Back to Maintenance H#64

We are back on the maintenance train.  I had an actual face-to-face with Dr. Cole's assistant (or maybe she was an NP?). It's hard to keep all these things in my memory.  She (and Dr. Cole) were pleased that my numbers are all coming up, except for my liver, which they will be watching.

With warmer temperatures and more sunshine, I just didn't feel like it was a wig day.  It WAS a smile day, and a day to bring smiles to those around me.  That's usually my thing at the clinic, but it's been more challenging with all the Covid restrictions-family or friends must drop me off and wait in the car or leave and come back; few patients are allowed to wait in the waiting room; masks must be worn; social distancing at the counters; and more.  I miss all the faces and getting to bring smiles and happiness to this community with my crazy-colored wigs or outfits or wit-full pleasantries.  Without people connected by cancer, this banter has seemed to disappear, but I craved bring some back.

*My fortune cookie this week reminded me to not never stop this happiness. 

"Your humorous ways will help save many days."

I was determined to do something.  I wore one of my favorite hats, as well as a bright, pink shirt and a matching pin: "I love happiness," both from a company that my aunt discovered, called: seedsofhappiness.com   Along with my outfit, I carried of box full of happy things from said company: hope hearts, more pins, and plenty of pink seeds of clay.  These trinkets are mostly small and funny-looking, but I forget how much the little things can matter.  (Especially at times like this.)

After checking in, and proceeding straight to my private room, I wasn't given much time for chit-chat.  My nurse did immediately comment on my shirt and pin.  I responded by offering to share one with her.  She also was so inspired that she wanted a hope heart to pass on to a friend.  I only added one condition: that she help me pass out these happy seeds to the other nurses and patients, since I was not supposed to interact with them at a distance fewer than six feet.  

She was happy to, and I was able to see the happiness spread as every nurse poked their head inside my door through the day with a smile as big as Texas and thanks galore.  It felt amazing to bring these tiny blessings to people who I knew needed them right then.

*My hair is starting to grow back.  These hairs seem to be hiking from the ears up, but those little, gray hairs haven't quite made it to the top of their climbs,  to meet up with the mirroring side.  In there words, I have a receding hair line, which reminds me of my Gramps, and it's not shocking when a worker from What-a-burger mistakingly called me "SIR," when all he saw was this gray-haired, balding human with no make-up.  When I spoke about cancer, we bonded, and he provided some free Dr. Pepper (my OTHER oncology doctor!)

I may never know if this happiness helped anyone but myself and the beautiful nurses who personally thanked me, but I am reminded how none of us can deal with any of our challenges without staying positive and having faith.  

"Believe in miracles.

I have seen so many of them

come when every other

indication would say that

hope was lost.

HOPE IS NEVER LOST."

--Jeffrey R. Holland

May you recognize the miracles in you own life and feel peace and happiness that the Lord knows and loves you and wants you to find happiness in every day.  

I'll work on BTHO cancer with a smile.  Most days.  Promise.