A Good Day

I saw this sunset as a gift from God to celebrate my 20th wedding anniversary.  The picture does not do justice to the natural beauty of this miracle, which felt to be just for us.

Twenty years is an accomplishment.  We've had ups and downs, like everyone does, and we've also had huge mountains to climb, only to see a more challenging hike on the horizon.  Through all these years of fighting cancer, Stephen never gave up.  He kept on fighting by my side.  It has not been easy, by any description of events.  I could never be sure that I would live to see the milestones in life that I have so far: children, living through cancer multiple times, 40+years old, 20+ years of marriage.  There are many more roads to travel.

The week leading up to today was a rough one.  I was feeling down about being behind with all of my goals for 2020.  The Coronas had me down (and up, thanks to that pesky Covid-19).  Rabbits ate more flowers, even after dosing the garden with fox urine granules and Rabbit SCRAM.  My kids don't know how to not pick fights.   How difficult it can sometimes be be to deal with "all the things."

I am not a fan of horoscopes and never base my life choices on them, but I saw one today that summed things up surprisingly well.  Perhaps when you are feeling down, you might find some hope for yourselves in this silly thing that changed my outlook on the week.

You are brave.  You are a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day.  You smile, even when you're sad.  You laugh often and cry, too.  However, you are stronger than anyone realizes and you never give up.  You know life is short and precious, and there is always hope.  You are the sea-mostly calm and beautiful to watch, but not so when angered.  You love greatly and would do anything to protect those you love.  Your biggest goal in life is to use your hope and strength to help others along your way.

This may not be me to a tee, but it reminded me that that everyone has ups and downs in life, but also great strengths.  Focus on the strengths.

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.  

ER Visit

That craziness of wack-o brain/mini-stroke, which causes me to be somewhat unaware of myself happened tonight.  

(I am behind in posting for this reason! This happened on May 6th.)

My brain got a bit out-of-control earlier in the month, but Stephen was home from work and able to take me to the new ER in Frisco.

In these Coronas times, ERs are not letting anyone go back to the rooms or even stay in the waiting room, but because my brain was loco--Stephen had to come back with me and give my medical history.  

The staff was very kind and caring.  

I had a few scans, a heart check, and nothing new was discovered in my battered and beat up body.  Thankfully, my brain malfunction didn't last too long.  I started to come back online in a little over an hour.  

The ER doc contacted my ONC doc, and they both concurred that I could stay overnight or go home, whichever Stephen and I felt most comfortable with.  

We went home and went to bed.

I've felt well (the after-chemo definition) ever since.  

One of these days, I'll learn the purposes in all of this.

For now, I know it's to be here for my family and friends, to share my faith in God, to keep working on the goals I've set for 2020, and to keep beating the HELL OUTTA CANCER!