The nurse from the cancer center was setting up my appointment for the bone marrow biopsy over the phone. After making sure I knew the when and where, she asked if I had any questions. Thinking of the previous biopsy, I asked if I should bring a driver, assuming they would drug me.
"Oh, no," she replied. "You might be a little tender at the site, but you should be able to drive yourself just fine." I was dubious, but OK. I know she told me that the whole procedure would only take about 20 minutes, but I was having a hard time with the no drugs part of it.
Turns out a friend of mine drove me anyways (even though Kiel had offered in an attempt to get out of class). We arrived at Strong early enough to hit the coffee stand, then headed for Suite B in the Wilmot Cancer Clinic. We sat and chatted until they called my name, and I headed through the big door and down the hall, managing the usual check in blood pressure, temperature, weight thing.
This time, instead of an examining room, I was seated in a procedure room. It was a bit intimidating staring at a wall filled with medical equipment - otoscopes, blood pressure cuffs, taps for air and oxygen, probes etc. Over the gurney was a high intensity light on a flexible arm, and on the counter by the sink, a large plastic tub labeled "Bone Marrow Biopsy."
I sat for about ten minutes before a pleasant woman introduced herself as the nurse who would be doing the biopsy for me today. "Did they explain the procedure?" I shook my head. "The doctor only said it was not any worse that what I had already experienced." She laughed. "You sure have been through it, haven't you?" Her eyes sparkled.
She talked me through what would happen, being quite frank about what I would experience. I appreciated that about her. I lay on my tummy and she tucked pads over my blouse and the lowered waistband of my pants.
"You will feel a bit of burning while I give you some lidocaine to numb your skin. Now a bit of a pinch while I do a deeper shot to the top of the bone. And one more - you may feel this shoot down your leg." After a bit of a pause, "You'll feel some pressure while I push the needle into your hip bone," then "here's some pressure while I draw out some fluid. Just breathe short breaths if it hurts too much," and finally, "Now I'll take the piece of bone marrow. It will take me ten seconds - breathe slow and easy and focus on your breathing. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, f-i-v-e, f--o--u--r, th-r-e-e, two, one - done. Done! We are all set. I'm taking the needle out. Good. Hand me that pressure bandaid (to the lab tech). OK. You did very well. As soon as you feel comfortable, roll over on your back to put some pressure on the area. You didn't have any stitches, but keep the pressure dressing on until tomorrow. Lie still, and I'll be back in a few minutes with your discharge instructions."
Whoosh. She exited. The lab tech asked if I had any blood drawn today, but I didn't. That meant a finger stick and four or five slides, and then she also went out of the room, leaving me alone to mull over the event. Not so bad, really. I felt a bit shaky, but that cleared in a few minutes. The room was cool and quiet and I was facing away from the wall of gear.
One test down, one to go. The nurse returned with the paperwork, gave me a few instructions, and I did indeed wobble out on my own. I could well have driven home, but I was glad my friend was there and I didn't have to deal with driving. My behind was a bit tender. I thought I should have a treat for going through that so bravely - any excuse, right?
At first, I thought I would stop at Russell's and get a soft ice cream cone. Then I thought it might be better not to reward myself with food. So what would I like to get? Ah, a CD! Yes, maybe something by one of my favorite choral groups. Maybe St Olaf Choir or Gloria Dei or Chanticleer. I think I'll check and see who has a new CD out. Yes, it's gonna be a good day.
My friend dropped my at home, and Kiel was back from class. He got lunch, and I just sat in the blue recliner and watched a bit of TV and took a few deep breaths. I have to get to work. Since this is my night to work the evening shift, I didn't even miss work. I just have to hang in there until late. I'm getting used to the double life. By day, a mild mannered (yeah, right) librarian, by off hours, a cutting edge cancer patient. Hum.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Worming Your Way Along
After it rains, the sidewalks and parking lots are littered with the bodies of hundreds of drowned earthworms - long and skinny, fat and short, cut in half, mushed - all of them popped out of the parched earth to escape their toxic environment and to drink deeply of the cooling water. Alas! They become stranded by the hard asphalt and cannot return to the safety of the soft earth.
Today I made my way across campus, tiptoeing gingerly around the dead carcasses, amazed at how many died in the recent deluge. People around me seemed oblivious, their flipflops schlapping the black walkways with careless abandon.
Here and there, a lone worm still wriggled, trying desperately to escape. Millimeter by millimeter they scootched their way slowing, agonizingly, toward the brilliant green grass. You could almost hear them gasping from the heat of the scorching sun.
It was a hopeless cause. I cannot assist all the little wrigglers who need help. It would take more years than I have to give. And most of the wrigglers look too far spent to survive even with help. It would take several armies to work through campus. Just keep walking. Never mind their plight.
And yet.
And yet I feel so helpless. I know the value of a good earthworm. I care nothing for species self regulation through genocide. I see one stalwart fellow too too far from the green, striving to move around a stick. Yes, I will help him. I gently lift him over the twig and place him in the green grass.
I stoop down to see what will happen. At first, he just lay there, not moving. Then slowly, imperceptibly, one end began to burrow down into the rich brown dirt. I hovered over the spot for awhile, until I had to leave. He was more than half way disappeared when I departed.
I wish him and all his kindred well.
Today I made my way across campus, tiptoeing gingerly around the dead carcasses, amazed at how many died in the recent deluge. People around me seemed oblivious, their flipflops schlapping the black walkways with careless abandon.
Here and there, a lone worm still wriggled, trying desperately to escape. Millimeter by millimeter they scootched their way slowing, agonizingly, toward the brilliant green grass. You could almost hear them gasping from the heat of the scorching sun.
It was a hopeless cause. I cannot assist all the little wrigglers who need help. It would take more years than I have to give. And most of the wrigglers look too far spent to survive even with help. It would take several armies to work through campus. Just keep walking. Never mind their plight.
And yet.
And yet I feel so helpless. I know the value of a good earthworm. I care nothing for species self regulation through genocide. I see one stalwart fellow too too far from the green, striving to move around a stick. Yes, I will help him. I gently lift him over the twig and place him in the green grass.
I stoop down to see what will happen. At first, he just lay there, not moving. Then slowly, imperceptibly, one end began to burrow down into the rich brown dirt. I hovered over the spot for awhile, until I had to leave. He was more than half way disappeared when I departed.
I wish him and all his kindred well.
Monday, April 27, 2009
Retirements
This year, four esteemed Roberts Wesleyan faculty will retire. I have attend three of the four events so far, each one filled to overflowing with testimonials by those who have labored beside them for decades as well as for a mere semester.
Kind words, lists of accomplishments, appreciative hugs, tears, and general bittersweet celebration of the dedication of people who have poured their lives into the formation of students, into the creation of a proper environment for young lives to be nurtured and mentored and loved.
Rare enough for there to be one person so well regarded by colleagues and students alike, but four! In one place! Amazing. And thought provoking. In this day and age, unique to find someone who has remained for so long in one place and did not end up disgruntled or disrespected.
Even more amazing to hear of the plans for moving into missions work, for traveling to less fortunate corners of the world to continue pouring out their labors to those who need a hand, a bit of support to get on their feet. These people are not retiring! They are changing one career for another. There is no slowing down, only a change of venue.
I am touched by their legacy. Can we who remain live up to their standards, keep the old fashioned ethics going in a world spinning faster than ever? Can we survive as many decades and still be standing much less smiling - or entering into phase 2?
I am not sure I can do that. But I am encouraged that in this environment, perhaps it might be possible to make a difference, to build something solid and enduring and of good quality. Providing the economy doesn't interfere!
Kind words, lists of accomplishments, appreciative hugs, tears, and general bittersweet celebration of the dedication of people who have poured their lives into the formation of students, into the creation of a proper environment for young lives to be nurtured and mentored and loved.
Rare enough for there to be one person so well regarded by colleagues and students alike, but four! In one place! Amazing. And thought provoking. In this day and age, unique to find someone who has remained for so long in one place and did not end up disgruntled or disrespected.
Even more amazing to hear of the plans for moving into missions work, for traveling to less fortunate corners of the world to continue pouring out their labors to those who need a hand, a bit of support to get on their feet. These people are not retiring! They are changing one career for another. There is no slowing down, only a change of venue.
I am touched by their legacy. Can we who remain live up to their standards, keep the old fashioned ethics going in a world spinning faster than ever? Can we survive as many decades and still be standing much less smiling - or entering into phase 2?
I am not sure I can do that. But I am encouraged that in this environment, perhaps it might be possible to make a difference, to build something solid and enduring and of good quality. Providing the economy doesn't interfere!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Senior Dinner
Last year we held our first Formal Graduation Dinner in the new Library facility. We had a dozen seniors, many of whom had worked here for their full four years, and we wanted to have an evening of appreciation to thank them and tell them how special they were to us.
We decided on tablecloths, real china and stemware, full service, flowers, candles, the whole works. We presented them with a personalized mug with the library pictured on it. One night of elegance cannot really express how much we value their faithfulness, their competence, their good natured willingness to do the boring tasks we ask of them. But in some small way, perhaps it will let them know that they are not taken for granted.
It worked well last year, but of course, as with all new events, we learned how to do it better, what worked, what could be improved. This year, we have eighteen seniors graduating! A different case requiring some sculpting on top of the changes we wanted to implement over last year's event.
Our committee plotted and planned for weeks. Our chairwoman had been part of last year's event as a student. This year, she was learning how to function on the other side. What a joy to work with such gifted people who's hearts are filled with pleasure at preparing something for others with grace and love.
A week before the event, dishes and glasses and water pitchers, salt and pepper shakers, cream and sugar and gravy boats, cans of condiments and bread baskets began to appear in the staff break room. Little hand lettered signs begged that no one disturb the stacks - they were sacrosanct for the Graduation Dinner!
Let me tell you, these people know how to entertain! They have it down to a science. The night of the event, the break room was filled with happy people carving "Congrats!" in the butter sticks, folding napkins around bread baskets, filling salad plates with spinach, almonds and mandarin orange slices.
Everyone scurried about, anxious to do their part, to ensure that our grads had a great evening. Students arrived, staff chatted with them over crackers and cheese, fruit and punch in the Conference Room. Then we moved down to the Fireside Reading Room which had been transformed to an elegant dining room.
The china gleamed, the glassware sparkled, the flowers filled the room with a light fragrance. Lining the mantel were certificates and cellophane wrapped mugs. The smorgasbord groaned under a full turkey dinner with mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, dressing, cranberries, gravy, green bean casserole - and at the head of the sideboard, properly attired, our Head of Collection Services in white gloves merrily carving the bird, laying slices on plates, making conversation as the line passed by.
As with last year, students were a little unsure of what to expect at the hors d'oeuvres, a bit more at ease once seated, and by the end of the meal, comfortable. After the presentation of certificates and mugs, we shared pumpkin mousse and brownies over a cup of hot decaf or tea while we chatted. No one was in a hurry to leave, lingering until papers finally called and the first brave soul departed.
It was a good dinner. I think we will tweak it a bit for next year, but it went well. Kudos to our newbie organizer for a job well done. And now, back to papers and deadlines!
We decided on tablecloths, real china and stemware, full service, flowers, candles, the whole works. We presented them with a personalized mug with the library pictured on it. One night of elegance cannot really express how much we value their faithfulness, their competence, their good natured willingness to do the boring tasks we ask of them. But in some small way, perhaps it will let them know that they are not taken for granted.
It worked well last year, but of course, as with all new events, we learned how to do it better, what worked, what could be improved. This year, we have eighteen seniors graduating! A different case requiring some sculpting on top of the changes we wanted to implement over last year's event.
Our committee plotted and planned for weeks. Our chairwoman had been part of last year's event as a student. This year, she was learning how to function on the other side. What a joy to work with such gifted people who's hearts are filled with pleasure at preparing something for others with grace and love.
A week before the event, dishes and glasses and water pitchers, salt and pepper shakers, cream and sugar and gravy boats, cans of condiments and bread baskets began to appear in the staff break room. Little hand lettered signs begged that no one disturb the stacks - they were sacrosanct for the Graduation Dinner!
Let me tell you, these people know how to entertain! They have it down to a science. The night of the event, the break room was filled with happy people carving "Congrats!" in the butter sticks, folding napkins around bread baskets, filling salad plates with spinach, almonds and mandarin orange slices.
Everyone scurried about, anxious to do their part, to ensure that our grads had a great evening. Students arrived, staff chatted with them over crackers and cheese, fruit and punch in the Conference Room. Then we moved down to the Fireside Reading Room which had been transformed to an elegant dining room.
The china gleamed, the glassware sparkled, the flowers filled the room with a light fragrance. Lining the mantel were certificates and cellophane wrapped mugs. The smorgasbord groaned under a full turkey dinner with mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, dressing, cranberries, gravy, green bean casserole - and at the head of the sideboard, properly attired, our Head of Collection Services in white gloves merrily carving the bird, laying slices on plates, making conversation as the line passed by.
As with last year, students were a little unsure of what to expect at the hors d'oeuvres, a bit more at ease once seated, and by the end of the meal, comfortable. After the presentation of certificates and mugs, we shared pumpkin mousse and brownies over a cup of hot decaf or tea while we chatted. No one was in a hurry to leave, lingering until papers finally called and the first brave soul departed.
It was a good dinner. I think we will tweak it a bit for next year, but it went well. Kudos to our newbie organizer for a job well done. And now, back to papers and deadlines!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Back to Doctor Hunting
My Primary Care Provider changed which hospital she is affiliated with, and sent a letter letting us know about it. At first, I didn't think anything about it, but as I am getting more deeply into reopening the cancer treatment, I realize that the communications link is broken.
It was great that she could just click into my record and see the tests that were being run, see the treatments discussed, etc. And equally important, my oncologists could see what she was working on. Now that piece has become more complicated and cumbersome.
Last visit, my oncologist told me that I have to get a better handle on my blood pressure. Especially in light of dealing with the stress of treatments, she didn't want the added complication. I agree. But first I have to find a new PCP who is in the same hospital system, one that can work more closely with my oncologists. She tells me that she is more than willing to go to bat on my behalf if necessary. Just let her know.
So I begin the crazy process again. Nothing has changed. I call the doctor referral line, and they tell me two places that are accepting new patients within their system. I call the first number. "I'm sorry, the number you have called is no longer in service . . ." They have moved, and, oh, btw, they are no longer accepting new patients!
I call the second number, and one of the menu options is the new patient referral line. This is more promising. I call, get voice mail and leave a message. In two days, I find a voice mail message on my phone saying that if I am still interested in becoming a new patient, to call the number. I call, get voice mail, leave a message. This silly game goes on for over a week. I am frustrated.
I go to the website for the hospital and wade through hundreds of pages, trying to sort through the information and figure out who might be taking new patients. Its easy to know who isn't since their personal page clearly states at the top NOT ACCEPTING NEW PATIENTS. I jot down several likely candidates and call. Nope.
Back to the website. It isn't very up to date - there are doctors listed who have moved out of the area. I ponder this roadblock. Ideally, I should be able to interview a number of doctors to see who might be a good match for my needs and health issues. It would be nice to get in early with a geriatric specialist since the news tells us that is becoming a huge problem what with boomers needs and all. This is what I get for moving around so much and not being established in an area!
I decide to sleep on it, even though I have a list of new potential candidates. At home, I talk to the good Lord about this. "Lord, you know I need a good doctor who is going to be helpful with all the stuff I am dealing with - someone who will work well with my oncologist, who will help me sort out the normal health issues from the cancer ones. Can you please direct me?"
The next day, I take one more look at the website. Suddenly, there is a name that jumps off the monitor at me. I read her background and interests. Yes, this sounds like a good match. I call the number. A friendly voice on the other end takes my information and a bit of my history. She asks the name of the referring doctor, I give her my oncologist's name. Maybe the uniqueness of my cancer will interest her!
They tell me it will take awhile for them to put my name through their process - they are selective apparently! They will call and let me know. I am praying that they will take me on. Otherwise, its back to the drawing board - or rather, the website.
It was great that she could just click into my record and see the tests that were being run, see the treatments discussed, etc. And equally important, my oncologists could see what she was working on. Now that piece has become more complicated and cumbersome.
Last visit, my oncologist told me that I have to get a better handle on my blood pressure. Especially in light of dealing with the stress of treatments, she didn't want the added complication. I agree. But first I have to find a new PCP who is in the same hospital system, one that can work more closely with my oncologists. She tells me that she is more than willing to go to bat on my behalf if necessary. Just let her know.
So I begin the crazy process again. Nothing has changed. I call the doctor referral line, and they tell me two places that are accepting new patients within their system. I call the first number. "I'm sorry, the number you have called is no longer in service . . ." They have moved, and, oh, btw, they are no longer accepting new patients!
I call the second number, and one of the menu options is the new patient referral line. This is more promising. I call, get voice mail and leave a message. In two days, I find a voice mail message on my phone saying that if I am still interested in becoming a new patient, to call the number. I call, get voice mail, leave a message. This silly game goes on for over a week. I am frustrated.
I go to the website for the hospital and wade through hundreds of pages, trying to sort through the information and figure out who might be taking new patients. Its easy to know who isn't since their personal page clearly states at the top NOT ACCEPTING NEW PATIENTS. I jot down several likely candidates and call. Nope.
Back to the website. It isn't very up to date - there are doctors listed who have moved out of the area. I ponder this roadblock. Ideally, I should be able to interview a number of doctors to see who might be a good match for my needs and health issues. It would be nice to get in early with a geriatric specialist since the news tells us that is becoming a huge problem what with boomers needs and all. This is what I get for moving around so much and not being established in an area!
I decide to sleep on it, even though I have a list of new potential candidates. At home, I talk to the good Lord about this. "Lord, you know I need a good doctor who is going to be helpful with all the stuff I am dealing with - someone who will work well with my oncologist, who will help me sort out the normal health issues from the cancer ones. Can you please direct me?"
The next day, I take one more look at the website. Suddenly, there is a name that jumps off the monitor at me. I read her background and interests. Yes, this sounds like a good match. I call the number. A friendly voice on the other end takes my information and a bit of my history. She asks the name of the referring doctor, I give her my oncologist's name. Maybe the uniqueness of my cancer will interest her!
They tell me it will take awhile for them to put my name through their process - they are selective apparently! They will call and let me know. I am praying that they will take me on. Otherwise, its back to the drawing board - or rather, the website.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Gearing Up
So, I have work to do to prepare for the oncoming. For one thing, I need to update my legal paperwork - my will, power of attorney, medical proxy, etal. After all, its been almost five years since I put all that stuff in place. Then I need to reconnect with my sister who is the appointed guardian for Drew should, God forbid, things take a nasty turn.
I want to make sure the entire apartment is organized, that I have prepared financially for extended leave from work, that all those little things I have been meaning to take care of are finished.
Beyond the blessing of being able to prepare for the worst case scenario (plan your own funeral?), there is also the "get strong and be as exercised physically, spiritually, mentally as you can get in two weeks" part. I ordered a set of Scripture memorization CDs - learn one verse a week for an entire year! I prepared another set of Scripture slides for my digital picture frame.
I brought a comfy chair, lamp, blanket, pillows into my office in case I need to rest during treatment. I created an office at home so I can work from there, including getting a modem for internet access. I stocked up on aspirin, skin creams, got a new hot water bottle, made sure there is Jello and soup in the larder.
I am back to walking in the morning, and I loaded more music on my iPod for filling my mind with positive, uplifting, joy. I gave away the unnecessities, threw away the no longer viable, fixed the broken, replaced the not good enough.
And most of all, I hug my kids a lot. A lot. Connect. Tell them I love them. Working on things. Getting there. Hope there is enough time to set a firm basis of strength.
I want to make sure the entire apartment is organized, that I have prepared financially for extended leave from work, that all those little things I have been meaning to take care of are finished.
Beyond the blessing of being able to prepare for the worst case scenario (plan your own funeral?), there is also the "get strong and be as exercised physically, spiritually, mentally as you can get in two weeks" part. I ordered a set of Scripture memorization CDs - learn one verse a week for an entire year! I prepared another set of Scripture slides for my digital picture frame.
I brought a comfy chair, lamp, blanket, pillows into my office in case I need to rest during treatment. I created an office at home so I can work from there, including getting a modem for internet access. I stocked up on aspirin, skin creams, got a new hot water bottle, made sure there is Jello and soup in the larder.
I am back to walking in the morning, and I loaded more music on my iPod for filling my mind with positive, uplifting, joy. I gave away the unnecessities, threw away the no longer viable, fixed the broken, replaced the not good enough.
And most of all, I hug my kids a lot. A lot. Connect. Tell them I love them. Working on things. Getting there. Hope there is enough time to set a firm basis of strength.
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The Good Things About Cancer
Can there really be something good about having cancer? Its a stretch, for sure, but if you look hard enough, you can Pollyanna enough stuff to smile about when the chips aren't too far down. Things like, for some, it saves a lot of time combing you hair; or, its a great weight loss program. Sure fire, actually.
It certainly gets your priorities straightened up, and makes you deal with those "someday when I have time" projects. Family connections grow stronger and suddenly those issues that kept you from seeing a friend seem oddly small and unimportant.
But there are other benefits that might not be quite so obvious. If you don't want to do something, you can just say, "I'm not feeling up to it," and people understand. And when the lines are long at the ladies' room, you can put on your best green face, tip a little to the side and say, "do you mind if I go ahead of you? I have cancer." And then there's the ever popular "I'm too tired to (fill in the blank). And you certainly don't get lonely what with all the doctor appointments and tests and procedures. You hardly have a minute to yourself somedays!
Not that I am advocating any abuse of these tactics, just that for a change you learn to pace things better and go easy on yourself because you know that you need all your energy to fight the dread disease crawling around inside you.
It also makes you appreciate the good days and learn to celebrate the important joys in life. Any day you can sit up by yourself and eat real food is a good day. Every day you are able to go to work, to perform household chores, to listen with joy to music - those are great days. You never take for granted the amazing gift of good health, of being comfortable and pain free, of being able to think about something other than the all consuming cancer thing.
So we of the sisterhood of cancer survivors are a blessed bunch. I have many friends who have lived through varying degrees of cancer crap, but they one and all understand what I am talking about, and without a word, know how to come alongside and support when things go south, as they often can and do.
Yes, there are some good things about having cancer. But I wouldn't recommend going through cancer to get ahold of these blessings. Just grab them on your own. I do recommend the mindset.
It certainly gets your priorities straightened up, and makes you deal with those "someday when I have time" projects. Family connections grow stronger and suddenly those issues that kept you from seeing a friend seem oddly small and unimportant.
But there are other benefits that might not be quite so obvious. If you don't want to do something, you can just say, "I'm not feeling up to it," and people understand. And when the lines are long at the ladies' room, you can put on your best green face, tip a little to the side and say, "do you mind if I go ahead of you? I have cancer." And then there's the ever popular "I'm too tired to (fill in the blank). And you certainly don't get lonely what with all the doctor appointments and tests and procedures. You hardly have a minute to yourself somedays!
Not that I am advocating any abuse of these tactics, just that for a change you learn to pace things better and go easy on yourself because you know that you need all your energy to fight the dread disease crawling around inside you.
It also makes you appreciate the good days and learn to celebrate the important joys in life. Any day you can sit up by yourself and eat real food is a good day. Every day you are able to go to work, to perform household chores, to listen with joy to music - those are great days. You never take for granted the amazing gift of good health, of being comfortable and pain free, of being able to think about something other than the all consuming cancer thing.
So we of the sisterhood of cancer survivors are a blessed bunch. I have many friends who have lived through varying degrees of cancer crap, but they one and all understand what I am talking about, and without a word, know how to come alongside and support when things go south, as they often can and do.
Yes, there are some good things about having cancer. But I wouldn't recommend going through cancer to get ahold of these blessings. Just grab them on your own. I do recommend the mindset.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Bone Weary
Last night after class, my right foot was hurting. Its been bothering me some lately, puffing up and being a nuisance. But this was more than usual. I took off my sneaker which I have taken to wearing because the soles of my feet hurt so much these days and took a look.
What on earth was that yellow lump? Yikes! I am thinking this is a lymph gland rearing its ugly self. I have never seen the likes before. And above it a big puffy area. The other foot is fine, so it can't be some blood pressure thing. Oy. I have felt a bit puffy all day in various places, maybe this one just went whole hog.
Well, nothing to do but elevate and rest. Hopefully it will go down by morning and behave better. Sure hope that insurance company comes through with the OK for the PET scan and bone marrow biopsy soon. Not that I really want to have the tests, but I need to get the action plan in place before something else decides to swell up and go crazy.
What on earth was that yellow lump? Yikes! I am thinking this is a lymph gland rearing its ugly self. I have never seen the likes before. And above it a big puffy area. The other foot is fine, so it can't be some blood pressure thing. Oy. I have felt a bit puffy all day in various places, maybe this one just went whole hog.
Well, nothing to do but elevate and rest. Hopefully it will go down by morning and behave better. Sure hope that insurance company comes through with the OK for the PET scan and bone marrow biopsy soon. Not that I really want to have the tests, but I need to get the action plan in place before something else decides to swell up and go crazy.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Keeping the Sails Trimmed
Drew is home all week for Spring Break. I thought he would be champing at the bit to visit friends and gad about and do stuff. He has not asked for those things. He plans to do some yard work for the people who hired him last year, and rest. It seems quite odd!
Perhaps he really is growing up. I was totally taken aback when I came home and found that he had cleaned the entire apartment without my asking him to - dishes, laundry and all! How did that happen? And he didn't ask me for anything either. Wonders never cease. Perhaps my constant rhetoric about work finally got through to him. I don't know. But I am greatly relieved and blessed to have help with stuff.
I admit the conference delayed my usual weekend flurry of getting everything back in its place. And my constant running to the doctors and for tests has certainly taken its toll in time and energy. Not that things were all that bad, but the contrast was striking. The living room was downright inviting and almost sparkling. Even the kitchen was in good shape.
Thanks, Drew for helping me. I appreciate it a lot. You are helping keep us on course, helping keep our sails trim and our rudder on course. Good job.
Perhaps he really is growing up. I was totally taken aback when I came home and found that he had cleaned the entire apartment without my asking him to - dishes, laundry and all! How did that happen? And he didn't ask me for anything either. Wonders never cease. Perhaps my constant rhetoric about work finally got through to him. I don't know. But I am greatly relieved and blessed to have help with stuff.
I admit the conference delayed my usual weekend flurry of getting everything back in its place. And my constant running to the doctors and for tests has certainly taken its toll in time and energy. Not that things were all that bad, but the contrast was striking. The living room was downright inviting and almost sparkling. Even the kitchen was in good shape.
Thanks, Drew for helping me. I appreciate it a lot. You are helping keep us on course, helping keep our sails trim and our rudder on course. Good job.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Giving Back
Today I filled out my form for my United Way donation which can be deducted directly from my pay. Our President encouraged us via video to embrace our community and support worthy causes here in this area.
As I perused the information pack, I was astounded at the vast number of non profit organizations in this area. Just the ones listed for our consideration through the United Way included about 650 names and covered a wide range of assistance and service, everything from foodbanks and child care agencies to hospice, cancer and other disease associations and everything inbetween.
I wondered as I filled in my preferences how many of these agencies would be hit by the economic downturn. The saying that it takes a village to handle some things is surely true. But how will we survive without a food bank or a homeless shelter or a free shot clinic for children? WIC has already announced that they will only provide for children under one year of age. What a tragedy that will be. That program got me through many a difficult time.
Well, my pay didn't go up, but I still have a job. So I will do the same as I did last year. I'd like to give more, but I don't see how. In a way it is giving more when everything goes up but my pay! It will be fine, I am sure, but we are going to have to work hard to protect these worthwhile charities. God help us.
As I perused the information pack, I was astounded at the vast number of non profit organizations in this area. Just the ones listed for our consideration through the United Way included about 650 names and covered a wide range of assistance and service, everything from foodbanks and child care agencies to hospice, cancer and other disease associations and everything inbetween.
I wondered as I filled in my preferences how many of these agencies would be hit by the economic downturn. The saying that it takes a village to handle some things is surely true. But how will we survive without a food bank or a homeless shelter or a free shot clinic for children? WIC has already announced that they will only provide for children under one year of age. What a tragedy that will be. That program got me through many a difficult time.
Well, my pay didn't go up, but I still have a job. So I will do the same as I did last year. I'd like to give more, but I don't see how. In a way it is giving more when everything goes up but my pay! It will be fine, I am sure, but we are going to have to work hard to protect these worthwhile charities. God help us.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Day of Rest
Sunday. A holy day. A time for ceasing your labor and honor God. When I was a child, the Blue Laws were in effect (yes, I am that old). Stores and other commercial enterprises could not be open on Sundays, so you stayed home. We were confined to our beds. Not just to our rooms, but we had to be in a horizontal position on our bed. We could read, but no talking or playing with toys.
At the time, while I didn't hate the rule, I did wish sometimes that we could be outside when the weather was pleasant. I learned to love reading and read my way steadily through the small local public library which owned all the best series books for children not to mention wonderful geography picture books and every imaginable biography.
Now I find myself reading all day once again, but not for pleasure in the strict sense. I am still catching up with assignments from being away at the conference. I am determined to be even steven by Tuesday, so I read most of Saturday when I wasn't actually working, and most of today when I wasn't working.
Its not exactly resting. Fortunately, I have been able to resist the temptation to close my eyes and snooze. I have to stop every few hours because reading these days causes double vision and after awhile, I just can't seem to squint hard enough to figure out what it is I am supposed to be reading. Which is OK. Sometimes, the brain can only process so much.
Especially when reading John Calvin. That man could say in a million words what the average person could manage in ten. He turns every topic every which way and a few directions you can't even imagine. As my professor says, you can't accuse him of not thinking!
And on that note, back to the books.
At the time, while I didn't hate the rule, I did wish sometimes that we could be outside when the weather was pleasant. I learned to love reading and read my way steadily through the small local public library which owned all the best series books for children not to mention wonderful geography picture books and every imaginable biography.
Now I find myself reading all day once again, but not for pleasure in the strict sense. I am still catching up with assignments from being away at the conference. I am determined to be even steven by Tuesday, so I read most of Saturday when I wasn't actually working, and most of today when I wasn't working.
Its not exactly resting. Fortunately, I have been able to resist the temptation to close my eyes and snooze. I have to stop every few hours because reading these days causes double vision and after awhile, I just can't seem to squint hard enough to figure out what it is I am supposed to be reading. Which is OK. Sometimes, the brain can only process so much.
Especially when reading John Calvin. That man could say in a million words what the average person could manage in ten. He turns every topic every which way and a few directions you can't even imagine. As my professor says, you can't accuse him of not thinking!
And on that note, back to the books.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Cancelled
I just couldn't seem to get everyone going in the right direction to put the Finney Library back together again. I had contacted the Facilities people about picking up the shelves, and hadn't heard back. I encountered a scheduling snafu at the Library and ended up not being able to resolve it which meant I had to work all day. Several people who were going to help found themselves unable to come, and I never did get a chance to find a carpet cleaning machine.
When nothing is working, I have found its best to fall back and wait. So I cancelled the "put the library back together" day. No one was the least bit concerned. In fact, several people said it would be better to find another time. So I am happy with that.
I'm not sure quite when that might be, but I am happy to wait until there is more energy happening. I thought perhaps I could orchestrate it for sometime during the week. But I am pretty sure it will happen when the good Lord decides it needs to be done. So I am not worried.
Besides, I have a lot of other stuff to focus on. We'll get there. Just not today.
When nothing is working, I have found its best to fall back and wait. So I cancelled the "put the library back together" day. No one was the least bit concerned. In fact, several people said it would be better to find another time. So I am happy with that.
I'm not sure quite when that might be, but I am happy to wait until there is more energy happening. I thought perhaps I could orchestrate it for sometime during the week. But I am pretty sure it will happen when the good Lord decides it needs to be done. So I am not worried.
Besides, I have a lot of other stuff to focus on. We'll get there. Just not today.
Friday, April 17, 2009
In a Better Place
First thing every morning, before I climb out from under the covers, I have a little conversational prayer with the good Lord. This morning, it was more of a whining session. "Why don't you heal this stupid cancer and make it go away? I don't want to have radiation again, even if its just a minor dose. I feel OK at the moment, and I know what that stuff can do to your body. Wouldn't it be much simpler if you just healed me?"
I had this image of being in one of those underwater corridors where you can see the ocean life, perhaps a coral reef or underwater playground for fish. I have never been in one, but I have seen them advertised on TV, and I usually shudder at the thought of being underwater even though encased in a carefully constructed glass protective area. Having cancer is like being in one of those places.
Only while I am in the middle of the corridor, suddenly and without warning, sharks begin attacking the glass, trying to get me. I can see their wild eyes, their sharp pointy teeth, hear the pounding of their jaws and fins against the glass. There are dozens of them and they come at me full force again and again, being held back only by the glass wall. I am frightened and I crouch down on the floor and cry and shake and am scared.
How silly. To get away, all I need to do is keep walking! Even if I am scared, I need to keep walking until I am far away from the threats of the sharks, out of sight, safely above water and back to my normal activities.
And that's when He gently reminded me that there is much I can do to prepare for what is to come. I can start walking on a more regular basis, the Y thing having fallen through. I can be more vigilant about reading Scripture and hanging on to it. And most of all, I can take His hand which He offers freely. He will walk with me out of the scary place, out of the valley of shadows, to safety.
So before rising this morning, I take His hand and find myself in a much better place. Now, where are my walking shoes?
I had this image of being in one of those underwater corridors where you can see the ocean life, perhaps a coral reef or underwater playground for fish. I have never been in one, but I have seen them advertised on TV, and I usually shudder at the thought of being underwater even though encased in a carefully constructed glass protective area. Having cancer is like being in one of those places.
Only while I am in the middle of the corridor, suddenly and without warning, sharks begin attacking the glass, trying to get me. I can see their wild eyes, their sharp pointy teeth, hear the pounding of their jaws and fins against the glass. There are dozens of them and they come at me full force again and again, being held back only by the glass wall. I am frightened and I crouch down on the floor and cry and shake and am scared.
How silly. To get away, all I need to do is keep walking! Even if I am scared, I need to keep walking until I am far away from the threats of the sharks, out of sight, safely above water and back to my normal activities.
And that's when He gently reminded me that there is much I can do to prepare for what is to come. I can start walking on a more regular basis, the Y thing having fallen through. I can be more vigilant about reading Scripture and hanging on to it. And most of all, I can take His hand which He offers freely. He will walk with me out of the scary place, out of the valley of shadows, to safety.
So before rising this morning, I take His hand and find myself in a much better place. Now, where are my walking shoes?
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Radiation Protocols
It's just a consult, a pleasant conversation about what we might think about, right? Nothing to worry about. Wait! I am not ready. I latched onto the doctor's statement about how we should have an action plan in a month or so. Not yet. Don't talk like this is happening, that its inevitable. I need more time.
I want to go see Katie and Kelly. I want to finish the semester of study and wrap up the school year with Drew. I have projects to plan and organizing to complete. I have people to see and places to photograph for my Jairus House patients. Please don't make me do this.
That's what I want to say. But of course, I bottle the shock inside and smile nicely while they enumerate the potential side effects of the radiation treatments. They act as if this is everyday stuff, and I know it is. But I had a bad time last round, and I am gun shy about having to do it again.
I say so. They listen with respect, and try to allay my fears. Really, it is totally different. The doses are not as heavy duty, the cancer is more responsive, the time frame is 3 weeks, not 12 weeks. You will breeze through it. Might get a sore throat, feel like you have a lump when you swallow, get a bit of a "sunburn" on your chest. Minor stuff.
They hand me a booklet titled "Radiation Therapy and You" with the appropriate pages circled. Inside is a bookmark with my nurse's name and contact information in case I have questions or encounter problems. The oncologist hands me his card. He is very pleasant and filled with fun. We have an interesting conversation about all sorts of topics - kids, my D. Min degree, choral music, life.
Inside I am running like mad in the opposite direction. You are not going to make me go through this again! Outside, I know that what he is saying is true. The location is driving the need to address this sooner rather than later. If the vertebrae goes south, the spinal cord is at risk. One good dose now could save me weeks and months of trouble ahead.
OK. Deep breath. Pray. God, please let me escape without any side effects. Give me grace to prepare for this, gratefulness for the chance to have this, and courage to face life head on knowing that you will be with me, that you are preparing me for whatever may come.
And please let my legs stop shaking. Amen.
I want to go see Katie and Kelly. I want to finish the semester of study and wrap up the school year with Drew. I have projects to plan and organizing to complete. I have people to see and places to photograph for my Jairus House patients. Please don't make me do this.
That's what I want to say. But of course, I bottle the shock inside and smile nicely while they enumerate the potential side effects of the radiation treatments. They act as if this is everyday stuff, and I know it is. But I had a bad time last round, and I am gun shy about having to do it again.
I say so. They listen with respect, and try to allay my fears. Really, it is totally different. The doses are not as heavy duty, the cancer is more responsive, the time frame is 3 weeks, not 12 weeks. You will breeze through it. Might get a sore throat, feel like you have a lump when you swallow, get a bit of a "sunburn" on your chest. Minor stuff.
They hand me a booklet titled "Radiation Therapy and You" with the appropriate pages circled. Inside is a bookmark with my nurse's name and contact information in case I have questions or encounter problems. The oncologist hands me his card. He is very pleasant and filled with fun. We have an interesting conversation about all sorts of topics - kids, my D. Min degree, choral music, life.
Inside I am running like mad in the opposite direction. You are not going to make me go through this again! Outside, I know that what he is saying is true. The location is driving the need to address this sooner rather than later. If the vertebrae goes south, the spinal cord is at risk. One good dose now could save me weeks and months of trouble ahead.
OK. Deep breath. Pray. God, please let me escape without any side effects. Give me grace to prepare for this, gratefulness for the chance to have this, and courage to face life head on knowing that you will be with me, that you are preparing me for whatever may come.
And please let my legs stop shaking. Amen.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Next Steps
I have this drill down pretty good these days. Drive up 5 levels in the parking garage by Strong Hospital, take the stairs to level 1 because I can, check in with the receptionist, verify my meds list, pay the copay, get weighed and check blood pressure (always high), then wait for the doctor in an exam room.
She knocks politely on the door and enters, her sunny disposition a welcome and refreshing delight. She looks me in the eyes and talks to me as if I am an intelligent person with concerns and feelings - and I am! She tells me she has seen the results of my bone biopsy and when she looked at the paperwork, not expecting it to show anything about lymphoma since that cancer doesn't go to the bones, she blinked and said, "What the hell!"
Yes. Lymphoma in the bone. And not even in a bone where cancer usually is found. The T1 vertebrae? Who would have thought! I am going to be famous. Ground breaking stuff, my case. Well. What to do? Its a quandary since there is no path to follow.
She suspects there is more to the picture than what we are seeing. A full body PET scan is in order to see if there is involvement in any other bone. And a bone marrow biopsy. More usual to see marrow cancer than the bone cancer, and this lymphoma stuff is sneaky, tends to hide and mask its presence. Those are no more painful that the other biopsies you have had. We do them right here. Let's get a better picture.
Once the tests are run, she will take my case to her monthly group of oncologists for consideration, get some second opinions. Better to have more ideas when you are dealing with new wrinkles. Yes. Meanwhile, we are definitely looking at a round of radiation. Nothing to worry about, not the massive stuff I had before.
Depending on what the tests show, we may add in Rituxan, not as bad as chemo, but effective for this kind of low grade cancer. We would rather not use a therapy if unnecessary, since this sort of lymphoma recurs and each time you have to up the stuff you fight it with. But we will see.
My appointment with the radiologist oncologist is tomorrow - yikes - not that we are in a hurry, but come back sooner rather than later. The other appointments will be scheduled as soon as the insurance stamp is given. Come back in three weeks, and we'll get this show on the road.
I shiver as I head for the car and drive back to my other world, the one without white coats, stethescopes, long hallways of examining rooms, elevators that take you to all those tests and treatments. It is beginning. Maybe it won't be so bad this time around. Maybe I better go visit the grandkids before I hit any bumps.
She knocks politely on the door and enters, her sunny disposition a welcome and refreshing delight. She looks me in the eyes and talks to me as if I am an intelligent person with concerns and feelings - and I am! She tells me she has seen the results of my bone biopsy and when she looked at the paperwork, not expecting it to show anything about lymphoma since that cancer doesn't go to the bones, she blinked and said, "What the hell!"
Yes. Lymphoma in the bone. And not even in a bone where cancer usually is found. The T1 vertebrae? Who would have thought! I am going to be famous. Ground breaking stuff, my case. Well. What to do? Its a quandary since there is no path to follow.
She suspects there is more to the picture than what we are seeing. A full body PET scan is in order to see if there is involvement in any other bone. And a bone marrow biopsy. More usual to see marrow cancer than the bone cancer, and this lymphoma stuff is sneaky, tends to hide and mask its presence. Those are no more painful that the other biopsies you have had. We do them right here. Let's get a better picture.
Once the tests are run, she will take my case to her monthly group of oncologists for consideration, get some second opinions. Better to have more ideas when you are dealing with new wrinkles. Yes. Meanwhile, we are definitely looking at a round of radiation. Nothing to worry about, not the massive stuff I had before.
Depending on what the tests show, we may add in Rituxan, not as bad as chemo, but effective for this kind of low grade cancer. We would rather not use a therapy if unnecessary, since this sort of lymphoma recurs and each time you have to up the stuff you fight it with. But we will see.
My appointment with the radiologist oncologist is tomorrow - yikes - not that we are in a hurry, but come back sooner rather than later. The other appointments will be scheduled as soon as the insurance stamp is given. Come back in three weeks, and we'll get this show on the road.
I shiver as I head for the car and drive back to my other world, the one without white coats, stethescopes, long hallways of examining rooms, elevators that take you to all those tests and treatments. It is beginning. Maybe it won't be so bad this time around. Maybe I better go visit the grandkids before I hit any bumps.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Heading Home
Its hard to say exactly whether the mountains in New Hampshire and Vermont are part of the Adirondacks or the Appalachian Mountains. Either way, they are beautiful, gentle, blue, green and violet even in the early spring. The road from Dartmouth leads you from dizzying heights down to the depths of valleys and everywhere inbetween.
Though I enjoy the mountains, I like some space between peaks. The mountains I was driving through to get home felt tight and enclosing. I left the conference a bit early just to make sure I was out of them before dark. My rental car seemed to slide with ease down the mountainsides, slithering around hairpin turns, racing along river edges, as eager as I to escape before dark set in.
I thought of the people who live in the tiny towns and villages all along the route I was traveling. Interstate highway has a whole new meaning here. Some places catered to tourist trade, offer quaint inns, b&b's, antique shops, craft stores. Some were just sleepy little villages with tired post offices and leftovers of old grocery store chains next to one story schools and the inevitable church with towering steeple pointing the way to God and out of the mountains.
As I traveled along, I alternately listened to a book on CD, and drank in the purr of the car as I silently reflected on what it would be like to live in such places. I am happy where I am though my lifestyle is not particularly quiet or slow paced. I like access to stores and concerts, parks and lakes, friends and family. Yes, I can appreciate what New England has to offer in so many others ways and places, but I am happy where I am. Which is good since that is where I am!
Though I am tired, though my poor body seems to tire so easily and want to call it a day earlier than ever, I draw on the strength of the good Lord and head my weary soul for home. I know I will soon lay my head on my own pillow and rest.
Though I enjoy the mountains, I like some space between peaks. The mountains I was driving through to get home felt tight and enclosing. I left the conference a bit early just to make sure I was out of them before dark. My rental car seemed to slide with ease down the mountainsides, slithering around hairpin turns, racing along river edges, as eager as I to escape before dark set in.
I thought of the people who live in the tiny towns and villages all along the route I was traveling. Interstate highway has a whole new meaning here. Some places catered to tourist trade, offer quaint inns, b&b's, antique shops, craft stores. Some were just sleepy little villages with tired post offices and leftovers of old grocery store chains next to one story schools and the inevitable church with towering steeple pointing the way to God and out of the mountains.
As I traveled along, I alternately listened to a book on CD, and drank in the purr of the car as I silently reflected on what it would be like to live in such places. I am happy where I am though my lifestyle is not particularly quiet or slow paced. I like access to stores and concerts, parks and lakes, friends and family. Yes, I can appreciate what New England has to offer in so many others ways and places, but I am happy where I am. Which is good since that is where I am!
Though I am tired, though my poor body seems to tire so easily and want to call it a day earlier than ever, I draw on the strength of the good Lord and head my weary soul for home. I know I will soon lay my head on my own pillow and rest.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Ivies Plus Conference
Who in their right mind would schedule a conference right after Easter! Well, never mind. I am happy to reconnect with people I haven't seen in awhile, even though it means driving to New Hampshire. This conference is small - around 40 people - and you get to know people better.
The helpful part is that they are all dealing with the same issues - tight budgets, repurposing staff, downsizing, balancing print with digital resources, managing unexpected demands. Its good to put our heads together and see how others are coping, learn some new strategies, see what is coming down the pike.
I was nearly to Vermont when it occurred to me that when my brother got married a bit ago, he moved in with his new wife somewhere in New Hampshire. Maybe he would be close enough that I could squeeze in a visit after the opening reception. I called him. Imagine my surprise (and his) when I discovered he lived only a mile or so from the hotel where I was staying!
We arranged for me to swing by after the reception. It was so good to see him again. My older brother, and only older sibling, and I got off to a bumpy start. He took a dim view of my arrival and managed to bop me on the head with a can of spinach and push me off the porch in my carriage before I got old enough to protest. Ah, well, I survived despite his best efforts, and we have a unique and precious connection that I do not share with my other siblings.
Pete and I can go for months without seeing each other, but when we get together, it is as if our conspiracy picks up right where it should. Though his true twin died at birth, I often feel as if we think very much alike. Pete is a wonderfully gifted and creative and thoughtful individual whom I have always respected and admired.
We chatted well after his wife retired. It was good to reconnect. The conference was excellent, helpful and brought me lots of ideas. But the best part of it was the unexpected blessing of getting to spend time with my brother! Its that just like the good Lord to arrange all that for my benefit! I am blessed indeed.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter!
My most vivid memory of Easter was when we lived in Johnstown and I was in middle school. Easter in those days meant a new spring outfit from Gram and a basket of chocolate goodies, and those years Gram and Mom outdid themselves. I couldn't wait for Easter morning to dawn.
I jumped out of bed in the darkness and slid into my new lilac colored outfit, complete with dress, coat, frilly ankle socks, straw hat, white gloves, purse and patent leather shoes! I felt like a queen. Never one to fuss with my hair much, I had spent the night sleeping on those foam clip rollers - the pink ones with the spongy centers. You had to find just the right angle so the clips didn't dig into your scalp.
I tiptoed downstairs to wait for the rest of the house to wake up. "It's Easter!" I wanted to shout. "Get up!" I was too excited to sneak much from the basket on the dining room table with my name on it. Besides, we had to be down to the cemetery across from the church by 6am for the sunrise service. Dad had gotten one of those new fangled cassette recorders and taped me playing Easter hymns on the piano so we could sing at the sunrise service.
Only Dad, my brother and I went. Mom stayed home to get the "little ones" ready. I danced all the way there, I was so happy. We gathered, a small group of stalwart faithfuls, in a barren spot near ancient crazily tilted headstones worn smooth by a hundred icy winters. Dad walked us through the events of that first Easter morning and read Scripture - one couldn't help but be reverent in the presence of so many dead people.
It was cold, even after the sun poked its shining face through the darkness. I shivered and my teeth chattered while Dad called to memory that first Easter morning. I was pretty sure Mary and the other women who went to the tomb that morning weren't contending with 20 degree temperatures or pinching new shoes or a straw hat strap that choked you just a little. But it was alright. I hugged myself for warmth. I didn't mind these small inconveniences. After all, it was Easter!
Dad punched the button on the little black recorder. At first nothing happened. I think the darn thing was frozen. But it finally kicked in. The music warbled and wavered and barely managed to provide a singable tune. Everyone tried their best to sing along. After all, in such a small crowd, you could tell if someone wasn't singing.
At last, after my shivering had completely consumed me, after the last verse had been sung, after the small crowd dispersed, we made a beeline for the church fellowship hall. The warmth of the room enveloped me as we stepped through the pointed wooden doors. The pancake breakfast was nearly ready. The wonderful aroma of sausage, bacon, syrup and coffee nearly made me faint. It was such a welcome relief from the cold of the cemetery.
The next delight greeted me when I entered the sanctuary with my too full little tummy, my straw hat and gloves retrieved from the corner of the kitchen where I had abandoned them in favor of a plate brimming with rich brown pancakes smothered in fruit preserves and melted butter.
I entered quietly, before most of the congregation came in. I wanted to savor the fragrance of the lilies that stretched from one side of the thickly carpeted platform to the other, to just stand mid-aisle and take in the pure whiteness muffled in the purple tinfoil papers that wrapped each container. It was as quiet as the empty tomb and I just sat and thought about Easter. You could hear people chatting in the foyer, but they hushed their voices as soon as they entered the sanctuary.
The music for the Easter services always seemed so grand to me. I remember the deep bass of the older men and the mellow altos of their wives and the warbly soprano of the spinsters as they whole heartedly sang "Up from the grave He arose!" It was glorious. The organ let loose a bit and the majestic swells of sound encouraged us all to sing out.
After service was the whole Easter dinner awaiting us at home - ham and sweet potatoes and those soft fresh rolls and pickles (Seven Day Baptist homemade by Gram) and all the trimmings. More stuffed tummy. So much food was a treat for our table, and we took full advantage. Finally, after the angel food cake and whipped cream, we got to "open" our Easter baskets - as if we hadn't already been picking at the jelly beans and speckled eggs. I always saved the big chocolate rabbit for last. It was great.
Easter hasn't been much of a celebration at my house since the boys grew up. This year for the first time since I was born, I did not color Easter eggs or buy chocolate for baskets. I did succumb to a bag of licorice jelly beans and a few flavors of jelly bellies, but its a bit of a let down.
Perhaps it's for the best. Now that the clutter of celebration is out of the way, I have time to think about the truth of Easter, what God did for me, how much he cares about me. Somewhere deep inside, I am still that young girl arrayed in Easter finery, carried away by the sights, sounds, smells, and flavor of Easter, still so happy to know God arose and conquered death. And in many ways, that event is more significant for me than ever, especially from my current view.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Touching Base
I had purposely carved out some time around Easter to visit my number three son, his wife, and baby. I had seen them in the fall and at Christmas, but new babies grow so fast. While I didn't want to stray too far from my responsibilities at this crucial juncture in the church year, I felt compelled to have a bit of face to face time.
Friday I had a commitment to paint the school and attend an Easter production. Sunday I had choir and the ultimate service of the year in the morning and a quiet community celebration in the evening. But I saved Saturday from intrusion even though several times opportunity knock for that day.
Other years it has seemed less important to see family, but this year, given what may lie ahead, it was at the top of my priority list. We left Rochester early in the morning and arrived before noon. We pulled into the street by their trailer just as another grandparent was leaving. I was excited as we parked to see my little munchkin.
I remember so well when my own Grandmother came to visit us when I was a kid - I would sit for hours with my nose pressed against the windows in the parlor, my breath fogging the glass, straining for a glimpse of Gramp's red pickup truck which I knew would be laden with all sorts of goodies, food and otherwise.
Of course, 8 months old is too young for that sort of thing, but I wanted to shower them with blessings as my Gram did to me. I had brought a few little things in hand. My daughter-in-law had recently redecorated, and the place looked wonderful - fresh and bright and cozy. We hugged and chatted and ooo'ed over the new kittens for a bit.
Then we did what all generations of family have done for years - we went shopping. What fun it is to explore all the new merchandise and see things through the eyes of someone you love! You get to know their preferences for colors and styles a bit, what captures their interest, what they pass by quickly.
It was a whirlwind trip, and soon we settled down to have a late lunch. The baby gobbled his little jar of mush and zonked out in Kiel's arms as the rest of us chattered and laughed and told stories. Too soon it was time to say good-bye. Too soon I hugged my sweeties and climbed back in the car for the long ride back to Rochester.
My body these days can't tolerate as much as I would like it to. My feet were swollen and painful, my side hurt, and the lymph glands in my lower abdomen were definitely not happy with me. I was grateful that Kiel drove. I climbed into the back seat, curled up in a ball, and tried to rest. Just being in a prone position helped. Sure hope they can fix this stuff soon. It was worth it though. There's nothing quite like hugging a baby!
Friday I had a commitment to paint the school and attend an Easter production. Sunday I had choir and the ultimate service of the year in the morning and a quiet community celebration in the evening. But I saved Saturday from intrusion even though several times opportunity knock for that day.
Other years it has seemed less important to see family, but this year, given what may lie ahead, it was at the top of my priority list. We left Rochester early in the morning and arrived before noon. We pulled into the street by their trailer just as another grandparent was leaving. I was excited as we parked to see my little munchkin.
I remember so well when my own Grandmother came to visit us when I was a kid - I would sit for hours with my nose pressed against the windows in the parlor, my breath fogging the glass, straining for a glimpse of Gramp's red pickup truck which I knew would be laden with all sorts of goodies, food and otherwise.
Of course, 8 months old is too young for that sort of thing, but I wanted to shower them with blessings as my Gram did to me. I had brought a few little things in hand. My daughter-in-law had recently redecorated, and the place looked wonderful - fresh and bright and cozy. We hugged and chatted and ooo'ed over the new kittens for a bit.
Then we did what all generations of family have done for years - we went shopping. What fun it is to explore all the new merchandise and see things through the eyes of someone you love! You get to know their preferences for colors and styles a bit, what captures their interest, what they pass by quickly.
It was a whirlwind trip, and soon we settled down to have a late lunch. The baby gobbled his little jar of mush and zonked out in Kiel's arms as the rest of us chattered and laughed and told stories. Too soon it was time to say good-bye. Too soon I hugged my sweeties and climbed back in the car for the long ride back to Rochester.
My body these days can't tolerate as much as I would like it to. My feet were swollen and painful, my side hurt, and the lymph glands in my lower abdomen were definitely not happy with me. I was grateful that Kiel drove. I climbed into the back seat, curled up in a ball, and tried to rest. Just being in a prone position helped. Sure hope they can fix this stuff soon. It was worth it though. There's nothing quite like hugging a baby!
Friday, April 10, 2009
Painting Finney
Painting the walls of the Library at Finney School was not at the top of my priority list. Cleaning the cobwebs from the shelves, putting the books in order, getting the online system back up and running - those are Library activities. But painting was almost the first thing the Library committee concerned themselves with.
I made them wade through the first two steps of my list before I entertained theirs, but if that's what it takes to engender enthusiasm and encourage the kids to come and read, then by all means, let's paint the room.
They told me someone had done research about the colors and I hoped we could reconnect with that selection process. Alas, we could not find out where the list was. So we experimented with warm inviting colors, coffee tones and rosy beiges that matched some of the carpeting.
After a bit of song and dance, we settled on pebble courtyard as our preferred hue, and set aside three weekends to get the work done. One to prep the room, one to paint, and one to put things back. The prep had gone well, and now we were ready to paint.
I thought we would need the whole day to apply the color, but with almost ten volunteers, it went fast. We rolled the new paint across the washed but dull and dingy walls, listening to music as we worked. Some preferred to do the more precise edging out around doorsills and window ledges. Some were taller and did the high areas, or bolder and willing to stand on the ladders to paint.
A few areas needed a second coat, and the trickiest part was a recessed ceiling area on the outside wall that was hard to get at. Well before noon we stood back and admired our work. The room did indeed look much better, much more inviting. We had even washed the grimy windows and removed the filthy shades to let in the light.
Yes, they were right. A fresh coat of paint was just the ticket. We pulled the doors shut to let the drying take place and went on to other Good Friday activities. Sometimes its good to experience a holy Friday that is not consumed with darkness and mourning. Sometimes it does your soul good to be immersed in warm color and a sense of a job well done.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Moon Halo
Kiel, Drew and I were driving home (me from choir rehearsal, Drew from Robotics - yes, still going - and Kiel from playing the role of chauffeur) when Kiel remarked about the haze around the near full moon.
I glanced at the sky, and sure enough, there was a low hanging ochra moon dancing just above the tree line, surrounded by a brilliant circlet of glowing light. I suppose it was due to the icy chill of the night air, but whatever the cause, we were delighted by its magical shimmer.
There we were, the three of us, a mere speck on the earth, gazing at the huge moon above, awe struck at its beauty and caught up in its gentle light. It reminded me of the light from my flashlight when I shined it on the dirt road leading from summer camp's evening bonfire back to my cabin. The focused center circle of light would be surrounded by a skinny outer circle of light cast by a reflection from the metal rim of the lens that scattered the bulbs light in every direction.
It was never enough light to really see everything around you - not at all like sunlight illuminating the sky, trees, mountains and vistas for miles around. Just enough to see the path in front of your feet and avoid falling into a ditch. That's what it feels like when you are walking through some of those "valleys of the shadow of death" - you can see shadowy shapes around you, but nothing is clear or makes sense. Its hard to get your bearings or know if you are headed in the right direction. But it is enough to keep you from falling unnecessarily into some ditch or pit.
Well, we shall see how the upcoming valley shapes up. Maybe, like tonight, there will be an almost full moon giving out enough light to make you feel safe and recognize where you are, and a bit of a halo for good measure. I am holding out for that.
I glanced at the sky, and sure enough, there was a low hanging ochra moon dancing just above the tree line, surrounded by a brilliant circlet of glowing light. I suppose it was due to the icy chill of the night air, but whatever the cause, we were delighted by its magical shimmer.
There we were, the three of us, a mere speck on the earth, gazing at the huge moon above, awe struck at its beauty and caught up in its gentle light. It reminded me of the light from my flashlight when I shined it on the dirt road leading from summer camp's evening bonfire back to my cabin. The focused center circle of light would be surrounded by a skinny outer circle of light cast by a reflection from the metal rim of the lens that scattered the bulbs light in every direction.
It was never enough light to really see everything around you - not at all like sunlight illuminating the sky, trees, mountains and vistas for miles around. Just enough to see the path in front of your feet and avoid falling into a ditch. That's what it feels like when you are walking through some of those "valleys of the shadow of death" - you can see shadowy shapes around you, but nothing is clear or makes sense. Its hard to get your bearings or know if you are headed in the right direction. But it is enough to keep you from falling unnecessarily into some ditch or pit.
Well, we shall see how the upcoming valley shapes up. Maybe, like tonight, there will be an almost full moon giving out enough light to make you feel safe and recognize where you are, and a bit of a halo for good measure. I am holding out for that.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Palm Origami
After Palm Sunday service, after Chime Choir rehearsal, after most people had drained their coffee mugs and exited the fellowship hall, after the office staff were well into their tasks, a small group of women gathered in the Church foyer around the vase of extra palm branches left from the children's Palm Parade in the morning service.
Pastor was there, bending and twisting an ornery palm into the shape of a cross - something she had learned long ago and was trying to recall. Two or three others were following her lead, trying to figure out the pattern for folding the thick green brown fronds. It is an age old tradition, worked into a complex art form in some places.
I remember my good Catholic friends when I was in elementary school, bringing in their palm crosses to class with pride. Mothers taught daughters, Grandmothers taught grand daughters. Every family had its own particular twist on just how to create a decorative cross to carry throughout Passion Week.
First, you fold it at a ninety degree angle downward, then twist it back. Make a box in the center - bring it towards you, up, over and down through the center. Faces were focused studiously on the task at hand, punctuated with cries of frustration. "No, wait. Which way did you go next? I didn't see." Sometimes the pupil had to turn around and stand in the same position as the teacher in order to understand how to proceed.
It was bonding at it's best. No one was in a hurry to leave. Everyone tried their hand at palm folding. Some crosses came out a bit lopsided - not bad for a beginner. Some had extra folds and decoration - a left over from childhood days. All of the little crosses carried heart and passion and care. We chatted and laughed as we worked at it, sometimes discarding a failed attempt, or unfolding to start over.
The appeal was cross platform. We were young girls, older women, middle aged - a nice intergenerational mix. Like a town gathering at the local waterhole, we took solace in the company of others seeking something special to mark our journey this year, some memorable event to tie us with Christ and the time of his life and death, and to root us in the traditions of the Church of past generations as well as future.
It was wonderfully liberating. I heard my phone buzz that the boys were here to pick me up. It was hard to tear myself away, yet I knew I had a full day ahead. I took seven fronds with me. Could I weave the magic on my own in the quiet of the days ahead? My tradition has always been to nail the fronds over the door posts of my home, a reminder and connection with passover's fulfillment.
Somehow it almost hurts me to inflict pain on the poor palm by twisting it into a cross. Christ's pain is already unbearable to think about. I thought about it all afternoon. I couldn't do it. At last I asked Kiel to nail the fronds over the door and went to evening service.
One last chance. I was handed one more palm frond. Could I make the cross? I lay it gently on the coffee table and retired. In the morning, I folded it without actually creasing any of the bends and carried it to my office where I draped it around my monitor. The folds remained and the frond hugs my screen, brown and dying and twisted. It is all I can handle.
The next time I entered the Church building, there on a table in the hall lay a handful of carefully twisted palm crosses, inviting the world to participate in our ritual observation of Easter to come.
Later in the week, a dear friend pulled from her purse a small palm cross she had made, beautifully crafted and slender. I received it with joy and tucked it into my own purse where it has lifted me up with encouragement everytime I open my purse to retrieve something. I love to trace the lines with my fingers, moved by the firm coarseness, the smooth fibers, the rough edges.
It is a year for crosses. I hold on to mine and cherish them. And I remember. I am not alone.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Winter Wonder?
The forecast was predicting snow, but when I retired, it was pouring down a cold relentless pummel of water. The sound of pattering against the window glass lulled me to sleep. I was hardly prepared for the glare of white when I awoke - every tree was coated in puffy whiteness frozen in place by the icy rain.
Every little twig and branch was outlined as if some artist had purposely outlined them to emphasize their shapes. Forecasts were rife with stories of cars spun out and off the road, fender benders galore. We are expecting 1 to 3 inches today. Where on earth did spring go?
Sometimes the weather reflects my mood. I remember a freezing ice storm the night my son died. The skies were as leaden as my heart, the cold an accurate reflection of my emotional numbness. But I am not in the mood for winter at the moment. I long for sunshine and blue skies and an end of the relentless cold.
Once again I dragged my winter coat from the closet and thought briefly about scarves and mittens. I resist the impulse. I do not want to encourage winter to come back. Drew insisted on wearing shorts to school, despite my repeated demands to wear jeans. Maybe he is not so silly. If you act like its summer, perhaps summer will come.
Or not. Let us see what tomorrow brings. I just hope the tulips that are almost ready to bud don't die. I could use a few colorful blooms right now!
Every little twig and branch was outlined as if some artist had purposely outlined them to emphasize their shapes. Forecasts were rife with stories of cars spun out and off the road, fender benders galore. We are expecting 1 to 3 inches today. Where on earth did spring go?
Sometimes the weather reflects my mood. I remember a freezing ice storm the night my son died. The skies were as leaden as my heart, the cold an accurate reflection of my emotional numbness. But I am not in the mood for winter at the moment. I long for sunshine and blue skies and an end of the relentless cold.
Once again I dragged my winter coat from the closet and thought briefly about scarves and mittens. I resist the impulse. I do not want to encourage winter to come back. Drew insisted on wearing shorts to school, despite my repeated demands to wear jeans. Maybe he is not so silly. If you act like its summer, perhaps summer will come.
Or not. Let us see what tomorrow brings. I just hope the tulips that are almost ready to bud don't die. I could use a few colorful blooms right now!
Monday, April 6, 2009
Why Don't You Call???
OK, I know everyone gets busy, and things get dropped through the cracks. But I have waited all weekend to find out what the results of my bone biopsy were. By the time our afternoon staff meeting ended, I decided to call the cancer clinic and remind them of their promise, jiggle their memory.
Once again, the receptionist deflected me to the nurse. When she called me, she could find no record of my Friday conversation and I was definitely not on anyone's radar screen. I was pleased that I did not hear any stress or anger or blowing up in my voice as we calmly reviewed the facts. She said she would talk with the doctor and call me back. I believed her.
It took an hour, but she did in fact call. My doctor is a very considerate person, and had told the nurse to give me a straightforward answer even though she wanted me to come in for an appointment to get the results. So here's the good news: it's not rectal cancer metastasized to the bone. It's not a new bone cancer. It is, however, the follicular lymphoma metastasized to the bone (not the marrow, the bone).
What are the ramifications of that? I won't know until I get an appointment and talk with my oncologist. Unfortunately, by the time I got that far, they had gone home for the day, so hopefully, I will hear from Lisa tomorrow with a time and date. Sigh. Good thing this is not an aggressive cancer. But I understand. There are a lot of people way sicker than I am, and I am happy not to be deathly ill like I was before.
Meanwhile, can you believe it's supposed to snow tonight!
Once again, the receptionist deflected me to the nurse. When she called me, she could find no record of my Friday conversation and I was definitely not on anyone's radar screen. I was pleased that I did not hear any stress or anger or blowing up in my voice as we calmly reviewed the facts. She said she would talk with the doctor and call me back. I believed her.
It took an hour, but she did in fact call. My doctor is a very considerate person, and had told the nurse to give me a straightforward answer even though she wanted me to come in for an appointment to get the results. So here's the good news: it's not rectal cancer metastasized to the bone. It's not a new bone cancer. It is, however, the follicular lymphoma metastasized to the bone (not the marrow, the bone).
What are the ramifications of that? I won't know until I get an appointment and talk with my oncologist. Unfortunately, by the time I got that far, they had gone home for the day, so hopefully, I will hear from Lisa tomorrow with a time and date. Sigh. Good thing this is not an aggressive cancer. But I understand. There are a lot of people way sicker than I am, and I am happy not to be deathly ill like I was before.
Meanwhile, can you believe it's supposed to snow tonight!
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Communion
Our church does a cantata on Palm Sunday, and this year we worked under a bit of a handicap since we still had not hired a permanent musician to accompany services when we needed to start thinking about what music we would do. At first, I had thought perhaps we should cancel the cantata, but on second thought with a bit of encouragement from the choir, I selected music.
Thank God, we hired a marvelous pianist in time for rehearsals. She most definitely helped us work towards presenting the Easter story in song with excellence. We rehearsed heavily the two weeks beforehand, and scheduled our usual dress rehearsal on the Saturday beforehand.
Saturday was the first time we heard the narrator read the segues from song to song, heard the story connecting the musical dots. It was the first time we saw the powerpoint pictures that two members of our choir selected to match the texts and the songs. I could tell it was going to be powerful even then, but I didn't realize how much it would touch people.
As the service unfolded, there was a palpable anointing, a sense that hearts were connecting with the truth of God's sacrifice, the extent of His love and His gift to us. When we reached the part of the story about the Last Supper, we invited the congregation to participate in communion. There was a picture of the Last Supper scene on the screen as people came forward. One of the college students sang two moving solo pieces as people came to receive the bread and the wine.
There was a certain quiet seriousness as familiar faces made their way forward, a tenderness in the ministry of the elements. It is rare that we are all drawn into the presence in such a gentle way. As the story continued, the truth of the words and the pictures melded into a manageable reality.
We ended with "O Sacred Head Now Wounded." Our picture was of Christ's head with the crown of thorns, gazing upwards to God. We filed silently out of the sanctuary, carrying with us all the paraments - the Bibles, the basin, the candles, the Cross, the hanging - everything, leaving the altar stripped bare.
People sat for a bit, reflecting, taking it all in. Everyone commented on how special the service was for them. In this time of uncertainty, you hang on to what is solid and unchanging. This service was a fixed point of comfort and grace. It was real. I know I will hold onto the memory of it for a long time.
Thank God, we hired a marvelous pianist in time for rehearsals. She most definitely helped us work towards presenting the Easter story in song with excellence. We rehearsed heavily the two weeks beforehand, and scheduled our usual dress rehearsal on the Saturday beforehand.
Saturday was the first time we heard the narrator read the segues from song to song, heard the story connecting the musical dots. It was the first time we saw the powerpoint pictures that two members of our choir selected to match the texts and the songs. I could tell it was going to be powerful even then, but I didn't realize how much it would touch people.
As the service unfolded, there was a palpable anointing, a sense that hearts were connecting with the truth of God's sacrifice, the extent of His love and His gift to us. When we reached the part of the story about the Last Supper, we invited the congregation to participate in communion. There was a picture of the Last Supper scene on the screen as people came forward. One of the college students sang two moving solo pieces as people came to receive the bread and the wine.
There was a certain quiet seriousness as familiar faces made their way forward, a tenderness in the ministry of the elements. It is rare that we are all drawn into the presence in such a gentle way. As the story continued, the truth of the words and the pictures melded into a manageable reality.
We ended with "O Sacred Head Now Wounded." Our picture was of Christ's head with the crown of thorns, gazing upwards to God. We filed silently out of the sanctuary, carrying with us all the paraments - the Bibles, the basin, the candles, the Cross, the hanging - everything, leaving the altar stripped bare.
People sat for a bit, reflecting, taking it all in. Everyone commented on how special the service was for them. In this time of uncertainty, you hang on to what is solid and unchanging. This service was a fixed point of comfort and grace. It was real. I know I will hold onto the memory of it for a long time.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Prep and Pack
Golisano Library has adopted the Charles Finney School Library as a sister institution. We intend to come alongside the struggling resource center and assist in whatever ways we can.
So far we have put the books in order and cleaned and straightened, reinstituted their online catalog, gotten new books barcoded and stirred up interest. Our bookfair will provide them with some additional books. But right now the room needs a thorough scrubbing and cleaning.
I put out a call, and some volunteers stepped up. We spent the morning covering bookshelves that are bolted to the wall and unloading the movable shelves, packing the books. It was all I had time to do before I needed to be at a cantata rehearsal followed by an afternoon at the Reference Desk.
Fortunately, more volunteers came in the afternoon and washed the walls (they were grimy), removed hardware from the walls, and taped edges, removed wall outlet plates, etc. We are in good shape.
Next Friday (yes, on Good Friday) we will prime and paint the walls which have not been done in a good long while. We are trying to match the brown in the carpet and hope to have the proper shade before the actual day of painting.
Then the following weekend we will put it all back together. An ambitious project, but with enough hands, we can make it work just fine. The boys are helping (despite their druthers), and after we finish painting, we plan to go to an Easter production in the evening.
I debated about doing such a thing on Holy Friday, but I figure if ever there is an appropriate time to do something good, this would probably be it. So we do it unto the Lord with joy. I know the people at the school will be happy to have a clean room and perhaps the sprucing up will lift their spirits straight into spring.
So far we have put the books in order and cleaned and straightened, reinstituted their online catalog, gotten new books barcoded and stirred up interest. Our bookfair will provide them with some additional books. But right now the room needs a thorough scrubbing and cleaning.
I put out a call, and some volunteers stepped up. We spent the morning covering bookshelves that are bolted to the wall and unloading the movable shelves, packing the books. It was all I had time to do before I needed to be at a cantata rehearsal followed by an afternoon at the Reference Desk.
Fortunately, more volunteers came in the afternoon and washed the walls (they were grimy), removed hardware from the walls, and taped edges, removed wall outlet plates, etc. We are in good shape.
Next Friday (yes, on Good Friday) we will prime and paint the walls which have not been done in a good long while. We are trying to match the brown in the carpet and hope to have the proper shade before the actual day of painting.
Then the following weekend we will put it all back together. An ambitious project, but with enough hands, we can make it work just fine. The boys are helping (despite their druthers), and after we finish painting, we plan to go to an Easter production in the evening.
I debated about doing such a thing on Holy Friday, but I figure if ever there is an appropriate time to do something good, this would probably be it. So we do it unto the Lord with joy. I know the people at the school will be happy to have a clean room and perhaps the sprucing up will lift their spirits straight into spring.
Friday, April 3, 2009
That Can't Be Good
Call next Friday they told me after the bone biopsy. Hopefully the results of your bone biopsy will be back after a week. Today is Friday. Doesn't seem as if it has been a whole week. I am still struggling to feel well. Combination of the toothache, biopsy, antibiotics and pain meds. And maybe the gloomy skies and steady rain all day.
Well, I put it off as long as I could. Voice lessons and Reference Desk hours in the morning, lunch with Kiel, statistics to finish before Monday's staff meeting - I could dream up a thousand excuses. But my curiosity finally got the better of me. Even though I don't want to know, I need to know.
I call the number for lab and test results (the system at Wilmot is sometimes hard to figure out). "Wilmot Cancer Center. This is Cheryl." I explain my situation. She takes my information and looks me up. "Phone number?" I give her my cell, quickly changing it from vibrate to LOUD so I don't miss their call. I have already missed one call from them yesterday because I didn't hear the phone go off.
"I'll give your number to the nurses." Hum. Seems like if it had been good - clean - nothing to worry about, she would have told me on the spot. "DON'T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS!" I tell myself sternly. It's probably just protocol. Receptionists don't have the authority. . .
I try to finish statistics. I am just getting into it when my cell rings. It's the clinic. I wait for the second ring before answering. Goodness, I am being silly. I am sure whatever it is, God will be with me. "Hi, Esther. This is JoAnn, one of Dr. Young's nurses. Dr. Young is not in today, and I am not clear whether she will call you with the results or if you need to come in and speak with her. I'm going to confirm that on Monday. We'll call you then with either an appointment or to tell you when she will call you. OK?"
NO! Its not OK. Can't you give me a hint? Some idea of what's going on? You can't seriously leave me dangling all weekend! But she does not give me a chance to say anything. She quickly hangs up. Am I being paranoid? Does it seem as if there is something serious going on here and no one wants to have to say it to me?
Oh, shut up! Regardless, there is no sense stewing and fussing. I will find out something hopefully on Monday and not before. I still feel fine. I am still in good shape. Nothing has changed except my hope being unanswered, and that's not a big deal. Just focus on work and maintain your calm trust.
Deep breath. I am fine. Still, there is that nagging little voice in the back of my head . . . RESET - they told you they would call you on Monday and let you know how to access the results!
Well, I put it off as long as I could. Voice lessons and Reference Desk hours in the morning, lunch with Kiel, statistics to finish before Monday's staff meeting - I could dream up a thousand excuses. But my curiosity finally got the better of me. Even though I don't want to know, I need to know.
I call the number for lab and test results (the system at Wilmot is sometimes hard to figure out). "Wilmot Cancer Center. This is Cheryl." I explain my situation. She takes my information and looks me up. "Phone number?" I give her my cell, quickly changing it from vibrate to LOUD so I don't miss their call. I have already missed one call from them yesterday because I didn't hear the phone go off.
"I'll give your number to the nurses." Hum. Seems like if it had been good - clean - nothing to worry about, she would have told me on the spot. "DON'T JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS!" I tell myself sternly. It's probably just protocol. Receptionists don't have the authority. . .
I try to finish statistics. I am just getting into it when my cell rings. It's the clinic. I wait for the second ring before answering. Goodness, I am being silly. I am sure whatever it is, God will be with me. "Hi, Esther. This is JoAnn, one of Dr. Young's nurses. Dr. Young is not in today, and I am not clear whether she will call you with the results or if you need to come in and speak with her. I'm going to confirm that on Monday. We'll call you then with either an appointment or to tell you when she will call you. OK?"
NO! Its not OK. Can't you give me a hint? Some idea of what's going on? You can't seriously leave me dangling all weekend! But she does not give me a chance to say anything. She quickly hangs up. Am I being paranoid? Does it seem as if there is something serious going on here and no one wants to have to say it to me?
Oh, shut up! Regardless, there is no sense stewing and fussing. I will find out something hopefully on Monday and not before. I still feel fine. I am still in good shape. Nothing has changed except my hope being unanswered, and that's not a big deal. Just focus on work and maintain your calm trust.
Deep breath. I am fine. Still, there is that nagging little voice in the back of my head . . . RESET - they told you they would call you on Monday and let you know how to access the results!
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Lasagna!
What a lovely surprise! One of the women in the evening service I attend so thoughtfully made us a lasagna dinner and brought it to the Library last night as I was getting out of work. It was so perfect. The boys drooled all the way home as the delicious smells tantalized our palates.
It didn't take three shakes for them to dig in once we got home. Fresh bread, salad and the most mouth watering concoction got piled on plates. I passed on the salad, but thoroughly enjoyed the rest, including the brownies for dessert!
I sat in the blue chair with my feet up and took my time savoring every single bite. What a treat! No cooking, no fussing, no "store-bought" cardboard taste. How wonderful. The room was very quiet, save for the sighs of contentment, as we each enjoyed the repast.
Her gesture of kindness was much appreciated. Am I not the most blessed person you ever met?
It didn't take three shakes for them to dig in once we got home. Fresh bread, salad and the most mouth watering concoction got piled on plates. I passed on the salad, but thoroughly enjoyed the rest, including the brownies for dessert!
I sat in the blue chair with my feet up and took my time savoring every single bite. What a treat! No cooking, no fussing, no "store-bought" cardboard taste. How wonderful. The room was very quiet, save for the sighs of contentment, as we each enjoyed the repast.
Her gesture of kindness was much appreciated. Am I not the most blessed person you ever met?
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Down to a Dull Roar
Finally! My tooth has calmed down to a mere ache. The antibiotic (which I got for free from Wegmans!) must be strong because it makes my stomach hurt and I have to run to the bathroom constantly. I am taking full strength yogurt with it - none of this skimmed or fat free stuff.
It's really hard to focus when you are battling pain. The meds sap all my energy until just breathing is sometimes demanding. I keep moving though. Because I can. What with all the recent testing, I may reach a point where I am back in treatment and won't be able to put one foot in front of the other. So I press through while I am free to do so.
It gives me a whole renewed appreciation for people with things like Fibromyalgia and other sorts of constant pain. Life can be hard when you find no relief. I renewed my efforts to reach out to my neighbor who is struggling with that. I think she might come to church with me on Easter.
I just hope when I do see the dentist that the whole thing doesn't get all stirred up again. I hope I don't lose the tooth, but I have to get it taken care of before any treatments begin. That's for sure. How does that song go? Smile when your tooth is aching . . .
It's really hard to focus when you are battling pain. The meds sap all my energy until just breathing is sometimes demanding. I keep moving though. Because I can. What with all the recent testing, I may reach a point where I am back in treatment and won't be able to put one foot in front of the other. So I press through while I am free to do so.
It gives me a whole renewed appreciation for people with things like Fibromyalgia and other sorts of constant pain. Life can be hard when you find no relief. I renewed my efforts to reach out to my neighbor who is struggling with that. I think she might come to church with me on Easter.
I just hope when I do see the dentist that the whole thing doesn't get all stirred up again. I hope I don't lose the tooth, but I have to get it taken care of before any treatments begin. That's for sure. How does that song go? Smile when your tooth is aching . . .
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