It's in the Production phase!

Hello! It's been a while, that's for sure. I've been working diligently editing my book, Midnight Playground Where the Soul Plays. It has taken me almost as long to edit it as it did to write it. But I have to say, it's really good.  The feedback from my beta-readers has been amazing and encouraging.

I sent the final draft and the cover artwork to the publisher two days ago.  Now I'm working on creating the social media presence for my book and developing the brand, Simone M Richards - author.  I'm learning TONS!  Eventually I will be migrating the Minivan Philosopher over to Simone's blog and website.  You will be notified when that happens.

It seems very surreal. The book could be available as soon as Christmas and as late at March.  Either way, I know that when it's ready it will be the right time for me. I've had wonderful support throughout the whole process from my family, my friends and my editor.  His feedback is immeasurable!  He saved the world from my first draft, ha ha ha!

I'm excited to get this underway and then head back to my keyboard and my office/study at home.  I've treated myself to an upstairs study. I kicked the Rockstar to the basement and moved the Sage to another room so I could have my own library/office/study.  I feel like a proper grownup now.  The Rockstar protested initially but I think he kind of likes his mini apartment in the basement.  Of course, I have to remind myself when I go down there to get to the laundry room, that the putrid smell is of his soccer cleats and not a dead animal.  He'll be off to college in twelve months. I'll miss him but not that smell.

Anyway, I apologize that I've been a bit neglectful to you here at Minivan Philosopher and wanted to update you. It's exciting times for me and pretty much everyone connected to me.

I saw this on a wooden sign at a store in Chicago recently.

She believe she could, so she did

Yep, you're right. I bought it.

Oh and it's been three years since my surgery and I'm still cancer-free!!!!

The Ferris Wheel in Seattle!  Yeah, I've been vacationing a bit as well as writing and editing. I'll post pics from our absolutely beautiful hikes in Oregon and Seattle, Washington soon.
Cheers!

My new reality is around the corner

Yeah! I did it. Finished the book. Been revising and editing for what seems like ages now. I've had three rounds of beta-readers and have absorbed all they suggested. Only one person didn't like it; but she still had valid comments. Now I'm finalizing the artwork, prepping the website, filling out paperwork, drawing up intellectual property contracts and generally feeling giddy about the future. It's really happening. My intention to live my life as a published author is only a few months away. It's going to be so much fun.

In between book stuff, I've been looking for a car for my Rockstar, working at my suddenly politically sensitive and busy "real job", managing to stay sane during club soccer season, doing lots of yoga (one year in so far and my body has really changed and it's no longer in constant pain -big smiles here!!), dieting and down 40 pounds since August...working on last 20. Love my life.

In the midst of all my wonderful happiness though are reminders that life is short and so unfair. I've lost two friends in the last six weeks to different medical issues: heart attack and colon cancer (yikes that's close to home!). Both men left behind kids and families that dearly loved them and a community that misses them tremendously. Both were musicians and when I heard of David Bowie's death today, I visualized them all making heavenly music together and it made me happy.

Love fully, love richly, love now
~the Philosopher

My Journey, His Journey, Your Journey, Our Journey

And I'm not talking about the band Journey although the title of this blog post could easily be on a flyer for any karaoke bar here in St. Louis...

No I'm talking about that path we all march on from birth to death... our journey.

Sometimes it crosses others, sometimes it merges, sometimes it veers right when others go left.  The only consistent part is that you are still on it, on your path.  Only you can walk it, dance it, run it, drive it.  Sometimes we want to keep our journeys merged with other people's because it is more fun, more interesting, we love them or we are afraid to be alone on our own journey.  But what do you do, how do you cope when the paths diverge and you weren't ready yet?  Or you thought you weren't ready?

TRUST.  Yep that little word.  You must surrender to trust in your path. Sure, you can be sad that you won't be walking, dancing or running together anymore.  Please, shed some tears too.  Those are all good and necessary to healing and to seeing your way clearly on your own path again.  Try your best to fight the urge to analyze under a microscope every step you made while on the merged path.  Try your best to not be angry at your fellow sojourner who took the fork in the road which was only evident on his/her map.  If you can allow yourself to trust that you are walking down the path exactly as it is supposed to be, you can look forward to all that you are about to encounter, and you can be grateful for all that you have already walked.  Sometimes your paths will cross again or merge again and then that section of your journey(s) is even better than the first time.  But sometimes they do not ever come into contact again, and you have to trust that that was just how it was meant to be.

I walk mine.  You walk yours.  Sometimes we walk it together.

Until our paths cross again, god speed...

-the Philosopher

What comes next...

I have wanted to write about this for a while now and have been mulling over and over what's the best way to get this across.  I don't know if this is it, but what comes next will surprise you...


it will move you to tears....

it will make you jump with joy

it will make you grow taller and become more handsome...

it will make you lose weight...

it will make, it will make, it will make!!!!

I am completely done with those headlines on Facebook and around the internet.  You know the ones that say things like "this group of middle schoolers were complete brats but what they did next will shock you" or "this group of snotty, bratty, real housewives of _____ were moved to tears by what will surprise you"  or "this poor child who has been suffering from (insert rarest form of cancer you can find) shocks the world by what comes next"...  It's the classic 'selfish soul finds redemption and goodness through the actions of others' type of stuff.  It's the feel-good story of the century.  Every single one.

Yet it all feels so manufactured. So shallow.  Right down to how we are supposed to feel and react to whatever we are reading or watching.  How could all these impromptu, amateur videos etc have such high quality editors right there to capture the moment from several angles?  Is everyone else in the world walking around with a 3-4 camera crew documenting their lives and I'm not?  If so, how are they paying for it? Oh , perhaps ever so subtle product placement?

Thankfully I do not have a camera crew, because who would want me to post daily "I was too tired after work to think about what to cook for dinner but what I did next will surprise you!" Or "watch how the Quik Trip crew quickly gave me my change and made my day while they performed a flash mob dance to my favorite song ever on my unsuspecting, quiet and reserved self."  Oh puh-lease!!!  Enough already. 

Unfortunately for me this catchphrase has become just as irritating as when you notice during someone's speech their excessive use of "ums" and then that's all you hear and then you start making hash marks for every time they say it.  Yes, I am extremely sensitive to it now.  Like nails on a chalkboard sensitive.  So much so, that I consciously try to reduce the amount of time I use Facebook or other social media.  (Exception! When using it to post this link to tell you about this posting...)

Yet I worry for those who are vulnerable to such messages dictating their reactions, their feelings.  I worry that we are manipulating people into not trusting their own feelings and their own guts.  If we don't trust them to make up their own minds about what they read or see, they won't either.  What happens then?  I don't know but what comes next won't surprise me.

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.

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.

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))

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 :-)

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

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.

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.

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!

Homecoming

Ladybug is home from college on Christmas break. It feels good to have us all back together again under the same roof. We have missed her a lot!

I'll write more later. I'm tired now from driving 11 hours in two days. But it was so worth it.

Feeling very blessed.

Hope you are too!

Primitive text message

From my Sage, it surprised me and made me smile!

Lather, Rinse, Repeat

Lather, rinse, repeat.

This is how it feels.  Except of course, I don’t do much lathering/rinsing/repeating of my hair because it continues to ‘thin’ at a high rate… The docs told me I wasn’t going to lose my hair totally but I’m not  exactly sure how much I will have left in 15 weeks (hopefully more than a few strands on my head. If not, I might have to borrow my neighbor Paul’s “flair hair” www.flairhair.com .  I’m hoping not to because it really looks better on him than me.) 

 

However, all the great interweb doctors and experts say that one’s hair starts coming back within weeks of finishing chemotherapy and usually all restored to normal within a year.  So for me, that could mean a nice thick head of hair again maybe around St. Patrick’s day?  Until then, I simply manage the best I can, picking the multitudes of strands off my black coat and feel good that I am contributing, singlehandedly, to the comfy, soft “hair pillows” the birds in my neighborhood now rest upon in their nests. 

Lather, rinse, repeat… it’s like I’m in a holding pattern. 

O-R-I-S-T-O-E-T & R-A-E-H

How I feel when playing Words with Friends with my Fox...