Journey Out of Pink

2020. That date freaks me out. As a child, I remember watching the Jetsons wondering what my future might look like. Would we really travel by flying car? Would we have robots running our homes for us? Would space travel be the norm? As I think about those cartoon images, I realize we're not too far off from those predictions. While we haven't found ourselves traveling by flying cars on a daily basis, we do have robots in our homes (iRoomba, etc.) and virtual assistants like Siri and Alexa to help with our menial tasks like finding the newest movie to watch, pulling up directions as we drive, setting our thermostat or turning on music before we come home and a host of other conveniences. Our electronically run homes would make the creator of the Jetsons proud. And remember when we went through the Y2K scare at the end of 1999? Everything seemed so uncertain and the doomsday prep began because we weren't sure if all the computers would crash and our world be instantly tu

I was checking my inbox the other day and found a disturbing email. The subject line on the email simply said, "It's back." I knew immediately what that meant.  The sender of the email was a friend I'd never had the pleasure of meeting in person. Instead, we'd found each other through a breast cancer website. Shortly after we were diagnosed, as fate would have it, our paths crossed.  We shared so many similarities. B oth diagnosed in the same year, w e had the same type cancer, the same stage, and the same grade. We were both mothers although my children were grown and hers were not. We shared a love of similar interests and hobbies. Instantly, as we corresponded, we clicked.  Through our online blogs, we were able to compare notes and keep up with each others lives. It was fun reading about each other and felt almost like I had an adopted sister. Our relationship was special. And that's why I felt so helpless when I learned, through the email

It's been a while since I've written. For some reason life keeps getting in the way. The holidays are coming and I'm so unprepared. Things seem so different since cancer came into our lives. In the past, I'd start planning for Thanksgiving months in advance. I'd write out my menu, do the necessary shopping, put out decorations, and look forward to spending time with family. It was a grand gesture that always paid off but for the past few years, I just haven't been able to "get into it." In fact, I haven't even been the one to host the meal. For the past two years, my middle daughter, Laura, has been gracious enough to do the family meal at her home. It's been a real blessing and has taken so much pressure off of me, but this year, it won't be that way. The meal has fallen back into my lap. The stress and anxiety over planning for the festivities has been overwhelming, so much so that my sweet husband has stepped in to help. "T

The first time I heard the phrase, "Dolce far niente," was years ago when I watched the movie Eat, Pray, Love. I sat mesmerized as Julia Roberts sat on a chair in the corner of a men's barbershop eating fruit. One of the patrons shared his disdain at Americans and their lack of understanding the Italian way of life. He used the example of our ignorance of rest and did his best to explain the concept to Ms. Roberts. Shortly thereafter, another patron chimed in and said, "Dolce far niente is the sweetness of doing nothing." Powerful words for a simple task, you'd think. But for some, that simple task is next to impossible. I am one of those who find it difficult to rest. A typical type A personality, I've always been an overachiever. I work hard. I play hard. And, if I don't have something to keep me busy, I find something to do. My husband, on the other hand, knows the value of rest. He has no problem fitting it into his daily schedule. For years,

Getting a flu shot shouldn’t be a complicated thing, right? Roll up the sleeve, brace for impact, insertion, completion, and leave. That’s the way it should go down but for someone with lymphedema, it’s not that easy. After a recent annual physical, the doctor reminded Phil and I that we needed to have the flu vaccine. We’d become familiar with this routine and were ready to receive the shots at his office when our doctor sadly shook his head and informed us his office hadn’t received their allotment of inoculations yet. “Not to worry,” he said, “You can stop by any local pharmacy and have your shots today. Many pharmacies are participating in the annual inoculation program and won’t charge anything as long as you have insurance that covers the dose.” On the way home from the physician’s office, we noticed a large sign outside our local CVS pharmacy indicating their participation in the program. Get your flu shot now, the sign said in big red letters. Pulling into the parking lot, w

For those with breast cancer, mundane tasks like grocery shopping can be a challenge. Before cancer, grocery shopping was a pleasurable experience. Up and down the rows, I'd search out new and interesting products now matter how long it took, now it's a challenging task. Lymphedema and back pain make my trips to the store short and fast, or at least that has been the case for the past year or so, but now that I've discovered online shopping and free pickup, things have become much easier. This weekend, I ordered groceries through Kroger's online service. The process was quick and easy only taking about fifteen minutes. After I'd loaded my card, I inserted my credit card information and voila! I was done. My order, the site said, would be ready at my specified time the next day. I was grateful I hadn't had to go through the process of driving to the store, wandering the aisles, choosing my food items, loading them into the cart, unloading them onto the conv

Yesterday, I attended a survivorship appointment at the cancer treatment center. I had mixed emotions as I drove to the center. Part of me was excited to finally be reaching this point and another part of me was scared to death. What was going to happen next? Would the constant cancer care rug be pulled out from under me? I had no idea. All I could do was wait and see. Traveling up to the third floor, I signed in at the receptionist's desk. This floor was unfamiliar to me. Most of my appointments had been on the first floor where the sickest of the sick usually were. That's where the port room was located. That's where the halls were lined with recliners to help make patients more comfortable as they waited to have blood drawn, scans done, or poison dripped into their bodies. I was well acquainted with that floor. I'd been there many, many times but thankfully, I'd never had to endure the trauma of having a port inserted into my body since I'd refused chem

I had no idea she'd die so soon. We'd only been friends for a little over a year, but during that year, we'd shared so much. We shared the same diagnosis, the same stage of cancer, the same grade tumor. Our lives were parallel. It just didn't make sense. Both she and I had chosen to forego traditional treatment routes. We'd opted for natural treatments. We'd shared each and every possibility in hopes of finding things that worked for one another. At times, it felt like it was a game. "Have you tried this?" Or, "No I haven't tried that, but have you tried this?" And in those moments, we developed a comradery like no other. We were sisters, even though we didn't share any familial ties. My sweet friend, Lori and her daughter "Why not me?" I asked myself. Why was I allowed to live and she had not been? Trying to make sense of the situation was ridiculous. Cancer has no rhyme or reason. It takes whom it will, when it w

It is so hard to believe I'm currently 5 years post cancer diagnosis! I am officially N.E.D. - no evidence of disease and that completely blows my mind.  Life has been good and I've been busy living it, hence, the lack of posts on my blog.  I do still struggle daily with the residual effects of breast cancer surgery- lymphedema, fibromyalgia, and spinal degeneration. Along with a host of other issues like post cancer PTSD, cording, and insomnia, but I won't bore you. To sum things up, it I were a horse, I'd tell you to take me out and shoot me, but I'm not so I'll suck it up and keep being thankful that I'm still living. Currently, I'm feverishly working on my book, the story of my cancer journey. In 2014, I felt God prompting me to write about this trial but things have gotten in the way. I haven't been able to sit down and spend time focusing on a book but He keeps reminding me, it's His project not mine, so I'd better get bu

Ever have a conversation with your brain? I have. I do almost every single day. In fact, that's part of the problem. I can never get my brain to stop working. Day in and day out, my brain is always working. Random thoughts bombard my mind continually. It's getting to the point that it's interrupting my sleep. Either I don't sleep until the wee hours of the morning, or I find myself waking after only a few hours of sleep. Both scenarios suck. This morning, as it was pitch black outside I found myself awake. Not knowing what time it was, I crept out of bed to keep from waking my husband. Feeling my way into the dining room, I sat at the table and fumbled around to find my Bible. When I can't sleep, I read and my Bible is my book of choice. Using my flashlight, I opened my Bible. It fell open to the book of 2 Corinthians, chapter 5. As I read the chapter, I stopped on verse 21: " God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become th

My youngest granddaughter keeps me young. She knows how to steal my heart. And the fact that she loves art, too, just makes her that much more dear to me.  Since she was little, she's always been interested in art. From the time she was old enough to hold a pencil or crayon, she's been creating. As she's grown a few years older, I've enjoyed introducing her to different mediums. Yesterday, we focused on acrylic paint.  Though she's only 5, she knows exactly what she wants. At our local craft store, I helped her pick out a canvas, some brushes, paint, and a palette. Leaving the store, she was so exuberant I think my heart skipped a few beats. She doesn't know it yet, but this little one is keeping me young.  Choosing a canvas

This is the year I'm supposed to complete my book. That was the impression I got from God as I prayed about it. Over the past few years, I've felt I was supposed to write about the story of how He led me through the valley of breast cancer, but one thing after another has gotten in the way. I'm a firm believer in God's perfect timing and I know, He's been working to get me to a point of obedience regarding this matter. The other day, I heard a sermon that said something along the lines of when we are disobedient to a call God places on our lives, that's the very point Satan steps in and takes advantage of us. That really made me stop and think. Had my busyness been a blatant refusal of being obedient to God's call on my life, I think it probably has been. So, for the past few weeks, I've been focused on making myself sit down and re-read my journals. I've kept a journal since the first day I found a mass in my right breast. It's been hard rea

I don't usually use the word hate. I don't like it very much, but today, I will. Today I got an email from a friend sharing the news that one of her friends was just diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. My friend was reaching out wanting to know how she could help this newly diagnosed friend. As I read through the email, I was not only sad, I got mad. I wasn't mad at the sender. I was mad at the disease. Everywhere, it seems, cancer continues to invade and decimate the lives of unsuspecting men, women, and children. Every single day, I hear of another case of cancer. For some reason, once you've been diagnosed, people assume you're an instant expert on the disease and I'll admit, I have learned an awful lot over the past 5 years but there's still much to know and understand. Naively, I keep thinking one day they'll find a cure for all forms of cancer, but when I think of how much money the big pharmaceutical companies are making from treating th

I’ll never forget my eight-grade year of high school. It was such a pivotal year for me. I’d just become a teenager and had entered the world of exploring my independence. It was an amazing school year. Most of my friends and I had known each other since first grade. We’d attended the same elementary school and were so excited to be leaving Indian Creek. We thought we were hot stuff but had no idea what who we were or where we were headed. My first year of high school was scary. I can still feel those feelings of anxiousness as I wandered down those locker lined hallways. I was a tiny minnow swimming upstream in a sea of hormones. But those scary feelings didn’t last long. Soon I learned my way around the school and began to settle into a comfortable routine. Not long after I’d memorized my class schedule, I began having strange stomach pains. All through the school year, I struggled with extreme nausea and a feeling of something being not quite right in my belly. My mother tho

Growing up, I wasn’t blessed with many material things. Although my Daddy worked long, hard hours, my Mama stayed home taking care of the house, my sister, brother, and I. By all standards, we were poor but my siblings and I didn’t realize it. We had food to eat, clothes to wear, and a roof over our heads. But one day, when I was about six or seven, I can’t recall the exact age now, I found out the truth. I learned that the little amount of money my father brought home was never enough and no matter how my mother tried to stretch it, we always needed more. That need caused my mother to become very resourceful but even with all of her effort, most of our needs were met as God blessed us abundantly through the generosity of others.   One day, not too long after we’d moved to Clarkston from Atlanta, I met our new neighbors. There were two boys and a girl.   Their only girl was a few years older than I. We became fast friends and soon played together every afternoon after school.

I never considered myself an artist, although I wanted to be. Since I was a very young child, I'd loved to dabble in all types of art mediums. From the moment I held my first crayon, I'd fallen in love with art. In grammar school, although I didn't have many tools in the way of art supplies, I found my finger was useful. When I was working on a project for a local social science fair, I chose to do my report on Brazil. For weeks, I read everything I could find on South America. My project was going to focus on the art of bull fighting and the rigorous training fighters must endure. As I compiled my information and wrote my report, I wanted to add a visual aid. Digging through my mother's closet, I found an old canvas and some used oil paints. (She liked to dabble, too.) Flipping through the pages of a large book I'd checked out from the library, I found a photo of a bull. That photo became my inspiration. I had no idea how to use oil paints back then and was u

I am an impatient person, always have been, always will be. And while that's not always a good thing, it's the truth. I just hate waiting. On Tuesday, I spent most of the day at the cancer treatment center. I was scheduled for a biopsy. Dr. H had found an enlarged lymph node along my left clavicle at my last exam. Since that visit, I'd had an ultrasound performed which defined a fairly large node just under my left collar bone. Those findings led the doctor to order an ultrasound-guided biopsy but the thing is, when I went in for the test to be performed, the little radiology tech couldn't find the node! She kept passing the ultrasound wand over and over the area where the node had been. She snapped photos of what she thought might have been the place Dr. H wanted to biopsy. She turned those photos in to the head radiologist for his opinion. She even brought him back into the exam room to talk with me. When he arrived, I didn't know what to think but as a big gr

The biopsy setup with all those sharp instruments Today I was scheduled for a biopsy on an enlarged lymph node on my left clavicle. I wasn't looking forward to it, biopsies hurt, but I trusted my doctor and knew he was watching out for my well being. As I got ready for the trip to the cancer treatment center, I didn't realize how nervous I was about today's visit until I started to put in my earrings. My hands were shaking so badly I couldn't find the hole to insert my earring. That was not a good sign. I must have been internally fearful and my body's fight or flight system was saying, run, run, run! I didn't run. I realized I had to put on my big girl panties and be brave. I've been having to do that a lot lately. When I got to the cancer treatment center, the imaging room was packed full. As I glanced around, I saw some familiar faces and many new ones. After check-in, I found a seat and waited to be called back. Usually, it only takes a few m