March is looking like a month of "lasts". My last chemo was postponed from Feb. 25 to March 2. And my last radiation looks like it'll be March 30 or so, depending on weather delays.
I'm looking forward to being done with everything regarding treatment for cancer. I think that goes without saying, although I just said it. Again.
Spring is around the corner and we're ready. I've become so used to short winters that this winter seems especially long. Temps around Alabama have usually already started climbing by late February. Come on sunny and warm days!
May March pass amazingly quickly! Please!
Thursday, February 26, 2015
Sunday, February 8, 2015
As I sit here this Sunday morning with my quart of coffee (yes. quart. litre. a lot), I'm reflecting on the events of the past year. February 4 (last week) marked one year since my diagnosis with breast cancer. One year ago. To remember the emotions hitting me at that time is enough to raise my blood pressure. So, I won't. What I will remember is the way all my care was orchestrated and fell into place and felt specifically tailored for me. I will remember in spite of the weather delays in getting appointments, everything was going to be okay. I will remember the trauma of my first biopsy made it clear to my dear friend Ami that she was going to make it a point to be with me for any potentially traumatic appointment. And she was. And if she couldn't be, Anne-Marie was there. Or Kristi would pop her head in the mammogram room to see if I was okay - taking a break from her pharmaceutical job where she was mixing MY meds for my chemo. My friend making my medicine. Perfect.
I will remember the day of my first chemo receiving so many texts and messages saying, basically, "You got this, Lisa", over and over again until I actually began believing it. I will remember coming home to flowers, cards, gifts and food that first day. I will remember having so many meals delivered to my door that now the list has exceeded 100 meals. That's around 10 meals a month! For a whole year!
I will remember the kindness of my workplace. The space and time they give me to recover and still do my job. And when I fail, the grace they show me. Wow.
I will remember the two weeks straight I got to spend with my little sister Kristy when she came to take care of me after the mastectomy. The diligence with which she watched my "drains" and kept them clear and wrote down when I took my meds, and tended to my every need. I will remember the visits from my older sister Janet and her smiles, the games we played, the attention she gave her nephews so I could rest. The movies, but mostly her smiles.
I will remember the time my parents gave me - both sets. My parents sat with me, folded laundry, fixed broken things around the house, and loved on me. My in-laws sent notes, love, texts, gifts, and visits, too. What a blessing to enjoy your family!
I'm leaving people out and I don't want to do that, so I'll stop here. Just know that you are remembered. I have a list. For real.
Now I face the end of this journey. The good end. One more chemo - last chemo - on February 25. Radiation therapy starts this week on the 11th. I'll be ready for a big celebration Spring Break - by that week (which is March 27-April 5), I should be finished with all cancer treatments.
Above all, I have to say, again, God is always good all of the time. I believe that now.
I will remember the day of my first chemo receiving so many texts and messages saying, basically, "You got this, Lisa", over and over again until I actually began believing it. I will remember coming home to flowers, cards, gifts and food that first day. I will remember having so many meals delivered to my door that now the list has exceeded 100 meals. That's around 10 meals a month! For a whole year!
I will remember the kindness of my workplace. The space and time they give me to recover and still do my job. And when I fail, the grace they show me. Wow.
I will remember the two weeks straight I got to spend with my little sister Kristy when she came to take care of me after the mastectomy. The diligence with which she watched my "drains" and kept them clear and wrote down when I took my meds, and tended to my every need. I will remember the visits from my older sister Janet and her smiles, the games we played, the attention she gave her nephews so I could rest. The movies, but mostly her smiles.
I will remember the time my parents gave me - both sets. My parents sat with me, folded laundry, fixed broken things around the house, and loved on me. My in-laws sent notes, love, texts, gifts, and visits, too. What a blessing to enjoy your family!
I'm leaving people out and I don't want to do that, so I'll stop here. Just know that you are remembered. I have a list. For real.
Now I face the end of this journey. The good end. One more chemo - last chemo - on February 25. Radiation therapy starts this week on the 11th. I'll be ready for a big celebration Spring Break - by that week (which is March 27-April 5), I should be finished with all cancer treatments.
Above all, I have to say, again, God is always good all of the time. I believe that now.
Monday, February 2, 2015
Autobiography:
There once was a little girl who had few words. The words she had were all tucked away in her head. Tucked away like that they grew like apples on a tree. More and more trees and apples grew until she had whole buckets full of words. Enough to start creating a wonderful world. Right there in her head. What things she saw. What wondrous places she went. And what lovely friends she had.
One day a strong wind blew through her apple orchard and knocked all the apples off the trees. It was so sad. The little girl fell to her knees mid-dance and started crying. There were no more words. And the ones she had were rotting on the ground. For a long time the little girl walked around silently, wondering if she would ever dance in her wonderful world again.
A boy showed up one day out of nowhere. He went over to the girl and took her hand. He asked her to walk with him for a while. As they walked, the wind grew colder and the sky grew cloudy. She didn't like this place. It was noisy and cold. But the boy's hand was warm, and his grip on her was strong, and comforting.
She was not in her head anymore. She was in the real world. Sometimes it was sunny and warm, and sometimes it was cold and rainy. And the boy was always with her.
Her words slowly came back. Lots of words on the once bare apple trees in her head. But instead of creating worlds for herself like she used to do. She let the words out. Good luck getting her to shut up.
There once was a little girl who had few words. The words she had were all tucked away in her head. Tucked away like that they grew like apples on a tree. More and more trees and apples grew until she had whole buckets full of words. Enough to start creating a wonderful world. Right there in her head. What things she saw. What wondrous places she went. And what lovely friends she had.
One day a strong wind blew through her apple orchard and knocked all the apples off the trees. It was so sad. The little girl fell to her knees mid-dance and started crying. There were no more words. And the ones she had were rotting on the ground. For a long time the little girl walked around silently, wondering if she would ever dance in her wonderful world again.
A boy showed up one day out of nowhere. He went over to the girl and took her hand. He asked her to walk with him for a while. As they walked, the wind grew colder and the sky grew cloudy. She didn't like this place. It was noisy and cold. But the boy's hand was warm, and his grip on her was strong, and comforting.
She was not in her head anymore. She was in the real world. Sometimes it was sunny and warm, and sometimes it was cold and rainy. And the boy was always with her.
Her words slowly came back. Lots of words on the once bare apple trees in her head. But instead of creating worlds for herself like she used to do. She let the words out. Good luck getting her to shut up.
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