What's it all about, Alfie?

Have you ever started a day with a song running through your mind? I have this happen to me a good bit and often, the songs come very early in the morning. This morning, it was 4:30 a.m. Not a popular time for most people to be awake and not particularly a time when people think about singing, but there it was...first a gentle whisper and then growing louder and louder.

The name of the song was "What's it all about, Alfie." The song became popular in the late 60s and I remember hearing it often on the radio as I'd get ready for school. The tune was pleasant and thought provoking. Dionne Warwick did a splendid job of singing the song written by Burt Bacharach.

Back then, I didn't grasp the meaning of the words as I listened to the song. If I'd realized the depth of it then, I'm sure I would have liked it even more than I did at the time.

The older I get, the more melancholy I've become. Maybe it's because I'm realizing there are more years behind me than ahead of me. Maybe it's because I've finally realized how very precious life is - I have breast cancer to thank for that. In my B.C. days (before cancer) I took a lot for granted.

Burt's song this morning, reminded me that without love we just exist. The Bible tells us that love is the most important thing of all. We're to love God with all of our heart, soul, mind and strength - that's the first commandment, but then, we're also supposed to love others as ourselves. Sometimes that can be a tall order especially when people aren't quite as lovable as we'd like them to be.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if everyone in the world could grasp the concept that love is really all it takes to make the world go 'round?

Well, I just realized I'm really dating myself with these song references but that's okay. I'm getting old and I have the white hair to prove it!

What's it all about? None of us really understand but if we can focus on learning to love and love well, I think we're halfway there.

I sure hope I don't wake up at the crack of dawn in the morning with another song in my head. If I do, I'd like to pick something with a little less depth - maybe Harvest Moon by Neil Young. Now that's a song I could wake up to every morning!

If you're not familiar with Burt Bacharach's song, here are the lyrics. You can listen to Dionne Warwick singing it here.

What's it all about, Alfie?
Is it just for the moment we live?
What's it all about when you sort it out, Alfie?
Are we meant to take more than we give
Or are we meant to be kind?
And if only fools are kind, Alfie,
Then I guess it's wise to be cruel.
And if life belongs only to the strong, Alfie,
What will you lend on an old golden rule?
As sure as I believe there's a heaven above, Alfie,
I know there's something much more,
Something even non-believers can believe in.
I believe in love, Alfie.
Without true love we just exist, Alfie.
Until you find the love you've missed you're nothing, Alfie.
When you walk let your heart lead the way
And you'll find love any day, Alfie, Alfie.

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out

Sometimes I just want to pull my hair out, especially when I read a friend's blog post and I just can't wrap my head around it. This morning, I was reading a post from a fellow breast cancer survivor. She said her cancer has returned and is growing in her spine. As soon as I read the words, I burst into tears. I just didn't understand! We'd been diagnosed with the same type of cancer in the same year. How could it be that her cancer had returned and mine had not? And what made it even more difficult to understand and accept was the fact that she'd chosen to go the traditional treatment route. I'd opted not to do that. She'd endured chemotherapy, radiation, and the anti-hormone therapy afterward. I'd refused chemo, had done 28 rounds of radiation, and had only taken the anti-hormone drugs for a couple of months. It just didn't compute and it certainly didn't seem fair. But that's what sucks about cancer. It doesn't follow the rules.

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There's a basket of bills sitting in the corner of my bedroom. I try not to look at it as I enter the room but I know it's there. Its contents spill out onto the floor whenever my husband stuffs another bill into the basket. Usually, when the mail comes, he gets it first so he can filter what I see and what I don't see. Since he's the only one working, he takes care of our financial responsibilities and while I'm thankful for that, I'm not ignorant about our mounting bills. Cancer is expensive. Even if you've reached maintenance phase, it's costly. There are always tests to be run, blood to be taken, doctors to see. It never ends. Just knowing this will be a continual process for the rest of my life frustrates me and the alternative, death, will be my only way out. It would be nice to know that cancer could be a once and done kind of thing but that's only wishful thinking. Everyone knows cancer is a long and very involved illness. I had no id

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When I was a kid, I remember listening to my Daddy occasionally talk about being in the service. Those occasions were very rare so whenever he'd talk, I'd really listen. Once he told about being outside a bunker in Japan. He said planes were flying overhead and he heard a guy yell, "Incoming!" They knew that meant it was imperative to take cover and they did, but some of the soldiers weren't fast enough. They lost their lives in a split second. That one word was a very serious warning and one I never forgot. I think my eyes bugged out of my head when he first said it although he didn't say it in a frightening way. I imagined the sounds of aircraft overhead as the warning went out. And imagined how I'd have felt if I'd been right there with him. I'd have been petrified, probably unable to move. No wonder so many soldiers came back from war with post traumatic stress syndrome (PTSD). And when they were freshly home, it didn't take much to set t

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