike assured me that we were almost done. He told me the end was in sight. The last 0.10 mile marker was up ahead. We could see the finish line. We could see the crowd cheering us onward. Mike reminded me of my mantra to finish strong. He asked if I wanted to push it to the end. I told him I was already giving it all I got. I was running very slowly, but I was running. I had no more. He didn't believe me. He told me I was not giving it my all.

I could do this. I could finish strong. I dedicated the last 0.10 mile to all my caretakers, my sister, mom, dad, the rest of my family, my church, Belmont, everyone who fought the fight with me and got me through. The last stretch was for them. I felt them cheering me. I felt them behind me pushing me ahead. I gave it my absolute all, leaving nothing, and I mean nothing on that road. I ran as fast as my fatigued body would carry me, fighting for each last breath.

A chill ran up my spine. I felt cold. I told Mike I felt cold and he told me that was good. Meant I was sweating. Keep pushing. I felt like I was barely moving, but I gave it everything I had, for my caretakers, for me, for Jesus.

I crossed the finish line just under 43 minutes. A slow time, but I did it. I accomplished something I have never done before, something I thought I could never do. I finished strong.

I crossed that finish line and I could no longer hold back all the overwhelming emotions I was feeling throughout the course of the run. A woman put a medal around my neck. There may have been dozens of people who finished ahead of me, but I felt like she was putting a gold medal around my neck.

I turned and hugged Mike. I think I took him by surprise. I held on to him and wept. Something happened to me during that race. Something died and something else was made new.

After the race, I had to find a shady place to sit, drink some water, and catch my breath. I was physically and emotionally spent. Once I caught my breath again, I had renewed energy and I felt invincible. My friend, Freida, warned me that after that physical and emotional release, I would crash hard. I still have not had the chance to recover.

Before:

 

 

 

 

 After:

After the race, I came home to get cleaned up and then returned to the convention for the final day of sessions. By the time the sessions began, my body was starting to slow. Luckily, I was still able to enjoy and take something profound away from the last session I attended about life after cancer.

The biggest thing I got out of this session and the entire convention is that I am not alone. All the things I have been feeling, all the issues I have been dealing with are very normal. No one understands me better than someone else who is or has been through cancer.

During the last session, Navigating Survivorship, The Emotions of Surviving Cancer, I laughed to myself a number of times. It was as if someone had told her beforehand all the issues I was currently facing and struggling with. I want to give my notes exactly as I wrote them down:

• might be years to adjust to life after cancer
• issues may come up again and again throughout life that require attention and nurturing
• fear of recurrence is normal and natural
• all these feelings feel awful because they don't feel normal and are hard because you are no longer surrounded by cancer survivors but they are all normal feelings for the survivor
• the emotional tsunami - I should feel good, should be happy, grateful, but feel bad. This is the beginning of the emotional tsunami - can happen any time out of the blue at any stage of survivorship
• survivorship is not a straight road - it's not smooth sailing
• sometimes a bad day is just a bad day - doesn't mean the cancer is back, don't fight what is happening. Feel what you feel, have patience with yourself, have perspective about what is really going on, take time to reflect on what you have accomplished, how far you have come.

This is where I really got tuned in. She said we often compare where we are to where we used to be. She said (and this was scary because I have asked this exact thing of myself), we may have used to be able to read an entire book in one sitting. Now, our brain isn't functioning correctly and we do good to get through one chapter at a time. Instead of being upset that you don't have the attention span to read that book and that it's taking you forever to get through, be happy and proud that you were able to read that one chapter. What perspective! I sure felt like she was talking directly to me!

• lack of concentration is normal (in my notes, I underlined the word normal three times)
• cancer does not change everything, it creates an opportunity to reevaluate, clarify, question what matters to you

She said society has mistakenly given us two wrong expectations. 1)once treatment is over, we immediately go back to normal. That's not so. It's a second life. Some things will never be the same. Some emotions we may never get over, such as the fear of recurrence and survivor's guilt. 2) after cancer, people drastically change their lives, write a book, climb a mountain, start a non-profit. Some people do change, but some people go right back to their old life. What surviving cancer does do is make you reevaluate what matters to you. If you are not living up to your ideas for yourself, survivorship may push you to make changes in your life. This is not a guarantee or an expectation. Live life for you.

• there is no right or wrong way to live as a survivor.
• we take on a lot of unnecessary angst or guilt. Only thing that matters is how I choose to live my life. My status as a survivor will change over time.
• *survivor's guilt - there is no hierarchy of cancer. Cancer is cancer. Embrace emotions, but don't make it harder on yourself, your experience was your experience
• all feelings are coping mechanisms, but not healthy if it lasts too long, if it lingers
• *surviving cancer is enough - you don't have to go climb a mountain, change the world
• do and live how you want and that is more than enough
• seek support
• laugh
• survivorship requires active participation
• I will continue to change - be honest about it, talk about it, seek support, write about it - helps to get clarity and perspective
• not every aspect of you has changed, but it is okay to grieve the loss of yourself
• this process takes time and may come in waves

One woman spoke up about her struggles with survivor's guilt. This ignited this topic again and reinforced to me how real it is and how all survivors experience it. She discussed it further with us and gave us good tips to re-frame our perspective. It really helped me:

• survivor's guilt keeps coming up. It is real and big, important to acknowledge this. I will most likely continue to have this response when I hear about others who die. Remember, the two are not connected, my living and their dying
• I lived. They died. One has nothing to do with the other. It is okay to acknowledge that's tragic, but good may come out of it for that family
• turn guilt into action, do something for someone else
• before volunteering with other cancer patients/survivors, realize you may not be ready or prepared, make sure you are emotionally stable and taken care of first (I am not ready)

This one session answered so many of my lingering questions. Afterwards, I introduced myself to the woman who asked about survivor's guilt. I shared my troubles with it with her. We both marveled at this conference and how open and honest everyone is here and how it has really helped us understand ourselves and made us better equipped to navigate our own lives post cancer.

After this session, it was time for lunch, courtesy of the Cancer Treatment Centers of America. While we ate a very healthy meal, one of their chefs was on stage doing a cooking demonstration. Before that, a panel was on stage answering questions from the audience about health and diet. The meal was good and I got a lot of valuable information, but I was growing more and more tired. I elected to walk around the huge hotel and look for a forbidden drink, the enemy of cancer patients and survivors. Unfortunately, or fortunately, however you want to look at it, Pepsi has a monopoly at the Opryland Hotel. I don't care what anyone says, Pepsi DOES NOT taste like Coke. I figured that was God's way of telling me to stick it out.

I still had over an hour before my makeover (yes, I signed up for the free makeover. What the heck? I like free!) and I didn't care much about the rest of the celebrity chef cooking competition in the main ballroom. Instead, I went upstairs where the breakout sessions were held and took me a cat nap in a comfy leather chair.

Finally, time for my makeover. As soon as I sat down, I told he she could do anything she wanted with me, but I did not want false eyelashes. Too many of the women were wearing them and my eyes are just too sensitive. No way!

During the first night, at the red carpet pajama party, several women were in awe about how quickly my hair has grown back. They were amazed with how thick and straight it was. This shocked me. I replied by saying that it was thinner on top than normal, had more grey, and was wavier than normal. I used to have very thick, long, very straight hair. Apparently, it is still thicker and straighter and grows faster than a lot of other women survivors.

The hair stylist, however, still realized it was thinner on the top than on the sides. They gave me a fake hair piece to give me bangs and volume. I actually really liked bangs and think I will get bangs next time I get my hair cut. The piece looked like a toupee for a small man. Mike had to help me figure out how to take it off. He then had a lot of fun trying it on his own head!

The girl who did my makeup spent a lot of time on my eyes. Poor thing. I told her my eyes were sensitive, but she hung in there. As much time as she spent on me, I just knew I was going to look like a clown!

When she gave me the mirror, I was taken by surprise and said "WOW!" She asked me what I meant by that. I told her I do not wear makeup and was unused to it. I could not recognize myself, but I thought she had done a great job.

After the makeover, from the neck up, it was time for my photo shoot. The photographers did a great job making me feel special and beautiful. One told me I looked like a model and another told me how easy I was to photograph. I knew they were saying the same thing to everyone. They are the Survivor's Glam Squad. Their mission is to make women who have gone through so much and who have self confidence issues as it relates to their own femininity and sexuality feel beautiful. Even though I knew it was all part of the makeover, it did make me feel pretty good.

As I was waiting for photo shoot number two, one of the makeup artists asked me how I thought I looked. I told her. She said, "more importantly, how do you feel?" I told her I felt like I real girl for the first time since I lost my hair. It truly was a unique experience. Earlier in the day, I even got fake fingernails! That I didn't like much. Too hard to do things with nails! Besides, a few fake nails could not make my man hands look feminine!!!

After my makeover, it was time for dinner. The convention would end with a performance by Martina McBride at the Grand Ole Opry. I had asked my friend Mike to be my non-date companion. We went to eat at the mall before going to the show.

A few people looked at me weird. I don't know if they thought I had too much makeup on, looked strange because I was glamorous from the neck up and wearing a t-shirt and jeans, or if they thought I looked pretty. It has been a very, very long time since a man has paid any attention to me at all so the slight attention did make me feel a bit uncomfortable.

(Ran out of time. Off to church. To be continued...)

I'm back and I still have a little gas in me to finish the blog before going to bed

Anyway, after a cheap meal at Moe's, it was time for the show. I was afraid I would not make it through and would end up snoozing during the Opry. Our seats were high in the balcony and I spent most of the time watching the screens. Before the show, I told Mike I could not cry anymore because of the makeup. I had so much eye makeup on, I did not want it to run and make me look like Alice Cooper. I had been a ball full of emotion during the entire convention!

John Conlee was the host of the first section of the Opry. I love that man. I am not a fan of modern country, but I really like the old stuff. He sang Rose Colored Glasses and I had to fight back the tears. That chorus is something I have sung to myself numerous times since my divorce. It reminded me again of Brad and the good times we did have and what could have been had...well...I digress. It is a bitter sweet song.

I got a kick out of the announcer and hosts. They kept mentioning having survivors in the house and welcoming the survivors. I told Mike that those who weren't part of the conference somehow are probably wondering "survivors of what?"

Wade Hayes was on the show as well. I liked the first song he sang because it reminded me of high school. Then, he, too, welcomed the survivors. He told a story of his own battle with stage 4 colon cancer and how he should not have lived through it, but he is in remission. Now, everyone knew what they were talking about when they mentioned survivors. He sang a song about his experience that he wrote while going through chemotherapy. I tried my best to hold back the tears, but by the end of the song, tear drops were falling from my eye lashes and streaming down my cheeks. I watched others wipe tears away from their eyes. When the song was over, I turned to Mike and asked how bad my face looked. To my surprise, everything was still in place! I should have suspected that. They were doing makeovers for women survivors. They probably knew we would be getting weepy at some point during the convention. I'm sure they used water proof eyeliner and mascara. Plus, they were using professional stuff for the camera and sprayed our faces to set it. When I got home, I scrubbed my face raw trying to get it all off and never managed to get it all. Today, I got eye makeup remover and it still would not come off completely.

Back to the show...after he finished singing, I stood and clapped. I have stood for others before, but I have always followed the lead of someone else. This time, without caring about what anyone else was doing of thinking, I rose to my feet. Many rose to their feet as well.

Then, one more surprise. They brought out Scott Hamilton to be the guest host. He introduced artists and told the audience about the convention. That was really cool and unexpected. I thought the Opry was a suggestion by the convention folks as a good way to wrap things up. I had no idea they or we would be an active part in it in any way!

Finally, the headliner came out, Martina McBride. Before she sang a song about a husband loving her through her battle with cancer, she told the women survivors to stand up and give ourselves a hand. The song was powerful. Luckily for me, it did not start the water works again like the Wade Hayes song did. I was so physically and emotionally spent. I couldn't handle too much more.

John Conlee, Rose Colored Glasses

Scott Hamilton

Martina McBride

The show ended and we went home. I slept hard, but not enough. When I got to church, I was afraid I would fight to stay awake during the sermon. It's strange. Even though I am wore out more than I remember ever being, the experiences of the past few days lingered, making me smile and feel truly content. I was eager to talk about it with people and when they ask how I liked it, the best way I can describe it's effect on me is to say that it was like having three days of intense therapy. I am excited and cannot wait for next year.

My focus was on the psychological and physiological aspects of life after cancer. There were several sessions about sex, sexuality, and romantic relationships. I felt no need to attend any of these sessions because I am not sexually active nor do I intend to be any time soon. I am divorced with no boyfriend and no dating prospects, nor do I want any right now. However, knowing there were several sessions about this made me realize that some of the things I am feeling about sex and relationships are very normal responses to cancer. Yes, I fully believe part of my hang-ups and complete distrust in and repulsion of relationships is from the hurt I experienced during the divorce. The other part, I'm sure, is how cancer has made me feel more like an it than a girl. I do not feel sexual at all. I do not feel like a girl. I do not feel like a boy. I simply don't feel like anything related to sexuality. I'm glad that I am not in a relationship so I don't have to concern myself with any of that right now. I got what I needed this year. Like several of the presenters said, our needs and emotions during survivorship is fluid and will continue to change. If I feel more emotionally stable next year, maybe I'll try some of these other sessions.

I would highly, highly recommend this convention for anyone effected by cancer in any way. Obviously, it helps the survivor, but it also helps the caretakers and other loved ones understand their role and what the survivor is going through or what they may go through.

These ladies spent years organizing this event and it shows. It was a lot of fun and extremely informative. It was all about relationship and they truly do care about making sure the woman is fully taken care of. I cannot say enough good things about it.

I also learned to be very grateful for Dr. Meluch. I already was, but so many people get such uncaring doctors who are so busy with the numbers that they don't give their patients the care and attention they need and deserve.

I thank God for sending me such great doctors and for this entire journey.

Well, enough said. Again, I simply do not feel like editing. I hope my enthusiasm found its voice in these words.

Goodnight!

Survivorville 2013 - Road to Healing

Many months ago, I saw an advertisement in my oncologist's office for the First Annual Women Survivor's Convention being held in late August at the Gaylord Opryland Hotel in Nashville. I picked up a flyer, not because of the conference, but because the 5K which was also advertised on the same flyer. I started the summer with a deep drive to start running 5Ks in an attempt to get healthy since my body prevented me from doing the things I used to enjoy such as weight lifting and Krav Maga. I thought this would be a good goal, train and participate in 5Ks leading up to this one and run the entire Women Survivor's 5K. Lofty goal and had I not fallen off the nutrition and exercise wagon so often this summer, I think I could have easily done it. The race is in the morning. I have certainly improved since my first 5K in May, but enough to be able to run the whole thing? I am dedicating the race to my friend Cheryl and my uncle Juan, but will that be enough to motivate my body to stay in motion for the full distance? I'll let you know!

As I reviewed the website, the entire convention intrigued me and for whatever reason, I knew I had to be a part of it. I don't know why. I'm not big on crowds and conventions and such. I'm a loner. But, that something inside of me (I am pretty sure it was God) compelled me to dig a little deeper.

Funds are tight and I know there's no way I would have even considered it had it not been in town. Since it was in town, I thought I should at least entertain the idea of going, but I was still concerned about spending the money.

The website mentioned offering scholarships. I emailed and inquired what I would have to do to apply. All I would have to do was send an email detailing why I wanted to go and what I hoped to get out of the convention. Easy enough. I tell my story all the time. But, why did I want to go to the conference? I wasn't exactly sure, but after telling my story, I said I hoped to bond with other survivors and learn from them. Who knew my subconscious had such psychic ability? (Just kidding. I think that, too, was God giving me the words.)

The very next day, I heard back from them and found out I had gotten that scholarship! I was excited and could not wait for the day to arrive.

The day arrived. I took time off work to be able to go. I started getting nervous and wondering what I got myself into. A big part of me wanted to talk myself out of going. After all, I have been working really hard lately. I mean, my life has been nothing but work, work, work. Long hours. Work coming home with me. Work consuming my every waking moment. I deserved and probably needed to simply take these days off, sleep late, and relax. That was my reasoning. The real reason, I was simply scared. I didn't know what to expect. I didn't know anyone going. I'm a little introvert. What did I get myself into?

Of course, I was not about to let fear get the best of me. I have spent my entire life giving in to fear. No more. After all, I was afraid about the RAD conference in San Antonio last month. I went anyway because it was work related and work paid for the conference. Work did not pay for this conference. I did not pay for this conference. But, I had fun at the RAD conference. I figured I just may end up enjoying myself at this conference. Sleep be damned!!!

The events kicked off last night with the Red Carpet Live! Pajama Party! hosted by Nan Kelley, a host on GAC. If I was going to go, I was going to do it right. I usually sleep in shorts and a t-shirt. For this event, I wore my puppy dog PJ bottoms with a t-shirt. It was too hot for the matching top.

The vibe in the room was unlike anything I have known before. It was like being amongst family. We were all bonded by a common experience, creating an immediate sisterhood. I have never been in a sorority, but I imagine the connection was similar. It was like we had all known each other for years. Everyone started talking to everyone else and sharing stories and secrets. Nothing was taboo.

I met one woman from Arizona. We were both alone at the convention. We walked down the red carpet together. Nan Kelley stopped and interviewed us all as we walked the carpet. Then, we stopped and had our picture taken with some cute, tiny little woman. I had no idea who she was until the opening ceremonies. They treated us like celebrities. It was a little bizarre, but quite fun.

During the opening ceremonies, we were introduced to the Honorary Chair, Olympian Shannon Miller. That was the woman they had us take a picture with.

The night concluded with a performance by the Nash Trash sisters, writers in the round, and a short show by the Little River Band. I had no idea who they were. I intended to leave early, but I sent my ex a text and ask if he had ever heard of them and if so, if they were any good. He said they were awesome and that I would recognize their songs.

His response surprised me. I thought this was a new country band. Brad is quite a musician himself and he does not easily or readily hand out musical compliments. Plus, I have not listened to country music in more than three years now. How would I recognize any of their songs?

I quickly realized my mistake once they came out and sang the first song. Not a new country band, but an old rock band! They were amazing!

To make the night even better, they had a desert bar and a wait staff coming by our seats to pick up after us. It was obvious women organized this event. We were being pampered all night. It was awesome! It sure is nice being taken care of every once in a while!!!

Day two started off a little slow only because I was tired. It is hard going right to sleep after a good night like that. But, I was soon to learn that God had it all planned. I had been lost in wonder. I had been praying for answers. I have been eager, impatient, baffled, angry, manic, and grateful. God gave me peace, but He had not given me answers...yet.

I did not even know what questions to ask until He gave me the answers. There has been only one thing on my mind that I have been able to clearly identify, explain, and pray about.

"God, I would love to be able to write for a living, move to Texas and make my living as a writer. If You want me to be a writer, give me not only the desire to be a writer, but that burning need to write, same as You have done to get me to workout, just that deep inner need. If You don't want me to write anymore, take away this desire and align my will with Your will."

My spoken prayer: Am I supposed to write?

My unspoken prayers: Am I normal? Why am I here? What purpose is there? Why me? I have been trying for so long to make sense out of everything. It all gets muddled in my mind and gets lost in translation.

Issue one I have been trying to wrap my head around. My personality has changed. Some things I like, some things I don't. I used to have a very peaceful spirit. I could spend hours reading. I could make myself sit down and start writing and I could write for hours. I could simply sit in silence. These days, my brain will not slow down long enough for me to be able to enjoy my former favorite pastimes. I miss them. I can no longer watch television for long without my mind wandering. I cannot read my Bible or spend much time in prayer. A few minutes here and there. That's the best I have right now. Will my brain ever slow down enough? Will I ever be able to enjoy reading and writing again? Is that part of my life over?

I am more egotistical than ever. The youth pastor at our church gave a great sermon to the youth this past Wednesday. He asked the kids to write on a piece of paper something people would say about them that would block the light, a not so good quality. The message may have been geared for them, but it spoke to me as well. I did not have to write anything down, but my piece of darkness was easy for me to think about. What would people say about me? These days they would probably say I'm egotistical. Some people I work with probably wish I would just keep my mouth shut sometimes.

Now, the ego has its good qualities and bad. The good: I used to le t things get to me, but kept my mouth shut. I did not feel confident enough to say anything or didn't think anyone cared enough to listen to me. I had a "why bother" attitude and preferred keeping the peace over speaking up for what's right. Now, if I don't agree with something, I speak my mind. I will not be silent. If there is something I want to do, I do it. People don't like what I have to say, too bad for them. I get my way. I may have to work a little harder, but I will get my way. (most of the time)

The bad: I have noticed that I am getting really bad at projecting my values onto others and making them feel bad for not thinking my way. I'm not talking just religion, I mean everything. I don't think I should eat junk food today, no one should. I want to go to Dairy Queen today, its okay for anyone else to eat ice cream today. I think I need to buckle down and take my workout more serious, everyone else around me should, too. I am too busy working on a project, you better not decide to waste my time with idle chatter. I will get angry.

I didn't realize I was doing that until Wednesday's sermon. I will work on this.

What about the other part of that personality change, the outspoken go getter. (Man, I remind myself of my sister! She has always been like that!)

During her talk today, Shannon Miller shared her experience and how it has changed her. She said she used to hate interviews and only gave yes or no answers. Now, she is able to get up in front of this crowd and have a conversation.

She talked about all the times she messed up when she was a professional athlete and how many times she fell. It was embarrassing. She looks back now and realizes that was nothing. In life, like in gymnastics, when you fall, you get back up again.

She said she, like us, have overcome cancer. We fought and we conquered. She takes nothing for granted now and says if we can overcome cancer, we can overcome anything. Survivors have this "I can do anything" attitude. Cancer does change us.

Through her speech, by watching the reactions her speech had on other participants, and in conversations I had with others, I realize I am still in the healing process. My brain will level out. Some of these "new personality" issues will calm. Some will be a new part of who I am. I am eight months old in my new life. Like an infant, I cannot learn to walk in a day. It will take time getting used to my new legs!

Issue two: I have talked about survivor's guilt in past blogs. I am no longer stuck in that depression, but the guilt still lingers. I think about it every day. Why am I alive and others died?

During that same panel discussion, Geralyn Lucas, author of Why I Wore Lipstick (to My Mastectomy) which became a Lifetime movie, made a comment about survivor's guilt.

Later in the day, she was co-hosting a breakout session. I got up to leave when I realized I was in the wrong room. This was not what I expected and I wanted to go to one about psycho-social effects of cancer. I thought this session would answer my questions about why my brain is not acting like my old normal self. That session ended up being more about the caregiver than the patient.

The next session was cancelled. As I walked back toward the main area, I noticed she was still in the other room talking to folks. I went in to the room to apologize to the panelists. I explained why I left and what I hoped to get from the other session. I told the man that I wanted to see if what I was going through was normal. Without me having to say what "it" was, he said "it" most likely was normal.

I told Geralyn that I wish I had stayed in their group and asked if I could ask her a question. I asked about the comment she made on stage and asked if she had a problem with survivor's guilt. The two of us, the other presenter, and other participants got into a big conversation about this topic. Apparently, it is a very real and very serious issue, one that never goes away.

She told me about a cousin who recently passed away. Geralyn is 18 years removed from cancer and still struggles with survivor's guilt. She related it to a soldier coming home while others in his platoon died. We, like them, form a brother and sister -hood. Like a soldier who is trained to never leave another behind, we feel at a loss when we lose someone we think we should have been able to protect somehow.

She almost cried as she related her story. The other women nodded their agreement and shared how they, too, struggle with the same issues. Geralyn is 18 years removed from cancer and still struggles. The guilt may never go away, but the best we can do is to live for them. It's funny. To hear that I may struggle with survivor's guilt at some level for a long time to come comforted me. I can deal with it as long as I know it's normal. As long as I know how to navigate through.

We then talked about how we hate the term "cancer free." To us, we will never be cancer free. The possibility is always there, lurking just over your shoulder. We are called survivors instead.

After she shared her story about that, I told her how I am uncomfortable with "We Won" on the back of my shirt. Felt like it was bad mojo. When she found out I was only eight months removed from cancer, she told me I was just a baby. She told me I have won. I was a survivor for only eight months yet I was there at that convention. I was taking steps already. I was doing something.

I have heard all this before. I have told myself all of this. But, somehow, it is different hearing these affirmations from people who are just like me. They get it. My story is their story. Their story is my story. We are one. We are bonded like no one else. There is an instant connection no one can break.

Am I normal? Absolutely. If I could go back and change one thing about my cancer journey, I would have made time to seek out and attend support groups. How much less time I would have spent grieving over things had I made this connection with others long ago.

Issue three and four: Next thing on the agenda was a presentation by Scott Hamilton about Faith, Family, and Giving Back. I was interested in what he had to say simply because he was the only one of the celebrity guests who I knew beforehand.

The healing continued with his talk. Who knew the man was so funny? I suppose a lot of people already knew. A lot of people already knew who Tabitha Coffy and Peter Coppola were. They knew who the other celebrity guests I have already mentioned were. I'm just not cool. I admit it!!!

Anyway, he had me and everyone else on the edge of our seats. I held on to his every word. He had me laughing and crying. The healing, the answers to prayer, continued.

He told his story. There is no way I could ever do it justice. If you ever have to opportunity to hear him speak either in person or via the internet, check it out. The theme for today was a Day of Inspiration and he delivered.

He endured hardships his entire life. Adopted as a baby. A medical issue that doctors could not diagnose and would not diagnose until well into his adulthood. Testicular cancer. Brain tumor. Another brain tumor. Chemo, radiation, surgeries, surgeries, and more and more surgeries.

He endured it all, and with grace. He laughed through much and would only allow uplifting people around him. Those people, in turn, could lift him up on those really difficult days. Our caretakers have a tremendous role. They can bring us out of our depression or encourage us deeper into it. He chose laughter. He chose to see the positive in everything, even when he was scared.

He was not afraid to cry. We cried with him. His story is our story. We cried for ourselves. I cried for myself. I cried in gratitude. I cried in healing.

He, like Shannon Miller, spoke of his many mistakes and falls while skating. That was his theme for us. "What do we do when we fall? We get back up again."

He used two fingers in demonstration. The pointer finger pointing higher than the middle finger. He talked about the crossroads in his life and the choices he could make. He could choose the high road or the low road. He chose the high road.

I need God the most, but prayer has been difficult. I'm not sure who talked about chemo brain and the problems with prayer. If I had to guess, several people discussed this. It gave me peace of mind, though, knowing that other survivors have the same problem. We are so consumed with our own issues. Our body is not functioning like we think it should. It is difficult to pray like we once did. I am getting better by simply making a conscious effort, even if my brain will only focus for a few minutes at a time. It was Scott Hamilton who reminded me to talk to God like I would talk to my dad, from the heart. He wants to know all about us just like my earthly father.

When asked if he feels sorry for himself for all the trials he has had to face in his lifetime, he asks why? God used those trials to make him what he is. It was because of an undiagnosed condition as a child that led him to skate. He found solace in skating. He found normalcy in skating. He was just like everyone else when he skated. He soon became better than the others.

His mother died of cancer. He chose the high road and worked harder to make her proud. He became the success he was because of her.

Because of testicular cancer, he met his wife.

The list of trial to triumph go on and on in Scott Hamilton's life.

That was his message for us. That was God's message for me. You fall down, you get back up again. Embrace this because this is what God is using to get us to where we are going. We are survivors. We are mentors. We are heroes.

I felt such a release after his speech. What's wrong with me that I can't pray? My prayer life isn't like it once was. There's nothing wrong with me. My body is still recovering. When I do pray, remember to pray from the heart.

Why me? Well, that I still don't know, but for once, I'm proud of my status as a survivor. I have been getting better being content with where I am. It certainly isn't logical to see myself as a hero, but I can certainly be a mentor. One thing is certain, there is something different about me. There is something that sets me apart from the "civilians" as Geralyn called people who have not been through cancer (continuing with the military theme of our survivor's guilt conversation and my Renee's Brigade t-shirt).There is something that makes all of us different and we unite in our differences.

I'm ready for whatever is coming. I embrace my survivor status.

Issue five: I did not expect an answer of any sort about writing at this conference and I certainly did not expect the answer I got. Not quite the answer I hoped for, but it was certainly an answer. While listening to Scott Hamilton's talk, I was itching to get home to write about it in my blog. I wanted to share my experiences so far. I thought about waiting until the entire convention concluded, but I could not wait that long. I had to write now. I knew I would not be able to sleep until I wrote.

I knew I would not be able to write immediately after getting home, but I knew I had to get these thoughts out of me. I itched to write bad!

Now, when I prayed about writing, I meant a new story idea which would eventually turn into a book. I meant the story I started so eagerly a month or two ago, but which now seems forced. God gave me that burning desire to write, but not the story I intended.

Does this mean He wants me to be a writer for a living? I have no idea. I don't think that has anything to do with today and this particular answer to prayer. I think He was simply trying to tell me that career or not, writing is simply a part of who I am. It will always be a part of me. That's how I express myself.

I still want more detail, but all in due time. As Scott Hamilton said, every question will be answered eventually.

I have been focused on writing now for almost three hours, stopping only long enough to put the clothes in the dryer then fold them when they were dry. There's an answer to issue one. My brain can and will continue to slow down and focus. Maybe one day, I will finish the book Les Miserables. The old me could have read this big book on one or two weeks. The new me is not even half way there and it's been months. Maybe one day, I'll finish the new book I started. The old me found time to write. The new me can only write when I get fired up like I did tonight.

Well, my fingers have feverishly rushed to type all the thoughts in my mind. It is now after 10pm and tomorrow is another long, fun-filled day, starting bright and early with a 5K walk/run. No editing or spell check tonight. My brain is finished, tired, and ready for rest.

Goodnight!

Camera phone does not take very good pictures!

I Feel Great

(If you happen to notice any glaring editing mistakes, don't worry. It's not that I'm sick or anything. I simply did not proof this entry!)

Today I had a CT scan and doctor appointment. It will be eight months next Monday since my last treatment. Time has flown by and I am always a bit nervous before each CT scan. This time was worse than normal.

One thing cancer has taught me is that nothing is certain. Anything can change in the blink of an eye. Most people have gotten to know me well enough to know not to tell me that everything is going to be okay. They know that's not what I want or need to hear. I know such people mean well, but they cannot know that. I have seen and experienced too much. Until I get the official word, my immediate future, what my life will look like when I leave his office, is up in the air.

This past six weeks has been tough. I have dealt with deep depression and started experiencing things I experienced just before I found out I had cancer. For these reasons, I did not feel as confident of the outcome as I have in the past.

My uncle recently found out he has stage 3 colon cancer. Luckily, the doctors say it is treatable, but still. That family has been going through enough health related issues. No one needed or wanted this on top of everything else.

I have written before about people I know who have died of cancer. Recently, one of my friends and life heroes was told there was nothing more that could be done and was given hospice care to help make her comfortable. No one said exactly what that means, but no one had to.

This woman and her husband are amazing individuals. Even with all they were going through, they still did so much to help others in need. She taught me about strength and love and selflessness.

Why my uncle? Why my friend? Why me? Why are things going so well for me lately? My uncle has a family and a business. My friend has a husband and a ministry. People will miss me, yes, but I do not have children or a husband. More than that, I prayed, I begged, I pleaded for death. They want to live.

I have had all these emotions before, but I'm not sure what happened to make it worse now. All I know is that the survivor's guilt was intense. I didn't talk about it much because I didn't want to hear how God has a plan for me, blah, blah, blah. I know that. I get that. Knowing that I cannot know or understand the mind of God or His larger plan did not make the emotions any less real or painful. I suffered, for the most part, in silence.

The depression left during the second to last night of my two week trip to Texas last month. I was lucky enough to get to attend the R.A.D. Conference in San Antonio. There was a banquet the last night. I almost didn't go partly because I didn't really know anyone very well and partly because of my depression. I promised my mom I would go, though, and I am glad I did.

One of the women sitting at my table told me a story about a job she had as a nurse's aid. She told me she got too attached to the patients in hospice care and her mom told her that she'd end up killing herself with worry. She got very attached to one old man. She was the one who found his body.

Something about her story and her mother's words struck me. The survivor's guilt was going to kill me if I didn't stop worrying about it. After that night, I seemed to be okay with my lot in life. All I can do is learn from the Godly example of my friend and pray for and be there for my uncle and his family. Take life as it comes.

Somehow, letting go of the guilt also reignited my prayer life. It got even better after this past Sunday's sermon. Our pastor was talking about end times. At one point he said something to the effect of why would we want to rush the second coming? It is selfish for us to want God to come now. The longer He waits, the more opportunity for those we love to surrender their lives to Him and be saved. His words struck me. My guilt, my desire to die, my longing for God to come again, is selfish.

I don't know what God has planned for me and I really don't care - as long as He is here and near and in control. I am here today and as the Bible says, do not worry about tomorrow. Tomorrow has enough worries of it's own.

It's funny. I had determined to seek counseling or find a support group as soon as I got back from my trip to Texas in order to help me work through the survivor's guilt and other issues. A simple story from a stranger made something click in my head and took that depression away. My, how good is God!

After returning from Texas, I started feeling very fatigued again. I even developed a bump under my arm just like I did just before I found out I had cancer. Granted, these trips to Texas and back take me about a week to recover from ever since the cancer and work has been very busy. I have also started working out at the YMCA. But, still. Any time I get overly tired, I wonder.

I got the bump the day after returning from my trip to Texas. It could be from the sweaty trip and could simply be a large pimple or infected hair gland. But, still. Is it something simple or is it a sign of cancer? I wonder.

Before my trip to Texas, I got a really bad ear infection in my right ear. I haven't had an ear infection since I was a kid. My right ear is my bad ear. Is it simply an ear infection or could it be a sign of cancer?

I pooped a lot of blood one day. I have never bled like that before. Sure, I had been constipated for a few days, but there is no way that could be normal. Was it a hemorrhoid or a sign of cancer?

There have been moments when I coughed. My allergies are bad and even worse after cancer. The cancer started with a cough. Is it allergies or a sign of cancer?

There was a day last week that I felt very sick. I threw up after brushing my teeth. I had bad diarrhea and an upset stomach for the better part of the day. Was it the food the day before, a simple stomach bug, or a sign of cancer?

Like I explained to a coworker who asked if I really worry about the results of the test, there is no such thing as a common cold. Everything is a potential sign of the cancer returning.

So, I am sitting in Dr. Meluch's office waiting for him to come in. He comes in and tells me my fibroids are in the way. We laugh because we already know this is an issue. I am to have a full hysterectomy early next year.

Then he tells me that my vitamin D level is good and my blood is good. He tells me the scans look good. No cancer!!! He says, "Your tests are great, but the real question is how do you feel?"

I may have answered differently had he started with asking me how I felt, but knowing I am still cancer free and healthy, I said, "I am great!"

I was a bit worried about my weight coming in. Last time, he was proud of me for finally dropping the weight and giving up the cokes. Well, I started out awesome during my vacation, but by the end, I had stopped working out and I was eating bad...and drinking a few cokes. When I got back from vacation, I managed to drop the cokes immediately, but it took some time getting back to working out. I didn't want him mad at me for taking a step backwards.

Before I was weighed, I was sure to empty my pockets and use the restroom. I also made sure to wear my sandals and a light pair of shorts! I weigh the exact same as I did last time. A bit disappointing, but at least I had not gained.

During the physical portion of my exam, Dr. Meluch told me that I obviously must have been doing something right because I had more muscle tone. I have not noticed, but I'm glad he did and I'm glad he was proud of me for it. I did admit to my lapse during vacation! I even told him about my first ever palates class.

I told him about the survivor's guilt and why. He said he was sorry to hear about my friend and said my uncle's type and stage was still treatable.

I told him how scared I was about the results and told him that the smell of saline still makes me nauseous. He said that is all normal.

As we were walking out of his office, he turned to me and asked me if my port was out. He knew it had been taken out, but momentarily forgot because it is customary to get it flushed after meeting with him. I said yes and told him that my chest was itching like crazy lately. He said that was normal as the nerves that were cut start to heal. He said I should soon start to feel a tingling sensation where the scare is located. That was another thing that was worrying me some. I am not gentle with the scar area anymore and neither is Bailey. She jumps all over me! Could my carelessness have caused a problem in the healing process? Nope! Thank goodness!

Bottom line, everything I have gone through physically and emotionally lately is normal! I have never been so happy to be normal!



I had to be at the Imaging Center for my CT scan at 6:50am. When I arrived, there was only one other person there. I got my two cups of fruit punch flavored contrast and took a seat. I pulled out my book and started reading.

The man remarked on the huge size of the book like a lot of people do. He asked what I was reading like other people do. Unlike others, he did not stop when I told him what I was reading.

Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. I told him how I saw the movie last year and loved it and wanted to read the book. He told me quite a story about his adopted son and taught me a lesson about the miracle of God's plan.

At the age of 10, in 1995, his son auditioned for a part in the musical Les Miserables. He won the role of little Gavroche and toured the US and Canada.

The man told me that he didn't believe in destiny, but all the little things that had to happen to make this work for his son were just too well orchestrated, as if someone else had a plan in putting it all together.

He told me he doesn't usually tell this story anymore, but shared it with me because I obviously like Les Miserables.

Well, I do believe in destiny and I do believe that God orchestrated our meeting and interaction this morning. God is in charge of my life and has put me right where I need to be.

My head and my heart have come to an understanding and I am now at ease with where I am and accept wherever I may be tomorrow.

He's Proud of Me

Today I had a checkup with Dr. Meluch. He asked how things have been since our last visit. I had a lot to share. Last week, I was down with a very bad ear infection. I have had problems with my right ear since I was two years old. I have significant hearing loss in that ear. However, I have not had any issues since I was seventeen. About a month ago, I started having drainage. That is usually a sign to go get the wax buildup cleaned out. I asked my primary doctor to refer me to an ENT. Since I would be a new patient, it was a few weeks before they could see me. At the time, I was not terribly concerned. Then, two Fridays ago, I woke up with an incredibly bad ear ache. I tried to have the appointment moved up, but I had a work conflict when they would have been able to see me. I elected to see my primary doctor instead. She is out on Friday afternoons so I ended up seeing a nurse practitioner. I thought it may have hurt because I kept sticking my fingers in my ear to scratch it. The drainage made it itch. No such luck. I had a rather severe ear infection. She gave me some pretty potent antibiotics and ear drops.

Unfortunately, they took forever to kick in. I spent the weekend on the couch or in bed. The pain seemed to get worse and worse. The whole right side of my face hurt. My ear felt hot and painful to the touch. My jaw was locked and I could only eat soft foods with my front teeth. I had trouble chewing. I even had trouble talking. Everything I did hurt me. I even had to cancel my self defense class that I teach which was scheduled to meet Sunday afternoon. My friend Mike said he knew how bad I felt because I did not even go to church. I couldn't remember any infection I had as a kid hurting like this.

I worked half a day Monday and by Tuesday, I slowly started to feel better. My ENT appointment was scheduled for this past Friday. A week later and I was still feeling bad. What was worse was that it was just one more thing in the long list of post-treatment ailments. I planned on returning to my Krav Maga class on Saturday. Once again, my body kept me from doing it. I ended up contacting the instructors and told them that although I am so eager to return, I have to concede to the fact that my body simply is not ready yet.

I was also scared because I have not had issues with my ear in twenty years. I was afraid that because of the cancer treatment, my old problems were returning. I could just envision more trips to the ENT, more vacuuming out the ear, more surgeries.

Luckily, it was nothing more than a bad outer ear infection and a lot of wax buildup. The ENT told me that the outer ear infection is less serious than the inner ear infections I had as a kid, but much more painful. That explains why I could not remember the pain. There was so much wax that it kept clogging the vacuum he was using. He had to bring out the big vacuum that he said he doesn't like to use. Luckily, it was not as painful as I remember. It is by no means pleasant, but at least it did not hurt too much and was over rather quickly. Once he removed all that wax, the pressure was released and I felt almost 100% better!

My ear is still not 100%, but at least I can talk and eat. It is more of a constant pressure than pain.

I told Dr. Meluch about my RAD class. I had my first full contact class in over a year last night. It was brutal. Only four girls, but we all brought our A game and gave it everything we had. I had two co-instructors who did most of the bag work and all of the simulation. As bad as I am hurting this morning, I know they are hurting even more.

Since I had to cancel last week's class, we did two classes in one day - for a total of six hours. I wanted to be give the girls everything they deserved, but I am paying for it today. I am sure everyone is sore today. I demonstrated chokes and bear hugs and blocks and ground defense (throwing off an attacker that is on top of you). I demonstrated being choked while being pushed up against a wall. Mike is one of my aggressors. My other aggressor is taller and bigger than Mike. When we do the demonstrations, we do it full force to show them how it really works. I love the class and have no regrets. It was great getting out there and doing it again. I love this part of my job. I am simply paying the price today. It also showed me how, even though it was a tough decision, it was the right decision to put Krav Maga on hold.

Dr. Meluch told me about his own sports injury. He competes in triathlons and he fell off his bike onto rocks this weekend, tearing muscle. He has to have surgery tomorrow.

As we discussed our physical activity, I told him about how I have been running and how I have not had a coke since the last time I saw him. He said he could tell because I have been losing weight and said he told me it would make a difference. I told him it's hard on hot days. An ice cold coke sounds so good. He again told me I could have one every once in a while. I told him nope. Not me. I am all or nothing. No such thing as a little every now and again. He said everyone is different and that I was doing good. I have lost seven pounds since I last saw him. It's not much, but a good start, roughly a pound a week. It felt good to know he was proud of me. I told Mike later that I wanted a mini brownie Sundae for lunch, but don't want one now. I like that he is proud of what I'm accomplishing and don't want to ruin my good momentum with junk food.

We then discussed my appointment with the gynecologist about the fibroids. I told him what she said and he said they have to come out. He cannot check my ovaries because the fibroids are in the way. They are too large. We discussed the other options. He said it is an easier conversation to have with a woman 45-50 years old, but bottom line, if my bone density is good, he would recommend taking the ovaries out. The only issue is Osteosclerosis. As women age, they lose bone density. Chemo can cause me to lose bone density as well. He wants me to get a bone density test and pending a positive outcome, he recommends the full hysterectomy. I told him I would want to wait until after the new year, after my one year anniversary of being cancer free. He is fine with this option. He is going to send a letter to my gynecologist and include a vitamin D test with my lab work.

Overall, it was a good day! It is like I take two steps forward then one step back. At least I am still moving in the right direction. This morning, I told Mike that I felt like the Little Engine out of steam. He told me I was simply letting off the gas and switching to second gear. I like that!