No longer "A Dozen" but "My Dozen".

Hardboiled
Scrambled
Organic
Cracked
Raw
Over Easy
Sunny Side Up
Poached

2003. January. Cold. Big Belly.  Pregnant with apprehension.  Pregnant with resentment.  Pregnant with anxiousness.  Just go.  Quit making your children cry. Empty heart.

2003.  June.  Hot.  Big Belly. Baby (the Sage) sleeping in my arms.  Ladybug & Rockstar by my side holding my hands. Just go.  Quit making your children cry. Empty heart.

2003. August.  Hot. Just go. Quit making me cry. Empty heart.

Present day.  Cold. Windy.  Not so big belly anymore.  Ladybug living in Portland.  Rockstar &
Sage by my side holding my hands.  How is my heart?

Hardboiled
Scrambled
Organic
Cracked
Raw
Over Easy
Sunny Side Up
Poached

A dozen years have almost gone by.  A dozen to match the number of years I was married.

For a long time, I dwelled on the fact that I have been alone without a significant other during these last 12 years.  Yes, I've had 'relationships'.  Some have been more heartbreaking than others.  Some have been fleeting.  Some were good.  Some started good.  Some ended good.  Some did not.  I kept thinking there must be something wrong with me.  I kept asking the universe why was I still alone?  If I'm going to be alone and single the rest of my life, please make it very clear so I can quit hoping. This was the sort of message I had been internalizing or verbalizing when stuck in traffic.  But I'm trying to change.

A good friend of mine that I met through shaking meditation once said to me to change my perspective & to change the statements from focusing on what you want less of to what you want more of.  For instance, "I want to cuss less"  re-worded "I want to have more loving words come from my mouth."  "I want to quit being fat," re-worded "I want to be more healthy."  Pretty simple.

Today while stuck in traffic, and after a particularly melancholy evening dwelling on my 12 years of aloneness, I thought that perhaps my dwelling on being alone has perpetuated it.  I decided to shift my messages from the negative and focus on the positive of being the leader of my own single life. 

I have enjoyed personal freedom.  I spend my money as I want.  I sleep in the middle of my bed.  I go where I want when I want. I say yes when it benefits me and no when it doesn't.  I have met some of the most amazing people.  I have not had to live in a house with someone who did not want to be my partner.  My heart is free to love and to be hurt and to love again.  I have proven that I can survive. I make my own happy

There have been many more positive things about being single these last 12 years than cons.  And I am hopeful that one day there will be someone who will come into my life and continue to add to those positive aspects. 

My dozen, when perspectives shift, is a beautiful rainbow of colors, butterflies, and twirling swirls repeating as often as happiness can. Sunny Side Up.

#peaceSTL

I pray for everyone tonight. Every.One.

30 days hath September...

And a busy thirty days it has been!
Lots of tests, procedures, doctor visits  and more.  Mostly brought about because my insurance resets on October 1 and I have to climb that steep deductible hill all over again.  So instead I pushed to get as much done before October 1 as possible all with good results, too!  My PET scan came back all clear again - "grossly unremarkable" said the doctor.  Then my blood tests came back all normal.  So my port was successfully removed on the 22nd. Saying I am so happy to have it out is an understatement.  (I am thinking that perhaps when I pass the five year mark, I will get a tattoo over the scar.)  And then finally today I had my one year follow up colonoscopy and it too came back clear!  They want to see me again in three years!
The monitoring/maintenance plan will consist of blood work every three months for four years and a CT scan every six months for the next two years.

I have also cut my hair short with great results.  My post chemo hair is so wavy.  I used to have straight straight (did I mention straight?) hair.  So having all this wave is quite interesting.  Friday night I was told I looked like Katie Couric (which I have heard before) and also Princess Diana which was a new one for me.  Then this morning's nurse also said Princess Diana.  I am very much flattered.

It seems I've been struck by Paco Rabanne's Million again at Café Eau but this time he's an Italian pilot.  Stay tuned, the philosopher's phase 2 could be really really interesting.

Why have I been spared?

In the last 8 days, death has impacted me 5 times. I am so humbled to still be walking this great earth.  I don't know why. My heart breaks for all the families. I don't understand why this is happening, but am continually being transformed by it. My life will never ever be the same. Sigh.

Good for another six months

PET scan results say there is no evidence of disease.  Sigh of relief.  I've made it through six months; 4 years and 6 months to go.

My goal this next six months is to write about other things than cancer... maybe I'll write about sex, drugs and rock and roll.  Or maybe just sex.  ;-)

Anyway here's to having some more fun and for getting a little breathing room!

Cheers.

A fortnight of emotions

What a fortnight this has been!

I had a wonderful visit with my mother and her companion (#teamgary) in Florida.  Four days of bliss at the beach watching the waves slow dance with the shore, lounging by the swimming pool, attending a University of Florida football game and sipping rumchata nightly.  It was my first trip to Florida without children in nine years.  It was soul restoring.  It was long overdue.

Initially I started this blog posting out of a need to get on paper all that has happened in the last two weeks.  I started writing but it felt too juvenile.  So I started editing it, then it felt too restricted and self-censored.  I was staring at the screen frustrated at the problems I was having at writing this post.  So I walked away and did other things still mulling about which approach would be best, what words should I use and more.  And I realized that my frustration was self-induced.  No matter what I write or how I write it, I will always think it could have been better.  And that self-criticism and self-judgment was impeding my writing today.  So I said to just fuck it, write it - whether it rambles, is in bullet points, whatever just get it out.

So here goes.....

I wish I had a river to float away on... (just something I wrote today)

Never in the farthest reaches of my mind did I think I would be burying my wife before we would have spent years graying and losing our hair, getting fat and having our joints ache and creak at every move.  No I never thought that our time would be cut short.  Never thought I would be a widower at 48.  Never thought I would be this intimately connected to grief. No I thought we were going to be together forever.  But forever would have been too short too. 

Oh my sweet;

Oh my heart.

The first time I saw her, she was singing.  I had finished with some court business and needed a drink.  I didn’t know it was karaoke night.  I had just about walked out when I heard her sing.  It was hauntingly beautiful; it cut straight to my core and shook it, violently.  Her voice upturned my whole world.  I walked mesmerized to the bar and never took my eyes off her.   Nor did I take my eyes off her our whole time together.  Even when I slept, it was her face, her smile, her laugh in my dreams.  But the real thrill was opening my eyes to see her lying next to me, my dream come true. How am I supposed to manage now only seeing her in my dreams?

I couldn’t believe my luck.  Here, the most beautiful woman in the world let me in hers.  She let me love her; she let me make her laugh; she let me wipe her tears and caress her hair and hold her close.  She let me kiss her; she let me make love to her.  She let me listen to her sing. She let me love beyond what I thought was humanly possible.  And we were happy, so happy.

When she was diagnosed with cancer, she looked even more beautiful to me.  We approached the news with heavy hearts and minds.  The doctors said it was a complicated case.  We tried everything conventional and everything alternative.  We flew across the country seeing specialists, getting IV therapies, seeking second, third, fourth opinions.  Many sleepless nights I scoured the internet for any news, any hope that we would be able to cure this horrible disease.   She was my world, the reason the sky was so blue and the stars twinkled at night.

I felt helpless as she took the treatments and I watched her body, at first, rally and fight the cancer.  But  the days extended to months and once we passed the projected one-year mark, we both knew that her body wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer. 

I remember when she told me she was done fighting:

With tears spilling from her eyes, she said she didn’t want to do any more treatments.  She was tired and couldn’t bear to deal with any more medicine or the side effects.  She said that she wanted to use whatever energy she had to hold my hand and lay in my arms.  She said she wanted what days we had left to be about us and not about doctors and cancer.  She said “I’m absolutely and totally devastated and gutted that I won’t be around longer.  But I’m done being sick and I’m done being angry.  I just want to be surrounded in your love.  Will you do that for me?”  I grabbed her and pulled her to me, my tears never enough to relieve the sadness inside.  “yes, yes” I whispered to her.  And we just stood there, holding each other.  I felt if I held on to her, no one, and especially not cancer, could take her from me.  So I stood as tall and strong as I could and let her pour her heart and soul into mine.  I would carry all that she needed.  I would be her protector.

After she made the decision to end treatment, her body had a slight rebounding.  I naively hoped that it was a sign that she was getting better and wasn’t actually dying.  But about a month later, it was rudely evident, like a serrated-knife cutting skin rude!  Looking back, I’m glad we had that month.  We did as much on her bucket list as possible.  She asked me one morning to take her out again on the bike.  She said she was feeling strong enough to hold on and wanted to enjoy the sensation of the speed, the wind and the vibration of the bike again.  I’m telling you, I took us on the longest, most beautiful ride ever.  I tried to look at the scenery from her perspective and I think God made the colors that much more vibrant, and gave the wind a touch of cool.  I could feel her smiling behind me and every so often, she would just give me a little squeeze.  I whispered back, I love you too.

I hate this.  I hate remembering!  I don’t want this to be past tense.  I want her here.  I want to be touching her and holding her.  I want to be kissing her again.  I want to see her walk through the front door.  I want to listen to her sing again.  I don’t want to be talking and thinking about the last time we did this or we did that.  I want to wake up from this horrible dream and see her smiling face lying beside me.

When we made love, time stood still for us.  Even on those instances (they were RARE instances) when I came too quickly, time still stopped for us.  Our lovemaking was beyond instinctual; it was as if our two bodies were made exactly for each other.  Everything fit so well from our brains to our souls to our body parts.  I would say that when we made love, it impacted the universe but I might just be overcompensating for the fact that she is gone.  But I do know that it changed me, every single time.

The last time we made love, she initiated. 

She said “please honey.  Would you make love to me? “

I stammered “won’t it hurt?  I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t think so.  Take it easy and slow, sweetie.  Please.”

“okay.” I hesitated. “ I’m scared though.  I might break you.”

“Then dammit, fix things so you won’t break me.  Christ, I just want to get laid!  Did you forget that I have cancer and I’m dying!?”

I looked at her shocked.  I stammered over my words, “I, sorry, I , oh, uh, gawd, give me a minute. I’ll be right back”.

I left the room so I could get my shit together. 

Bear with me, the  memories are just...

After a few deep breaths, I returned to our bedroom.  She was sitting on the edge of the bed with her back to the door.  Her shoulders were drooped and I could tell she was crying.  She said “I’m sorry, dear.  I’m just scared.  I wish I weren’t dying,“ she paused to catch her breath between sobs, “I only wanted you to make love to me so I could feel you inside once more.  To have time stop for us.””   She turned to look at me.  Her eyes were swollen from the tears. Her body was so much thinner than I remembered.  Her remaining hair was doing a poor job of hiding her skull.  The scars from her surgeries, the stretch marks from childbirth and that spot by her heart where the chemotherapy port used to be, glistened and shimmered in the light from the windows. 

“God you’re beautiful.” I said and walked over to her.  I took my time with her.  I touched every inch of her body making a mental map. I held her close and made love to her to last for an eternity.  She cried when I entered her.  I thought I was hurting her.  I asked her if I should stop and she said “no, please don’t ever stop loving me.  Don’t ever stop.”  I replied back that I loved her more than I could ever show.

Afterwards in our bed, cuddling and talking, she took my hand and weaved her fingers in and out of mine.  She looked up at me and said, “Darling, I keep thinking I need to tell you how much I love you and how sorry I am that I got cancer.  I keep thinking that I need you to know how thankful I am to have been your friend, lover, wife and that if I could change things, I would stay alive forever to be with you.”

I tried to shush her but she continued.  “please know all these things.  Please know that for everything I have said, there is so much I didn’t know how to say; that my love for you goes deeper than the words available to describe it.”  She wiped her tears.  “And that there would never have been enough time.  But I thank you for everything.  Everything.”  She sobbed through those last words.  I can still hear her say it.  I can still feel her chest heave with the tears and the breaths.  I can still feel her body fall into a slumber while I held her.  And I can still feel the sting of my tears.

She didn’t last much longer. 

She was surrounded by her family, her children, a few close friends and me.  I was sitting beside her cradling her in my arms, her children touching & holding her as well.  The morphine eased her pain.  I told her it was okay to go.  That I loved her and I always would.  And with her eyes closed & using all the strength she had left, she squeezed her kids’ hands, took three breaths and stopped.

And she was gone.

Just like that.

I hate cancer!!

My friend from my weekly support group is now in hospice care. She is 42. She did everything right. She is simply amazing. Her husband & 2 daughters are so devoted. There is sooo much love there. I can't stop crying. Crying for them & for me too. I hate cancer & what it does to people. I ask every day why did this happen to me? Have I been spared/cured? If so, why? How long do I have? What should I be doing? Why does the body turn on you? Why? Why? Why? It's just a matter of days now. She is in a lot of pain right now. That her pain will be over is a small, very small,  comfort.
Is it selfish that I am so thankful it is not me on hospice? I hope though that whenever it is my time, that I carry myself with the grace & courage she has. But I don't want to face that for decades upon decades. Decades.
Sorry. I'm a bit of a mess. Alone in the dark, a mess. My heart is so heavy for them; and then my own emotions for me come crashing like waves on a beach before a hurricane.
Sigh, exhale.

5,000+!

In a little over one year, the Minivan Philosopher has grown from 1,000 views to now over 5,000. Gratitude to my amazing readers who humble me with your interest in my life & my musings. According to my blog's statistics, I have readers from Russia, Turkey, the Middle East, Europe, the UK, Australia, Malaysia, and from coast to coast to coast in the US.

I have so many different ideas & thoughts percolating in my brain that I am excited to get them posted for you here. I'm feeling better physically & emotionally every day so writing is taking less of a toll on me. It's nice to be able to feel the keys again when I'm typing. So hang in there dear readers, bear with me, more is on the way!

However, thank you again for reading. I am glad you do.

Cheers!
-the Philosopher

Numb3rs

Numbers.
365 days.
1 surgery
2 colonoscopies
2 MRIs
2 CT scans
3 PET scans
5 ER visits
12 chemo treatments
25 pounds gone (10 jumped right back on)
150 hot flashes
-20 wind chill
1 weekly support session
47 Caringbridge entries
5 pairs of gloves
3 hats
2 wool socks
1 chemo blanket
1 chemo fanny pack (burned)
1 grey hoodie.
$252,000+ billed to insurance companies
And a million prayers said!
All this in the one year since I received my colon cancer diagnosis.  One more number that really takes the cake – two weeks ago at my latest blood test, my tumor marker (CEA level) test came back…  <=5 of whatever units they measure is considered normal or good…  my number…. 1.4!!!
I feel pretty amazing.  Hands and feet getting better every day (love my B vitamins!), muscles stronger, taste buds back (hence the 10 pounds), hair growing (I’ve got bangs!  I haven’t had bangs since 4th grade!).  There are days when the memory of my cancer journey seems like a dream that someone else lived.  Then there are days when I remember every gut-wrenching side effect and am thankful they are, simply, a memory now.  (Especially those clear the room chemo farts!!!)
Thanks for being along for the ride, for your words of support and encouragement, for the meals, the rides, the “sure, we can talk about this cancer thing some more” patience and for the love.  It’s what makes everything bearable. 
Love you.  Thank you. 

Vacation reading list

Lovers at the chameleon club Paris 1932  by Francine Prose

An unnecessary woman by Rabih Alameddine

Paris by Edward Rutherford

Slaughterhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut

The first one is finished. Beginning the second. Check back for my thoughts & views.

One year ago I was clueless....

It feels so strange to be here. It seems surreal that one year ago I had NO clue what I was about to be faced with, undergo and overcome. Last year at this time I was nursing a confused, sad heart. I had no idea that my colon was nursing a cancerous tumor. No idea.

It was a little overwhelming for me today as I set out on my usual lake house walk to recall last year's vacation and the innocence I had. I look at the flowers, the farmhouses, the baby chipmunks differently now.  I felt slightly jaded as I walked on feet that still feel stumpy but are improving daily (approximately one millimeter per day). Gone is the feeling of youthful hope and joyful wind breezing through my soul. There is a quiet tentativeness instead. Believe me, I am happy to be alive and to be done with these last twelve months, but I'm just way more emotionally cautious now. Your life can change in a flash. And that flash can feel like forever. And ever. And ever.

I am happy to be here. I've got my stack of library books to read. And, they've got wi-fi here now. (Insert smiley face emoticon). It's just different now. It won't ever be the same. Nor will I.

The one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis is ten days away... I'm betting I'll be spending a lot of time remembering this time last year. Pardon me while I retreat into my soul for a few. I'll be back. I promise.

Glass Houses

there is a girl
she called me a whore
and
old;
I smiled
and
asked
when did you find time
to get off your back?

Sparky 2006-2014

The first time I saw him I knew he would become a part of our family.  I was sitting in the minivan with the kids just after church and I spotted two young beagle/lab(?) mix puppies sauntering back and forth across the street having so much fun.  I could almost hear their laughter from the smiles across their faces. 

The children and I worked with another family to corral the two dogs and put them in their backyard.  We fell in love with both dogs immediately but I knew I wouldn't have the stamina to have two puppies.  We left both dogs with the other family for our weekend trip to my brother's place in Oklahoma.  When we came back, the other family asked if we wanted one of the puppies.  We jumped at the chance and crossed our fingers that we could have the one they had named Sparky.  We brought him home that hot August day in 2006.  We were all thrilled.  I was thinking I must be crazy to take on a dog along with raising three children (11, 7 and 3) by myself.  But somehow I knew he belonged with us.

He fit right in.  He bonded with my ladybug and became truly HER dog.  Whenever she was around, he preferred her.  He would tolerate the rest of us but his heart was glued tightly and forever to her.  They played together.  She nursed him through his recovery from the neutering procedure.  (He was approximately 9 months old when he joined our family).  He followed her wherever she went.  He was her best friend.

Ladybug started playing the saxophone in 6th grade that year.  She would sit on the back porch practicing her scales and her lessons while Sparky sat beside her, howling and singing right along with her.  They were my very own lounge act.  I loved it.  She loved it.  And Sparky loved it.

He also loved to hide his prized possessions.  One time my sister gave Sparky (and our other dog Toby - we got him a year after Sparky & that was when I KNEW I was crazy) some chew toys.  Sparky loved getting chew toys and going to work immediately on them. However chew toys that resembled a bone were like gold to Sparky and he would set out to find the best hiding spot for it.  The scene would go like this:

Sparky would lurk around with the 'bone' in his mouth casting sideways glances at the two-legged and four-legged inhabitants, assessing who was watching, was it safe to hide it.  When he felt it was, he'd 'hide' it (maybe under a shoe or next to a back pack or under his sock collection).  And he'd walk back to the living room with the rest of us.  Toby would go 'find' the bone, retrieve it, bring it to the center of the room and start chewing on it.  Sparky would look at him with disbelief that it was found.  He would be thinking "How does he know?  Every. Single. Time?"  Sometimes Sparky would go so far as to hide it outside.  Toby would go out a few minutes later and bring the bone back inside.   Toby would chew on it for a few minutes and then abandon it to sit in the picture window barking at the falling leaves or two-legged creatures who might be breathing one street over. 

Once abandoned Sparky would tip toe back to the bone, pick it up in his mouth and start looking for a better place to hide it.  As long as you were watching him, he'd act like it was no big deal having a bone in his mouth.  Once he thought you weren't watching him, he'd hide it again.  Maybe this time in between shoes or besides the foot of the couch always making sure to creep away from it in order to not draw attention to it.  Within seconds of Sparky hiding it, Toby would be picking it up again.  This would go on for hours.  Watching this dynamic would leave us in stitches.

He loved going on walks around Carondelet Park.  He had to put up with being on a tandem leash and having Toby pull and bark the whole time.  When he did get to go on walks solo, he seemed to relish in the peace and quiet and attempted to pee on every tree, bush, fire hydrant, and mulch pile.  One time Ladybug had him on a walk and when they returned home, Sparky was sopping wet.  I asked what had happened and Ladybug told me through her tears and laughter that he just fell in Boat Lake.  Walking along minding his own business and not paying attention, splash! he went into the water.

He loved his sleep and especially on the big bed in Ladybug's room.  If you entered the room after they had retired for the night, he growled and barked so ferociously that if you didn't know better, you'd be concerned he'd bite your head off.  He was simply being protective.

When Ladybug went off to college and I started my chemo treatments, he followed me around.  He laid on the flokati rug beside my bed; he snuggled next to me on the couch in the basement; he laid beside the couch in the living room.  Wherever my tired, cancer-fighting body was laying he was there.  He would follow me to the kitchen, to the bathroom, outside, to the laundry room.  He became my shadow.  But his heart was still betrothed to Ladybug.  Sometimes when we would Facetime, Sparky would hear her voice and spend the whole convo trying to find her.  We thought it so cute and endearing at the time not thinking that maybe his heart was hurting with her absence.

I thanked Sparky last night for helping me through my chemo treatments, for being there when I couldn't breathe (a side effect of one of the drugs) and giving me a calm, loving face to focus on as I attempted to relax and get air back in my lungs.  I thanked him for keeping me warm all those fucking cold winter days/nights when the cold sensitivity made being anywhere painful.  I apologized to him that I couldn't help him get better.  And I thanked him for staying alive long enough to let Ladybug hold him close and kiss his face while he was put to sleep. 

Our hearts are breaking. Our grief is real.  We loved him so.

 

Sparky

2006-2014

RIP

Post chemo PET Scan results

I had a follow up PET scan on Wednesday, April 23 (7 weeks post chemo) and the preliminary results show NO EVIDENCE of recurrence or metastatic disease!  Yeah!!! Happy Dance!!!!

I know I am breathing easier, dear readers, as you are too.  I meet with my oncologist next week for my first follow up visit.  I envision our conversation will be just as interesting as it was during our bi-weekly visits the last seven months:

Doc: "how are you feeling"

Me: rambling on and on about this side effect and that side effect and giving unsolicited advice on how to better interact with his patients and asking to be prescribed something to relieve the pain in my hands/feet...

Doc: "okay see you in 3 months, bye."

But all that won't bother me because for now (and hopefully forever) I do not have any evidence of cancer.  I do have lingering and painful side effects. It will be so nice when my nerves have healed and my skin is no longer sensitive to everything.  Certain fabrics feel like sandpaper against my skin!  (perfect excuse to purchase a set of 1500 thread count sheets from Amazon... they are A-MAZ-ING!).

I'm also dealing with arthritis in my hands and elbows but my taste buds have rejoined the living world.  Thankfully my hands tire out quickly so holding a fork for a long time is not possible therefore I am not able to overeat and regain all the weight I lost.
Anyway, I am happy.  The sun is shining. The weather is warmer.  And I am healthy. Tons to be thankful for!!!  ((Hugs))

What you need is just a little adjustment...

It's been 30 days since I was disconnected from chemotherapy... and a few of the side effects have waned but the numbness in my fingertips and the balls of my feet along with the electrical spasms in my ankle tendons are still happening.  I did a little research online and some colon cancer survivors report that their chemo side effects peaked at one month, then dissipated; others report that it was 2 months or 3 months.  And one reported that it had not gone away at all and that her fingerprints had also disappeared.  Well I immediately checked out my finger tips and guess what, my prints are disappearing too!  I pray this does not mean the neuropathy is here to stay (pray with me dear readers, pray with me).  I'm continuing my supplements and hope after my PET scan later this month that my oncologist will let me also add the Methyl folate supplement to my regimen.

This morning I saw my chiropractor for my usual acupuncture appointment.  I told her of my continuing side effects and she said she wanted to try something different... she adjusted my back, my neck, my hands... did a little massage on my neck and spine/back and then put the electrical stimulus on my neck and upper back.  Boy that was interesting feeling my right arm and shoulder twitch (a reflex to the stimulus) while the left did not.  She said that the neck area controlled so many of the nerves in the hands that she hoped I would get some relief.  I will see her again in two weeks and said if it's the same, then I want her to put acupuncture needles ALL over my body... make me look like a porcupine for 20 minutes.

Anyway here's hoping I get some improvement because it is so weird typing with no feeling in my fingertips.  Believe me, so weird!

Love, it's what life's about.

Remembering...

365 days ago I couldn't sleep; I packed & rechecked my bags; I looked at the special gifts I had selected just for my Fox (special chocolates like no other in the world, a beautiful blue tie, a USB filled with special songs, cards with my heart written on every spare inch); I was so ready to be back in his arms & feel his kisses. And I was nervous because it was snowing steadily, would my plane even make it out?

Yep that was then. This is now.

In the morning I met realtors at my grandparents' condo. I packed up grandma's crystal serving dishes & candy jars wondering how I'm going to be able to get rid of it all. In the afternoon I put the second coat of paint on the trim in the Sage's room and thought and thought. There's something about the repetitive motion of painting that lets me trip through my memories undisturbed.  And then Fox and I facetimed. I haven't spoken with him in over a month. Although we talked for nearly an hour, I'm always left feeling like there's so much more I wanted to tell him. I'm still disappointed as I wrote in my previous posting, but I don't let it get to me.   Life is too short to dwell.

He said I still make his stomach flip. He said he wished he could be here with me cuddling. I agreed but told him the cuddle would come after a few well-placed & well-deserved smacks on his arms. He laughed. He got the gist.

After lamenting that time & distance had impeded us (& other things/people too I might add), I reminded him that the Universe has her plans & time frames and we never know what's in store. So don't give up hope, someday it could come true. But don't put your life on hold, because again it's too short. Way. Too. Short.

It was nice to see him, hear his voice, watch him toss his head back when laughing and catch the twinkle in his eyes that entranced me right off my barstool and into his arms.

We're both different from when we first met, yet the same too. I like that. The link above recorded how I felt on the anniversary of our meeting... Even with all the ups, downs, sideways and 360degree rotations, there is still a Fox print engraved on my heart & soul. Don't worry dear readers, I'm still moving forward with my life. Just letting the Universe do her thing... and thanking her for the beauty & love that surrounds me even if it's 4199 miles away.

Okay enough of the mushy stuff, here's the latest cancer update:
23 days post chemo... Hair not falling out, actually have wisps of new growth; still get fatigued but been going to Zumba twice/week & trying to move more so my muscles gain strength back; numbness & tingling continue in fingers & balls of feet accompanied by annoying spasms of my ankle tendons... Let's just say WEIRD!!!

PET scan April 23, see oncologist April 29. First port flush on April 7.

Sad news: one of my support group buddies died from pancreatic cancer last week. He fought it for 2.5 years. I hope he was able to get all the family home movies transferred to DVD like he wanted.

Sad news 2.0: met a woman diagnosed jan 2013 w gallbladder cancer. She had surgery, did preventative chemo (adjuvant like I did) & her cancer came back in January 2014 & this time docs have given her 6 months to live. Ugh my heart just breaks for her. She's 42 & has two boys 8 & 10!
I have so many thoughts that race through my mind regarding cancer but it will have to be another post.

And finally sad news 3.0: my former exercise instructor (not Zumba) at the Y was recently diagnosed with leukemia. She is 41, in TOP NOTCH physical shape, has no insurance & two young kids (under 5 years old).... Why oh why oh why?

Did I mention that life is too short?

Hug your loved ones, call those friends on your mind, make & keep lunch/dinner dates, laugh as often as possible, put love first... In other words LIVE while you can.

Peace, love & hugs to all of you my dear readers wherever you are in our Universe.
-the Philosopher

Out of the Fox hole finally...

 

 

 

It is very clear to me where I stand with the Fox. I have distanced myself and he has not noticed at all.  I have finished my chemo treatment and he was the only one of my friends who did not say anything about it.  I asked him for one thing, a playlist, for me to listen to during my 12 treatments of chemotherapy.  He did not deliver.  He had over six months and the only thing he did was send me a link to one song that was going to be on the list.  As I reflect back on our time together, his actions rarely matched his words. (I wrote about this in my post All I Ever Wanted.)

 

I don't miss the emotional rollercoaster that I was on with him.  I don't miss the way he would spin everything to suit him. I don't miss the way he would latch on to personal things I would share with him that he would then use against me at every opportunity to make himself feel superior or to justify his actions.  I don't miss being accused of snogging or shagging every single man who said hello to me.  I don't miss that jealousy. I don't miss his chimp-on-the-loose.

 

I do miss our funny banter and our passion and our intellectual compatibility.  And I do grieve the loss of the fantasy that he promised. But his issues and his problems are too toxic for me.  I am disappointed that he could not be the sort of friend that I had hoped he could be and that I had witnessed during my surgical recovery. 

 

He has his new girlfriend.  They have their plans.  Good for them. He has a BUNCH of baggage and has left holes in quite a few hearts along the way.  But this girl, former "love of his life" has worked hard to patch the holes he left in mine and it is stronger than ever.  That is the most important thing.

All side effects present and accounted for...

Wow, my last chemo treatment really wants to make it memorable!  It seems that 95% of the side effects are in play this go-around.  Two that haven't made an appearance yet are the continuing hair loss and the frog-in-throat issue (makes for very difficult swallowing).  But fatigue, muscle weakness, chemo brain (feel like I'm in la-la land, at least I don't feel angry), super-duper cold sensitivity, numb fingertips, millions of nails stabbing my jaws, stinging tears (I mean the kind that you immediately stop crying because the stinging registers a 10 on the pain scale), and chemo flatulence that can clear a room (thankfully it's just been me and the dog the last few days and I blame it all on him!) are all present and accounted for, reluctantly. 

It would have been nice if number 12 could have been like a long, luxurious massage from a well-tanned, bare-chested, non-English speaking, prime specimen of a man that leaves you breathless for days, even weeks.  But no, instead, it's like a visit from the makers of torture chambers who need to try out their latest pain-maker on an unwilling-but-realize-it's-necessary-to-be-cured victim.

Anyway, I'm simply continuing to incorporate all my 'healing' methods and drinking as much water as possible to flush the Oxiliplantin, the Leucoverin, and the 5-FU from my body.  It's been 7 days since my last infusion and 5 since disconnect and they've been tough.  But, I am done.  So that keeps me focused on recovery and hopeful for the days ahead.

Some very good news that I wanted to share.  Yesterday, I had a follow up colonoscopy because I had experienced some bleeding again.  Yes, talk about freaking the fuck out that day and the days that followed!  I felt like I was going back to the scene of the crime (otherwise known as "diagnosis day").  I was put in the same preparation bay as before and had the same doctor as before. That was the extent of the 'sameness'.  This time I was in a different operating room, (I call it the "good news" room).  And everything came out GREAT!!!  I've got a nice, clean, cancer-free colon, & no hemorrhoids either.  Doctor thinks that the bleeding may have come from the surgical site (where they resected my colon) because it looked a little inflamed, said it wasn't anything to worry about. She wants me to have another one in six months.  We were both very pleased with the outcome of this colonoscopy.  Very.

I have a follow-up PET scan on May 22 and a follow-up visit with my oncologist May 29.  Feeling pretty good at my chances.  Looking forward to being able to call myself a 'cancer survivor'...

One of the beautiful bouquets I received on my last chemo day

C'est Fini!

It's done.  My final chemo treatment.  No more.  Can't explain the overwhelming sense of relief to finally be here.  I never want to go back, ever!

Just resting and dealing with side effects.

But I'm done.  I made it.  Dance a little jig for me.

24 hours

That's all that's left till I start my 12th & final chemo treatment. I honestly never thought I'd get here in one piece with any sanity left. But I am and there's a few marbles still rattling about my brain, thankfully.

One more set of days where I feel physically awful. Just one more. Then you, my readers, will get to read about my wonderful recovery journey. Can't wait? Me neither.

Cheers!

9 days! and a few other thoughts

Nine days left... can't believe it.  Feeling almost euphoric about it that my chemo side effects, although still very annoying, are not bringing me down.  I have been dealing with chemo hot flashes the last few days and the sneezing has started too.  All part and parcel with a human body working to heal itself.  I have been sooo amazed at the resilience that is inherent in each of us.  I have worked hard to give my body the best shot too taking multitudes of vitamins, supplements, rest, exercise (when possible) and avoiding foods that will cancel out all the good things I'm doing.  I heard from a 10-year colon cancer survivor that eating an egg (complete with the yolk) each day was a great way to combat chemo brain.  So in addition to my daily banana I added a hard-boiled egg.  Not sure if I'm simply enjoying the placebo effect or if it really works but through these last six (number seven and final next week) treatments, I have not felt the fogginess or lacked the ability to concentrate.  The emotions still ebb and flow but they, too, don't seem out of control.  However, I do have a funny recent (and I'm going to say chemo brain related) incident that happened that I want to share.

I prefer to eat a hard-boiled egg every day but I had run out.  So on Sunday last, I had to boil some to restock my stash.  I put a dozen in a pot on the stove and went back to lay down on the couch.  I got seriously distracted because 30 minutes later when I remembered the eggs on the stove, all the water had boiled away and my little eggs were cracking up!  I rolled my eyes at the irony.  I was able to salvage them all and they weren't burnt (thankfully!).  I still laugh at it.  Note to self: boil eggs while remaining in the kitchen. 

Tonight I get to see the Avett Brothers in concert.  I am very excited.  I have included a link to one of their songs from the last time they were here.  I hope you enjoy it too.  It's got a powerful message.

Souls like Wheels

Anyway thanks for stopping by and reading.  Next time I will tell you about the absolutely surreal valentine's day and weekend... still trying to wrap my head around it!
More later :-)

14 & counting

Fourteen days from now I will have finished 12 chemo treatments over seven months. I pray that means I will be done with cancer too! I will celebrate cautiously as to not jinx my first CT scan results post chemo. My oncologist said I've done very well, better than a lot of people he sees. I just shake my head because I can't imagine how I would have gotten through if I felt any worse. So this weekend, it's about resting & flushing these toxins from my body. My body has been a workhorse through this thing; I just ask her to get through one more.

Now let's see what's available on Netflix....

Number 11 done!!

Home from chemo treatment 11. Tired, feeling a little nauseated, having chemo hot flashes & my legs are tingling from the brief time I was outside. It's a gorgeous day but I think I gotta miss it. Oh well only 16 more days!!!

Talk to you later, dear readers!

The wonderful world of a cancer patient's medical bills

Dear readers:
Below is a copy of the letter I sent to SLUCare... we'll see if I get any response.
******

2/12/14

An Open Letter to SLUCare CEO, Gary Van House:

Dear Mr. House:

You don’t know me but I am currently a cancer patient receiving chemotherapy treatment for stage 3A colon cancer at St. Louis University Cancer Center.   Why does this matter to you , you ask,  and why am I writing you?

I am writing because your company, outside of its doctors and nurses, seems more interested in me as a profit center than as a human being working to survive my cancer diagnosis and treatment.  No one wakes up deciding to get cancer so they can ‘enjoy’ undergoing chemotherapy, radiation, and/or surgery.  No one decides to get cancer because they want to have thousands of dollars of additional medical bills to pay.  No one chooses to experience any of these things.  But for those of us ‘lucky people’ who get the cancer diagnosis and are told we need surgery and after that chemotherapy for six months and that none of it is a guarantee that we will be cured, we get put on the cancer/chemotherapy conveyor belt and our lives are never the same.

There are physical, emotional and financial stresses of going through treatment and living with cancer. 

Do you know what it’s like to have your hands and feet hurt constantly with prickly, stabbing pain?  That it’s something you just have to endure because it’s one of the side effects of the most expensive chemo drug ($10K a treatment) being pumped into your body (which only promises a 5% increase in the likelihood of a cure)?  Do you know what it’s like to not be able to swallow without feeling like someone has scraped your mouth with broken pieces of glass? Do you know what it’s like to have handfuls of your hair fall out daily? Do you know what it’s like to worry that every new ache or pain could be a sign that the cancer is back or growing or not reacting to treatment?  Do you know what it’s like to worry how you are going to pay for all the bills in your quest to stay alive? Do you know what it’s like to end up in the ER five times in six months because your immune system is compromised? Do you know what it’s like to only be able to muster up the energy to go from bed to couch to back to bed for days on end?  Do you know what it’s like to tell your children you have cancer?  Do you know what it’s like to keep working through all this because you have to keep your income and insurance?  Do you know what it’s like to do all this as a single parent on a single income?

I didn’t think so.

Because if you had, you certainly wouldn’t have your billing department call me on a Saturday morning to complain that I have let my bill get out of hand and that I wasn’t paying enough money every month.  You wouldn’t have your billing department ignore the fact that I was paying twice as much as the agreed budgeted amount every month and that I had never missed a payment.  Even after I told your billing representative that I didn’t set the prices of the chemotherapy drugs, that I was simply following my oncologist’s directives for beating this wretched disease and that I didn’t have any control over what was being billed, she replied that my bill was simply too much anymore.  I asked the representative if she wanted me to survive my cancer treatment, she said that, of course, she did. 

Do you want me to beat this cancer?  It seems not.

Yesterday, two weeks after my latest SLUCare bill (and one week after my last payment) which includes the statement about the agreed budgeted amount, I received a collection notice from Consumer Collection Management in Maryland Heights telling me that my account has been listed with their office for collection.  Yes, that is correct, your company listed me as a bad debt.

Stress.  Stress negates any positive benefit that one can get from chemotherapy.  Your company’s aggressive tactics have only added more stress to an already over-the-top-maxed-out stressful situation.  Your practices infer to me that you don’t have a lot of confidence that those receiving cancer treatment from your company will survive long enough to pay you, so you better get those dollars now, today, pronto.  Your company’s policies treat me as if I have been neglectful towards my medical bill with you, when in fact, I haven’t.

I have paid the agreed budgeted amount every two weeks.  Yes the bill increased, I couldn’t control that.  Insurance calendar years and resetting high deductibles and out of pocket amounts are not things I can control.  But your company’s unwarranted punitive actions are heartless, uncaring and tell me that greed is SLUCare’s motivation not patient survival and health. 

As your practices and policies currently stand, I cannot and will not in good conscience recommend to anyone facing a cancer diagnosis to come to SLU Cancer Center.  And it’s not because the care has been inadequate but because compassion, understanding, flexibility and a sense of humanity is not present beyond the patient care team.  It appears, if one receives treatment from your organization, the only guarantee is they will be harassed by your billing department.

As the Chief Executive Officer, don’t you think you can do better, be better? Don't you want to?

I have included my contact information should you have a desire to talk further with me.

And I hope, sir, you never have to face cancer.

Sincerely,

The Philosopher

Dating at this age...

 

Dating at this age can be a roll-your-eyes-and-shake-your-fist-at-the-sky rollercoaster of interactions.  In my 11 years of singlehood, there have been a handful of knock-your-socks-off-and-sing-hallelujah experiences.  (Some of which have been chronicled here on the Minivan Philosopher.)   But mostly and especially lately it's been the former and not the latter.

Example 1:
Last week I received a cave painting (text) from a guy I had been seeing whose PTSD flared up and pretty much brought to a screeching halt any forward momentum we had been experiencing. I told him he needed to resume counseling and get on some medication to bring a balance to his life.  That he deserved to live a life that was more settled and that his children deserved that too.  I told him to call me when he felt he was "balanced."  He agreed with me and started back immediately with his doctors and therapists at the VA.  Occasionally I would message him and ask how he was doing.  Sometimes he would reply and other times, not.  But in his last cave painting after telling me what an awesome person I am and how glad he was to have met me (blah blah blah you get the gist), he said he needed to focus on himself and wasn't in any shape ready for a relationship and didn't want to make a promise to me he couldn't support (blah blah blah we've all heard this before) but then he closed his text with this... are you ready for the kicker... and R (his ex-wife) "has been absolutely amazing during this debacle, I might be getting back with my family"!

I laughed when I read the last part.  This was a first for me.  I had never sent a man BACK to his ex-wife before.  Oh well I thought, he came into my life at exactly the right time.  We had had some great fun before the PTSD episode.  He got my car fixed, tires balanced and detailed. He helped me through two chemo weekends and got me my snow boots!  I am really grateful for all that (especially the car stuff and snow boots) and accept that that was to be the extent of our 'relationship'. He is a kind, good man who just has issues bigger than I want/need in my life.  I wish him well in his quest to get balanced and, of course, good luck with the whole ex-wife not being the ex-wife anymore thing.

Example 2:
So I've been exchanging a few emails with a guy on the internet dating site.  I haven't scheduled a "meet n greet" with him yet.  We have similar likes and dislikes; he seems friendly enough.  But there's not this yearning inside me to hurry up and meet him in person.  However, this past weekend I was out with my girlfriend at our usual watering hole.  We were listening to the band, enjoying the people watching, & avoiding talking to the annoying man next to me who seemed to spray me with his spit every time he tried to talk to me and also reeked of weed. He did have a friend show up who was nice and friendly and mature and loved to dance and was married!  I saw the ring when we were dancing and I immediately backed him off and left the dance floor as soon as the song was over.  He tried to get me to dance with him a few more times and I just said no each time and looked at his wedding ring.  He got the hint.  But anyway that doesn't have anything to do with internet guy.  Back to that story.

On the dance floor I saw this guy who looked vaguely familiar.  I kept racking my brain, how did I know him, how did I know him?  He seemed goofy and had this grin that went on for days!  He came up to my girlfriend and I after I had sent the married man away and was trying to chat us up.  He never introduced himself or asked our names; it was all really awkward.  And I wasn't interested at all, in the least.

So the next day I was reading my dating site email and when I opened up Internet guy's profile, I did a double take... that was the smiling till the world ends dancing goofy guy from the night before.  Oh no, I thought to myself.  Ugh.

He emailed this morning asking how I am, how my weekend was, did I do anything fun.  I replied that I had spent time with girlfriends.  He asked where I went.  I haven't replied.  I think he'll figure it out.  I think he already knows that I was "the internet girl" at the bar. 

So far, the internet dating site has brought me four dates with men who are really gay but just haven't admitted it yet and one near miss.  So glad I didn't plan a meet n greet with Internet guy. 

Anyway, there's two examples of the dating "fun" I've been having.  One thing is certain, there'll be more.
Cheers!

T minus 23... alternate title "Dog gets to live one more day!"

It's cold and only going to get colder this week.  Kind of irritating because this is my "good week" and I was looking forward to being social.  But when temps are going to be 0 degrees F and below with 3-5 inches of snow on the ground, it makes it hard for anyone to go out and be social, much less me - the chemo patient!

And to add insult to injury, my dog chewed the thumb off my leather gloves!!! He already chewed up the leather on my great Strength bracelet that a friend gave me the other day.  So bummed about that!  I realize the dog is dealing with anxiety, Ladybug isn't here and my other dog is being fostered at a friend's until I'm done with chemo.  But seriously, leave my shit alone!

Yesterday's group support session was sobering as we had a new person join us and she is in palliative care.  This is where they don't try to treat the disease anymore; they just provide medications to ease the pain.  She was so sad.  Her eyes were profoundly hurting.  I didn't know what to say to her;  I wanted to make her smile or laugh but she didn't.  I left group with a heaviness in my heart because I don't know what I would do or how I would be if I were in her shoes.  I am so close to being done with my treatment (23 days!!) and I see my "life" resuming and cancer never coming back.  And I shed tears that mine was caught when it was; no one truly understands the magnitude of my gratitude.  But it's not for them to understand anyway.  It's mine.

Yesterday I talked about how this journey has taught me at least one thing:  to maximize my interactions with people (friends, family and strangers who will soon be friends) because you never know when you won't be able to do that anymore.  I'm not trying to be morbid here, just realistic, and so very contemplative.  A snow day will do that to you. 

I promise, dear readers, that I do have more funny stories to write about, so don't give up.  It won't always be about cancer, cancer, cancer.  And I'm looking forward to that as well!!!

Thanks for caring!
xx- The Philosopher

25 days left...

25 days until my final disconnect from chemo!  I am beyond excited!!! It's getting so close.  So close, soclose!

However, whoa!  These last two treatments have knocked me out for three days each.  All I want to do is sleep, drink water (room temp or warmer) and suck on Lifesavers Spear-O-Mint candies.  It's the only thing that makes the metal taste in my mouth go away, albeit, temporarily.  I brush my teeth several times a day as well because that gives me some relief too.  I also rinse with Biotene mouthwash as it seems to help with the cotton mouth I've developed these last two treatments.  My hair is still falling out.  And I've got the bags under my eyes again.  But I am not experiencing that debilitating jaw pain or the difficulty swallowing like I had before.  Yes, you should knock on wood on my behalf too.

I do miss getting my acupuncture immediately after being disconnected.  Since the shift in treatment days, I've got to wait until Monday mornings, almost 48 hours later, to get my acupuncture.  I know it works because until I get it done, my hands (fingertips especially) feel swollen and are painful to the touch because of the swelling.  But it goes away after getting treatment... I didn't use to have to deal with the swelling but must manage it for now.

Managing.  That's pretty much all I can do.  The cold weather isn't letting up (even with my offers of virgin sacrifices, mother nature is wielding a cold and fierce attitude this winter - who pissed her off this year and would you please say you are sorry, already!!!).  The groundhog can't catch a break either.

 

 

I am grateful that my chemo clock is winding down.  I know that makes a huge difference in my "chin-up" attitude.  It feels so much more do-able than it did on September 11, 2013. 

 

My oncologist said I will keep my port for another two years and will start receiving CT scans etc. pretty much within four weeks of finishing chemo.  He also said that he has been very aggressive with the chemo because he wants me to be cured of cancer and because I was young and healthy enough to handle/withstand/make it through all the side effects.   Thank god I was young and healthy enough because I can't imagine how it would have gone otherwise!

 

So until the five year mark passes without any recurrence of cancer, my body will be closely monitored.  And I will keep all of you informed too.  Thanks for reading!

Ten! Ten! Ten!

Ten done. Two more.
There is a light at the end of the tunnel.
More later. Tired.

Eye Candy

Had a wonderful time last night conversing and catching up with a friend I hadn't seen in a year or so.  We laughed, shared stories, & perspectives on life.  He could relate to my anxiety about my hair loss because he had experienced that himself this year when he was taking some medication.  We both have been blessed with thick manes of hair.  He was understanding and complimentary on my current coiffure; he said he likes it short and sassy.  I smiled at him, a lot, and told him I was planning to keep it short and sassy even after chemo is over and my hair starts to grow back.

We talked about relationships.  The state of current ones, past ones and what we want future ones to be like.  He is someone I have always been able to be open with and enjoy talking to.  We have had some interesting conversations at our kids' athletic practices and games. However, this was the first time we had met outside of the athletic realm.  And it was nice.  Very nice.

Funny thing is (and he doesn't know this), I first saw him ten years ago.   He was pitching for our kids' Tee Ball game.  My response was "who is that???" Let me tell you, I thoroughly enjoyed that year's baseball season.  It was nice to have a little eye candy to make Little League baseball more palatable.

I first met him about four or five years ago.  I didn't realize who he was until after a few fun, flirty conversations.  Then my memory was jogged and I was like "that's the Little League Eye Candy Dad!!"  But now he was divorced, single and flirty, oh so flirty.  Yeah!!! I was doing the internal happy dance but cool as a cucumber on the outside. 

So we flirted and chatted for the last four years at our sons' practices and games.  When he wasn't at practice or a game, I would be disappointed - no flirting that day.  And if I weren't there, he always would ask my son "hey, where's your mom?"  Which my son would dutifully report back to me.

But all we've done is flirt and tease for five years!  Perhaps now that our communications have progressed beyond the athletic fields, maybe the friendship will too.  Lord knows, I wouldn't mind a closer, much closer look at this eye candy!  And he's just a super person on top of all that.

However, if we are to remain flirty friends only, that's okay.  We do it quite well.

How do I weed them out?

So I took the Sage's advice and have had a profile up on an internet dating site (and no it's not christianmingle.com).  Of course there has been interest.  A lot. This time when I filled out my profile, I was quick and to the point.  I know from experience in years past, that men don't really respond to the words you've written but more to the pictures you post.  And to have even more fun with it, I posted a few pics of my dog because most of the male profiles included at least one pic of their dog.  And I have gotten positive comments on those pictures too.

The response is incredible.  But more in a quantity not a quality way.  I have also posted my desired age range which 75% of the responders have completely ignored.  I am not ready nor interested in dating 10-15 years above my own age.  I even had a 73 year old send me a wink.  Seriously? (I doubt he was a billionaire b/c he wouldn't be needing an internet dating site to find suitable women.) I thought if I would make a note about my age preferences, those not falling into that category would leave me alone.  I was wrong.  However, I do not bother to reply to their messages or likes or winks or nudges or offers of marriage, because if they can't respect my one simple boundary of 'age preference' what other boundaries of mine will they ignore or dismiss? 

Don't get me wrong.  It's been more entertaining than a bother or a burden.  And who doesn't need something to entertain them when they're connected to a chemo bottle for 3 days out of every 14?  However, that part of my life will be over soon and I am looking forward to "Life After Cancer/Chemo" (or LAC/C if you want to shorten it.) Because as I heal, feel better, and the earth warms up I am going to want to be a social creature again.  And by using the internet dating site, I do expand my search of what's available and on offer.

However, what I haven't been able to figure out is how to weed out the effeminate men and to avoid even going on one date with them.  I have had three such lunch dates and each time, I'm thinking "how does he know he's not gay??"  I know, I know there are straight men who are effeminate but they are not my type.  I need, want, and desire a man. One whose balls are bigger than mine! One who when he looks at me there is such a passion and desire on his face and I can tell he's thinking about what he's going to do to me later versus he really likes my outfit.  I'm a strong woman and I need to be matched with a strong man.  I know that.  But somehow I haven't asked the right questions beforehand or something...

And I don't wish to be rude when we are at lunch or coffee or having a quick drink by blurting out "are you sure you're not gay?"  Fortunately, I have been able to control my chemo brain in those instances.

So what do I ask?  How can I weed them out?  Any and all suggestions are welcome.


1/27/14 Hilarious update: Went to a first date brunch yesterday and yet again, another man who gave me the gay vibes.  This one though wasn't effeminate but he goes to the gym 5 days a week - no other "hobbies", had an earring in one ear and although attractive, it just felt like he was covering up his gayness by going on dates with women.  He was nice but I won't see him again.  So the saga and the search continues... at least it's fun and entertaining (for my readers as well!).

Boys to Men

There was a small pile in the hall outside the Sage's room. I asked him what the pile was for, why was it there? He replied, "To donate to Goodwill, Mom."  I said "Oh that's right, Thursday, yes."

I looked closely at what he was giving away. It was clearly things he didn't need anymore. I got a little choked up when I saw the Spider-man sheets & the Scooby-Doo pillowcases. I don't have any more little boys in the house. Ones who would run & jump from couch to chair or who would fly from room to room with action figures in their hands & superhero capes fastened to their Jammie's. No more little boys asking to watch Shrek or Monster House for the millionth time. Or who would stand atop their red wagon outside belting out Sonia Dada's "lover lover you don't treat me no good no more" because I played it too many times while driving the minivan. No more little boys who were thrilled to receive a balloon for no reason or who collected Yu-Gi-Oh cards or built elaborate cities first with their Thomas the Train sets and then next with their Legos.  No more little boys who instinctually held my hand when walking with me or who didn't think twice about kissing me good night.  And who very innocently declared that I must have been the girl James Blunt was singing about in his song, "You're Beautiful".

No somehow, someway when my head was turned or I was napping on the couch, my little boys grew up. They have bigger beds now to hold their bigger feet. They watch MTV2 & laugh uncontrollably. They Facebook & Twitter & Instagram. They play hard and sing loudly "their songs" not mine.

But even though they're growing up, they still hug me, still talk to me about everything (and I mean EVERYTHING!). They don't hold my hand when crossing the street but they put their arms out to stop me from getting hit by the car "that just appeared out of nowhere." They listen to me as I go through chemo & do what they can to ease my pain or discomfort. We laugh & joke & cry together.  But instead of them only leaning on my shoulders, we lean on each other's.

Yes I am a bit sad that my little boys are gone, but I love the men they are becoming.  And so I move the donation pile to the front door for Thursday. It's okay. It's all okay.

2/3 of the way there - #9 done, 3 more.

Just a cancer update for my readers....
Still cold as a mother here in St. Louis.  I've gotten used to wearing a million layers of clothing and hats and gloves and jackets and on and on...  I am looking forward to this all being done and seeing warmer weather come springtime.

My last chemo session knocked me out for two days.  I expected it to though.  A positive for me though was they reduced the amount of oxiliplantin drug that I get.  This was done to reduce the neuropathy side effects.  My doctor said that I receive the most benefit from the drug during the earlier treatments; that it is most effective then that it is okay to reduce it now with only 3 left to go.  He is looking at minimizing the long-term effects of the neuropathy.  I say "Amen to that!"

All my blood work was good and my potassium levels were up too.  I have been really diligent about eating a banana every morning.  My doctor said I should eat two!  I said okay.  And picked up two more bunches today.

I also increased the amount of B vitamins I'm taking.  I didn't know they were good for mood stabilization too; helps fight off chemo-induced depression.  It's too early to tell but I seem to have a better sense of emotional well-being right now.

I'm thrilled at the response to my call for walkers and donations for the Cancer Support Community's walk.  It warms my soul.  I look forward to walking with such great friends on Saturday, May 17th!

Anyway, I'm watching the weather, watching my side effects, counting down the days (more exciting than waiting for Christmas day!), buying smaller and smaller clothes (yeah!!!) and trying my best to stay sane throughout it all.  Doing. My. Best.

Look at it with me.

She whispered to me, "Are you looking at the moon?"  I shook my head no. 

She said "Look at it.  Look at it with me." 

I didn't want to look at the moon.  I didn't want to be reminded of the distance between us.  "I'm in bed already," I replied.  And I was. I was snuggled up with my duvet around my neck.  If I got out of bed, the cold air would hit me, another sharp reminder of our distance.  I had had too many reminders of that lately.

"I love looking at the moon," She replied smiling at me.  "It is so beautiful and full tonight.  I can't keep my eyes off it."   "Please, Fox, just come to the window and look at it quickly.  You will be blown away."

"Okay," I replied hesitantly. "But it's gonna be quick. It's so cold."

"Thank you," she whispered.  She looked at me with her big blue eyes and wrinkled her nose like an excited young girl. "Come now, come. Look.  What do you think?"

I got out of bed, hurried to my window.  I pushed back the curtains and twisted my head upwards.  There it was shining brightly against the black sky, the moon.  And it was full. I stood there looking at it for minutes.  I tried to look away but my eyes wanted to see more of it.  My heart wanted to gaze on it forever.  My soul warmed under the light of the moon.  I didn't notice the cold.

"What do you think?" She asked again.  "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, it is. So very much." I replied. 

"You know, when I look at the moon, I see love.  It's like my love for you flows up to the moon and then she beams it back down on you and vice versa.  And for a while, I am bathed in your shining love." she said.

"But we are so distant and have been.  How can you feel my love?" I asked her without taking my gaze off the moon.

"I just do.  I don't know how to explain it other than love is one of those wondrous gifts of the universe and the moon makes sure lovers feel it.  We can be miles and miles apart but we always see the same moon."  She paused while she returned her gaze upward.

"And," she continued, "when we look at the moon at the same time, our love is shared instantly.  No waiting till it gets dark or adjusting for time differences.  It's right then, right there, the moon beaming to each of us."  She smiled and wiped a tear.

I looked at her.  I looked at the moon.  It was shining so bright, I could see for miles in the dark.  I hadn't ever thought of the moon as beaming love to the world, much less her love for me being beamed straight to me.  I liked it.  I smiled.  I reached my hand up to the moon and touched the window pane.  "I'm touching her with my love," I thought.  "She feels it."

"Thank you for looking at the moon with me tonight, for listening and for beaming your love to me," she said with a toss of her head and a smile.  "I have gathered it up and am storing it for the future."

I looked at her smiling face and kissed it.  I didn't know what else to say; I just gazed at her.  I didn't notice the distance.  For this moment it was gone.  There was just her, myself, the moon and our love.

"Let's look again tomorrow, yes?" I said.

"And every night." she whispered.

Good days...

How should we like it were stars to burn

With a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

Let the more loving one be me.

~Wystan Hugh Auden

Black and white, shades of grey.  Faded greens, red fires burning.  Deepest blue, steps into the soul.

A million lights of love fill us from the moment we are born until death.  Every act of love keeps a light burning, every smile, every laugh, every squeeze-kiss-hug.  Every hurt, instilled or received, snuffs one light.  How do you want your last days to be?  Full of light shining forth brightly overflowing with love?  Or void of that light, shuffling, muttering, scowling, the human vacuum, no peace till death?  I ask because no one knows when their time is up.  We are living our last days every day.

Super weird, new normal or an anomaly?

Nine weeks left. 
I have managed to survive this week's polar vortex (for those not in St. Louis - 12 inches of snow, 20 below zero wind chills, more snow, more freezing temps and now 7 hours of rainfall...).  I have worn lots of layers, got me some fancy silk long underwear that has really been worth the $$ I spent.  I used up almost all of my "toe warmers" as I couldn't leave the house without them.

Thankfully, I have three able-bodied children who did shovel the snow so we could get out of the house.  There was no way I was picking up a shovel!