Halloween

Kiel's church planned "Trunk and Treat" - a way to give out candy from the trunks of people's cars in the church parking lot. Hundreds of pounds of candy. Kiel decked his car out like Candy Land and dressed in costume to be a candy giver outer. The event was supposed to last from 5pm to 8pm.

Drew decided he would go get candy. Unfortunately, he took so long coming up with a costume that he didn't arrive until 7pm, by which time all the candy had been distributed and the cars were heading home. Too bad. He didn't get one piece of candy.

So unlike when we were kids living in a small town. We plotted our costumes weeks in advance, finding treasures hidden in closets that we could turn into some monster or angel. Sometimes Mom sewed a costume. We all went as pumpkins at some point when we were younger. Mom had made the costume out of bright orange material, and it was stuffed full and round with newspapers.

We planned our collection paths carefully, staying within the "silk stocking" section of town where they gave out big chocolate bars, and starting the evening with the places farthest from home and working our way towards our house. That way if our bag was too full, we could drop it off at our house, take a fresh bag, and take up where we left off without losing too much time!

We always went two by two (with so many sisters and brothers, it was easy to find a partner who was willing to carry out the same plan). We worked hard to get as much candy as we could. It was a big event for a household that didn't normally have the resources to buy chocolate.

After the collecting hours ended (9pm), we would sit on the floor in the living room and sort our bounty. We would be allowed to eat some candy on Halloween night, but Mom took the majority of it and stuck it in the freezer to use in lunches for the rest of the year.

We kept some for eating over the next few weeks until the excitement died away, and we gave some to those of the household who had not been able to trick or treat - the babies, the adults who stayed home to give out candy, anyone who was sick (woe to anyone who was too sick to trick or treat - they would get the short end of the stick for sure!). Of course, we didn't mind Mom taking the apples for applesauce, and we gladly gave away any candy we didn't care for.

The hard part was giving away a candybar we really liked - even if we had a lot of them! I never realized how fortunate we were to be able to collect at least a full paper grocery bag of candy, sometimes more than that. I'm sure it didn't help our teeth too much, or our tummies, but what a treat it was!

Halloween doesn't have the same reputation as it used to have. Once it was about having fun and dressing up and playing games and candy. Now it has fallen out of grace. Perhaps it is a holiday whose time has passed. One thing is for sure. It will never be like it was when I was a kid.

Birthdays

Today is my older brother's birthday. He predates me by less than two years, and I have always appreciated his unique giftings. We get along fairly well despite his early attempts to remove sibling competition (he bonked me on the head with a can of spinach when I was a baby, and once he pushed me off the porch in my baby carriage).

I wish him a most happy day filled with joy and happiness. And perhaps solitude and peace so he can pursue any of his many creative avenues which include photography, music composition, and gourmet cooking! (Not to mention building a computer in his bedroom before there were computers!)

I am always impressed by his thoughtful tender heartedness which makes me want to explore ways of gentling my own bristly approach to life. Yet this unusual caring towards loved ones is never syrupy or surfacy. It takes on a depth and strength born of his constant wrestling with life's tough questions.

He has not come easily to such a position of strength and character so admired and coveted by members of our lost and forlorn culture. Some geniuses who encounter friction with cultural norms draw back from society and live in isolation. Others are broken by the rejection. A few, like my brother, become caringly intertwined with those around them, setting for the rest of us an example of loving integrity.

Here's to you, dear brother. The older you grow, the more I admire your ways. May we all find ways to age gracefully as you are doing. I can't wait to see how amazing you are at 100.

Online Conference

Ooooo - I just wanted to tear my eyeballs out. Copyright is not my favorite subject to begin with, but to have to sit through an entire two hour online lecture done by two librarians in two far flung states was purely boring!

It's not that they were unknowledgeable of the topic. On the contrary, they were well informed. It's just that there are no black and white hard and fast rules to follow, and that is what the attendees wanted to hear. Tell me exactly what is legal and what is not and I will just do that.

But alas! There are no lines to be drawn. The best they could say is that each institution must decide their own interpretation of the nebulous legalities, develop their policies, and take their chances. If you get caught, then perhaps your institution might help further define the slippery slope of copyright contingencies.

What it really comes down to is money, of course. If by our allowing access to information we are preventing someone from being recompensed for their work, we are in the wrong. Unless of course it falls under fair use. See what I mean? Double talk.

Well, it won't be settled anytime soon. It was good to know that we are proceeding as our peer institutions are proceeding, but I could have said that in a lot less than two hours!

Teaching

How wonderful to be back in the Instruction Lab working with students to find materials for their research. The professor sends me a list of what they need to know about, and I just follow the list, using simple searches to demonstrate each database and feature.

The students smile and thank me for showing them the resources, and I know they will be back when they begin their papers. Who can remember all those little details unless you are smack dab in the middle of your topic and needing to use the online databases? If only we could find a way to make the information available when needed instead of upfront.

Of course, I create handouts that tell how to find full text of an article you have only a citation for, etc. but there are too many words. I have some capture demos, but they are not necessarily specific to the particular situation. For all that I love online instruction, it has its limitations. Sometimes there is no replacement for that face to face personal instruction at the moment of study.

Einstein once said he never bothered memorizing anything he could look up. I wonder how he would navigate today's plethora of resources. First you have to remember where to look it up and how to get to that resource. Then you have to know what terms that resource uses for your topic. Then you have to know where to go to get the rest of the information if you only find a reference to something you need!

Perhaps the inimitable Mr. E would need a personal research assistant to keep it all straight for him! Meanwhile, I encourage the students to contact me if they encounter a roadblock. Sometimes I can help.

Short Walk Down a Long Pier

September loaned October a beautiful fall day filled with blue skies and white fluffy clouds, a pleasant breeze and colorful leaves. My friend and I had arranged to meet at Charlotte Beach for an afternoon walk in the interest of helping me regain some strength through exercise, and boost my steps numbers for the Live Well, Eat Well program.

There were quite a number of people enjoying the day at Charlotte Beach. One family sat on the sandy beach in lawn chairs while their young daughter cavorted about in her bathing suit! I shivered at the sight of her and zipped my fleece lined hoodie about me.

We ambled slowly from the parking lot to the pier walkway and sat on a cold stone bench before heading down the long pier. There is no place to sit until you get to the end of the pier which looked to be a good half mile long. After sitting a bit, we began the trek out along the pier. Here and there along the stone walkway puddles of lake water decorated the little hollows. Several groups of walkers passed us, but I didn't mind. I know I am still slow these days, but I am moving and that's what counts.

The gentle swish of water brushing against the pilings was as comforting as the familiar cawing of the sea gulls as they wheeled overhead. Now and again they would dive into the water and come up with a bit of lunch, slurping some poor little fish down their craws whole and wiggling.

The sun kissed our cheeks as we sauntered slowly along surrounded by the blue waters of Lake Ontario. We chatted about kids and music and fun things. At the end of the pier were three gentlemen fishing. We sat and watched them for a good long time while I rested from the long walk. I have often seen people fish from the end of the pier, but never have I seen anyone actually catch anything. These three were zipping out good sized perch and other fish in rapid succession.

We laughed as the fish in their pail flopped about, wagging their tails to beg for freedom. One of the fish managed to jump clear of the pail and flipped this way and that on the pier until one of the men grabbed it and slid it back in the pail. They had an overflow catch for sure!

Slowly we wandered back towards the car, our lungs cleansed by the fresh air, our cheeks pink with the sun and wind. We topped our excursion off with a delightful cup of soft frozen custard in a dish - chocolate for me! Though it was October, the day captured a touch of summer lost in our unhurried strolling at water's edge. How delightful!

Labs

"So, how are you feeling?" the nurse asked as she stuck the long needle into my port.

"Tired," I answered. "And my mouth is dry all the time."

"Ah, the two most common complaints of Bexxar," she replied.

It is a far cry from what I had been led to believe, that I would not feel any side effects from the Bexxar and that my biggest complaint would be that I have to keep coming in for lab work to make sure my immune system levels don't dip too low. Sigh.

How much longer do I need to be concerned about my immune system? When will the tiredness lift? When will my mouth stop being a desert? The nurse does not know. I should call my oncologist to ask, especially since I do not see her again until January! I feel abandoned.

The nurse fills her three vials and removes the needle. My port does not even bleed a drop extra. I wander back to the car, huffing like an old woman with raggedy heart issues. Stay grateful. This will lift. After all, it took six months to get this battered. It will take at least six months to recover. After all, I am on the upswing.

A Prayer for the World

I pray that everyone in the world enjoy a pleasant night's rest, tucked into warm, cozy, comfortable beds in warm, well kept homes, as I am blessed with.

I pray that everyone in the world has a full tummy of nutritious, delicious food and clean fresh water to drink every day, as I am privileged to have.

I pray that everyone in the world be clothed with clean, warm, beautiful clothing and shoes that fit perfectly, as I am fortunate to be.

I pray that everyone in the world will be in good health or at least be able to get proper medical care when they need it, as I have experienced this year.

I pray that everyone in the world be surrounded by friends and family that love and care for them, as I have surely been this year.

I pray, Lord, that you will remind me not to overdo on my part, and to remember to share generously when faced with need in others' lives.

May all the world be blessed by the grace and love of God and be at peace.

Ladybugs and Burning Bushes

Today is a day of resting from yesterday's overdoing. Sugar and I take our time about walking. The bushes along the sides of the buildings that have been so green and non-descript all summer are now an amazing scarlet. I am told they are called burning bushes and I can see why!

I felt a bug crawling on my hand, and I reached down to brush it away only to discover it was a ladybug. For a moment I was afraid, having recently encountered those nasty orange ladybugs that bite/sting. This ladybug was orangey looking, but didn't seem the biting variety. It was sluggish and kept unfolding its wing sheath only to fold it back up.

I watched it for awhile, then shooed it away. There were a dozen or so little dotted bugs on my pants and sweatshirt, none of them in any hurry to "fly away home." They seemed to be everywhere - an invasion of them crawling about, a last ditch effort to hang on to autumn.

Me, too. I'd like to hang on to autumn. It has been a lopsided transition. Some trees are already naked, some still green, a few bright yellow or red. Nothing you could call a peak leaf season. I can wait for winter. They say it will be an unusual winter - either with lots of snow, cold and wind or little snow and cold but still wind. It is a Santa Anna year. We shall see.

Long Day

My goal for being in my office is to work four hours a day to begin with, then slowly bump it up as I get stronger. Today I did four hours, and it felt good to be getting things done, touching base with staff, ironing out wrinkles in workflow.

Usually after four hours, I start to feel tired and shaky, and I know its time to wrap things up and head home. Today I didn't feel tired or shaky, so I thought I would just keep at it a bit, pleased that my endurance seems to be improving.

I finished one project and began another, thinking that when I tired I would quit. I lost track of time, and by the time I realized that I was tired, 7 hours had flown past! I was amazed. I still didn't have the shakes.

I drove home, singing along the way, and pulled into my parking space. Then it hit. Wow. This was not just tired, this was overcooked. I wobbled up the stairs and sank into the recliner where I stayed until I went to bed.

I guess I won't try that again. A learning experience. Next week I am still shooting for 5 hour days. I think I will be able to do that. But just for now, I'll stay away from marathons.

Sensing Scents

I was walking down a mostly deserted hallway at the cancer center, and suddenly was overpowered by the smell of pepper - that strong, fresh peppery smell you sometimes get when you open a picnic basket that has been packed away with one of those cardboard containers of pepper.

I glanced around, peeked into office windows, but could not find the source of the smell. Ah, well. My nose must be off. Certainly my taste is not working properly. Sweet things taste like plastic to me, salty barely tastes salty, and spicy tastes somewhat tinny. Sometimes when I bite into something bland, my whole mouth goes berserk and puckers as if I were eating the most sour thing in the world.

I pushed the button for the up elevator, and when the doors swooshed open, I was bowled over with the sweet odor of roses. Must be the last person in the elevator was drenched in perfume! It was so strong I had to hold my nose. I mentioned it to a young lady who got on after me, and she didn't seem to know what I was talking about. Hum - peculiar.

I stepped off the elevator and into the parking garage and was immediately overcome with the smell of new tire rubber and new car smell like you encounter in a showroom at a dealer's. Wow. I don't remember smelling that when I came in.

My nose must suddenly be super sensitive for some reason. I wonder if the chemo burned away the years of pollution and gunk and I have reverted to the sense ability of my youth! The boys tell me I have a sensitive nose as it is (I can always tell when they have burned something), but now I am in overdrive. I wonder if it will last!

Last Gamma Scan

Even though I am such a morning person, the last few weeks find me not being willing to get up early. Today, though, I had an 8 am appointment for the final gamma scan. The test is easy enough, but getting there proved to be a real challenge.

I don't know if the tiredness and aching comes from the treatment, from the cancer (better not be - its supposed to be gone!), from the weakness of the immune system, or general overall fatigue. Any way you attribute it, getting out of bed takes gargantuan effort.

It feels like I have weights tied all over my body. I move s-l-o-w-l-y and with great effort. Going up stairs requires multiple stopping to catch my breath. I woke this morning just before Drew's radio alarm went off at 5:45, but I lay still. I listened to make sure Drew was up and out the door on time, then I rolled over on my back, gently lay my arms by my side, and stayed very still waiting for some strength, waiting for the muscle aches to go away.

I watched my digital clock flip away the time. I calculated that I could follow the boys example this morning and roll out of bed into my clothes and out the door if I started at 7:15 and was in the car by 7:30. Sounded like a good plan, but I still ended up being 5 minutes late for my appointment.

I can't even use the parking garage as an excuse because I actually got a spot on the first floor! Imagine that! But no one seemed flustered by my lateness. A sweet lady named Mary came in a few minutes to escort me to the scanning room and tuck me in the machine. One of the other techies came in a pointed a radiation detection gun at me and took several readings.

After some muffled conversation, they asked me if I were still taking my SSKl potassium iodide medicine. I am. I worry that my thyroid is being damaged and ask if everything is OK. Mary says my thyroid does show up on the scan, but that is not necessarily abnormal. The hope is that the medicine prevents the radiation from damaging the thyroid, and best case scenario, you see a dark bolus where the thyroid is. She does not seem worried. She said they ask everyone that question just to make sure they continue their meds.

She helps me off the table and I saunter back to the parking garage. I know I will go directly home and take a nap. At least I racked up 2,000 steps for the pedometer!

Doing Laundry

For weeks, I have not had the energy to cart the dirty laundry downstairs to the machines, load them up, trot back down to switch things around as each load finished. The boys have done it, though less than enthusiastically.

(HINT: Another great way to help cancer patients. Even if they have their own machines, its a real blessing to have someone else take care of the laundry!)

Today, I had planned to go in to my office in the morning and work on some projects. Unfortunately, I had a hard night with lots of pain, and by morning I was worn out. I was sad to have to give up my plan of going in to the library everyday this week.

I decided to focus on trying to do some normal household activities. Laundry! At least my own, which the boys had not yet tackled. Drew did his stuff because he needed to clean his soccer uniform. Kiel has enough clothes that he can go for a month without needing to wash anything.

My clothes had to be washed separately anyways because of the radiation. I guess the boys thought I wouldn't really need anything soon since I had not been going out often.

It took me almost two hours to feel like I had enough strength to make a trip downstairs, but I finally did it! I carried stuff down, loaded the machine, and returned upstairs without falling apart. Half hour later I went down and flipped things into the drier. Sugar, who is not longer quarrantined from me, went with me both times, encouraging me.

Now, I am headed to the kitchen to - gasp - cook supper! Good Lord, progress! The boys won't know what to do with me.

Painting Flannelgraph

Summers at Gramma's held many fascinations for an impressionable young lady who had yet to enter her teens. I loved feeding chickens, tending the garden, playing with the toys in Gram's Scripture Gift Shop that consumed the majority of the downstairs of her house, making a trip to the shopping plaza to have lunch at the Woolworth's counter. So many delightful experiences.



Perhaps my favorite activity, which rarely ever happened, was to be allowed to help Gram paint flannelgraph scenes. Gram had very strict standards about quality control, and a little sprout of a girl could hardly be expected to understand the importance of getting it just right.



On those occasions when Gram had a deadline to meet - perhaps a missionary was coming to visit the East Glenville Community Church of which she and Gramp were founding members - we would make our way upstairs to the southwest room where the deer head was mounted and where we kids bunked down when the whole family visited. There Gram would uncover the Box.



The Box was specially designed and created for painting flannelgraph scenes. Next to the box were bolts of flannel material - mostly white, but a bit of yellow, light green and light blue, some tan and gray. Gram spent hours cutting the material into just the right size to cover a flannelgraph board.



Stored behind the material were the patterns. First, there was a filing drawer filled with 8 x 10 scenes drawn in colored pencil. These scenes portrayed places where Bible stories took place - the Temple, a stormy sea, a calm sea, a simple home, a hillside - every conceivable place mentioned in the Bible from Genesis to Revelation.



I don't remember who drew the scenes. I think it was one of Gram's friends. But the basic outlines of every scene had been translated onto a piece of muslin, scaled to fill the appropriate size for a flannelgraph background.



On several tables scattered around the Box lay all kinds and colors of Tempra paints, brushes, knives, sponges (real artist sponges, not cleaning ones), containers of various cleaning liquids, cloths for wiping up spills and other gadgets the use of which I could only guess.



The Box itself was oblong, constructed of some sort of dark green wood. The inside was lined with aluminum foil, and had lights mounted all around the sides, halfway between the top and bottom. These lights could be turned on with the flip of a single switch. The top of the box was a thick glass plate that let you see into the box without being able to reach in.



You put a muslin template on top of the glass plate and covered it with a blank piece of flannel. Then, using metal clips, both pieces were fixed to the box. When the lights were turned on, you could clearly see the pattern through the flannel. Gram would take pens of liquid embroidery ink (mostly black although she had several colors including blue, brown, gray, red and green) and trace the pattern onto the piece of flannel.



Gram always worked meticulously. She started in the upper right hand corner and worked her way down, so as not to smear the lines already drawn. She always stuck the corner of her tongue out of the left side of her mouth in order to steady her hand. Sometimes I could hear her hum a little tune as she worked.



After the scene was transferred to the flannel, Gram would take out the paper template and set out the colors she would need, which were listed in some sort of numerical hieroglyphics I never did understand. She used the sponges mostly, creating a wash of green where there was grass, or blue of various shades for water. In rooms, the walls would take on a light gray of stone and the timbers a gentle brown. It was a real artform to apply the paint just heavily enough to tint the nap without saturating the fabric.



At first, when I was 8 or 9, my job was to hand her the tools she needed. I was allowed to sit on a stool and watch as long as I didn't touch anything. It was so interesting that I sat for hours and didn't even chatter as I so often did. When I was 10 or 11, I was allowed to carefully cut out the flannelgraph figures while I perched on my stool.



That was back in the days before die-cut and punch came along. I loved cutting out the sun, moon and stars for creation, the basket Paul was let down in, the loaves and fishes of the miracle of feeding the 5 thousand. It was way better than cutting out paper dolls, and I stuck my tongue out just like Gram to make sure I didn't cut off something important. After all, what good was a crippled man with his foot cut off?



Even after the figures only had to be punched out, I still loved releasing them from their pages and tucking them in the envelopes, carefully labeled as to Scripture story. Often, after Gram had tired and gone downstairs to make lunch, I would stay and finish the story I was working on, remembering Gram's words about how much time it saves the missionaries so that they could practice telling the stories.



When I turned 12, Gram allowed me to begin tracing the scenes with the liquid embroidery pens. At first I couldn't get the hang of it, and disastrous blobs and globs of ink splotched my work. It took a long time to learn just how hard to apply pressure and just what speed to move your hand. I finally found my stride and took great pride in turning out as many scenes of a morning as I could.



Gram inspected everything, and if my work were not good enough, she used the flannel to stuff dolls that she made for the needy children on the mission field and at the Desi Scott Orphanage. I suspect they got a lot more dolls for several years than they normally would have!



Then came the day Gram decided I should learn to paint! I could not wait. I had been watching her for years and was sure I could do it without batting an eye. Gram demonstrated while she talked me through the technique, but I was so eager to do it that I near about burst.



Finally she handed me the sponge. She had selected a sea scene, probably because you couldn't mess that up too much, and I dipped the tip of the sponge in the blue paint. I moved my hand to touch the flannel, and a big drip of paint fell smack onto the corner of the material. I gasped.



Gram grabbed a sponge and carefully maneuvered the paint until it was spread out enough to cover the mistake. "Too much paint on your sponge. All you need is a whisper," Gram said. I squeezed paint out of the sponge, dabbed it against a drip cloth and tried again.



"Gently, lightly," Gram said, peering over my shoulder. "With the nap." She took my hand in hers and brushed the sponge across the flannel in sweeping strokes, always moving from left to right. "That's it. Just brush it lightly." She let go of my hand.



I was doing it! I felt like I was flying as I watched the color magically appear, as if I were not even touching the fabric, yet somehow the color melted into the scene. It never occurred to me I was doing anything artistic. I suspect my first paint attempt ended up inside a doll, though Gram never said so.



Whenever Gram allowed me to paint, she would watch me for the first twenty minutes or so, then go about her business elsewhere in the house, making excuses to peek in and see how I was doing from time to time. Sometimes she would remind me not to get too heavy handed. Other times she would just nod and tiptoe out. The hardest part was to get her to let me start. It always took a lot of begging and pleading.



Full sets of flannelgraph scenes involved hundreds of paintings for both Old and New Testament stories. Gram gave sets away as often as she sold them, especially to missionaries in poor countries. I suspect they are still in use somewhere in the world today. They have gone out of style in America nowadays, though once in awhile I find them in use and they are such a novelty that people pay attention.



I had a complete set myself when I was traveling as a children's minister. Gram made them especially for me, and some came from my Mom who used them when she was a Sunday School teacher. I even used them with my own children when I home schooled. I still find telling a story with flannelgraph fascinating.



Perhaps someday I shall tell one to my grandchildren. But alas, I wore out the set Gram gave me, and wonder if even I could find a set to use anymore. Sometimes I think about Gram and how much she had invested in such a simple activity, yet one that touched so many lives. I still have a long ways to go!

Whining and Complaining

I hear the words come out of my mouth, and I can't believe it. I am kvetching and complaining about every little ache and pain. After all I have been through, after all the days of feeling really exhausted and yucky, why now am I suddenly moaning about feeling bad?

It's not like anyone can do anything about it, especially not the boys. I know full well that I am on the upswing and gaining strength everyday. My hair continues to grow in, the white lines on my fingernails are fading. Soon I will be back to my normal self. Or as close as I can get.

So what's the big deal with being fussy? Am I afraid that once I look normal, people will expect me to pick up where I left off whether I am ready or not? That's silly. No one has remotely suggested such a thing.

Am I just impatient to get back at it and frustrated that I am still not feeling well? Maybe. But I know I can't rush. Am I just having a grumpy day? Probably. I guess it is to be expected, but everytime I hear myself say that my legs ache or my back hurts or my stomach is queasy, I want to stuff the words back in my mouth and clap my hand over it.

I refuse to turn into the maiden aunt that no one wants to be around because she constantly complains about all her aches and pains. Perhaps I will take a nap and see if that improves my disposition. Yes, a nap. One is always in a better mood after a nice long nap.

Aches & Pains

I take it to mean that the radiation is working, all these hurting places on my body. It feels as if I have knives stuck in my bones. Moving is a demanding chore, so I sit still mostly, moving between chair and bed. I know I went through the same thing on a lighter level with the test dose, and it passed in a day or so.

I will wait it out and take things easy. Still, it won't do much good for the Wegman's Eat Well / Live Well challenge I signed up for. They send you a pedometer to track your steps. The goal is 10,000 steps or 5 miles a day. Its a joke. Today I charted 324 steps. I have a looooooong way to go.

Still, if you don't have a goal and an incentive, you won't know if you are making progress. Its a bit easier to rack up 5 fruits or veggies a day due to the need to put my medicine in fruit juice. At least in one area I might be OK!

I checked with the team leader before signing on. I would not want to make the team look bad just because I can't move like I should. But they assured me it was better to have me on board trying than to make me feel like an outcast. After all, the purpose of the program is to encourage people who are not moving enough to move more!

I figure if I get even one day of 10,000 steps, I am doing amazingly well. Maybe they should design one for recovering cancer patients! I think I would be more comfortable in a group closer to my own inabilities. Ah, well. Once I can be near Sugar again, she will encourage me to get walking. Help is on the way. Meanwhile, patience. Patience. Rome wasn't conquered in a decade.

To My Dear Friends, the Church Mice

Ever since my cancer battle began, the mice who live in the church where I conduct, via one of my sopranos, have sent me letters of encouragement, little gifts, clever puzzles, funny jokes, and newsy letters. Their missals of happy life have encouraged me so often.

This time, they have outdone themselves. They heard about the isolation because of the radiation, and sent me a care package filled with little presents, one for each day, to cheer me up while I am sequestered!

After I struggled through the main dose of radiation, they gave me a wonderful tee shirt with a smiley face that glows in the dark! In fact, glowing in the dark was a running theme of many items. They also loaned me a video about a mouse detective that was quite entertaining.

I work hard to stay connected to work, taking care of emails and going to meetings and teaching when I can. It tires me a great deal to push, but I must do so. What a welcome relief to come back to the mice and enjoy some down time, a little laugh, a puzzle, and now, a present!

Thank you, my little friends, for being so faithful and taking such good care of me. It means more than you will know! I will tuck your letters away, and save them for a future day when I am feeling blue. Then I will get them out and enjoy them all over again! I am smiling just thinking about it.

HINT: If you know someone who is battling cancer, and want to lift their spirits, this is an excellent way to do that. I heartily endorse this idea!

A Miracle

I open my eyes at 6am and smile. No maneuvers remain on my war board today. Chemo is done. Radiation is administered. All has been completed as planned to combat the cancer. And I, I have been given another day to be on earth amongst family and friends, to revel in the beauty of creation, to be touched by the tenderness of a Beethoven sonata, to be comforted by the softness of the tulip quilt my Mom made me.

It is a miracle. So many pitfalls avoided. So many disasters side stepped. How is it possible? Grace of God. Of the millions of people who have died young, I am not one. I embrace being on the other side. I do not look back. I revel in the moment, savor the time granted, thank everyone for helping, am grateful beyond understanding.

I am not so naive as to think there will be no more bumps in the road. I know full well there are still hills to climb, skirmishes to acquit. By comparison, nothing like what has transpired. I laugh out loud. It is good to meet the hope of your dark hours when you are standing in the light of day.

I take a deep breath. I am ready to begin recovery.

Clockwork Bexxar

The overwhelming fear is lifted for sure. I still know things could be bumpy, but the terror of immanent death is no longer a factor. Peace settles over me like a cloak and I ride with my friend to my appointment.

I joke with the nurses who take my vitals, telling them I am passively aggressively late for my appointment (my friend took the scenic route finding my apartment complex), and when asked what allergies I have, I say I am allergic to Bexxar. We laugh about it and one of the nurses squeezes my shoulder to let me know she totally understands.

The other nurse tells me that today will be a great day for me and that I deserve goodness and no complications. She is there to personally see to it that things go smooth as silk. She is not kidding! I receive her positive thoughts and hang on to them.

Here we go. Pre-meds both oral and IV. 40 minutes of IV fluids. Then Bexxar with fluids continuing. Three trips to the bathroom in as many hours, but only a slight tingling in the tongue and a pleasant drowsiness. If I didn't know better, I would have thought they gave me a tranquilizer to mellow me out, but I know the drugs I got and they were all either corticosteroids or antihistamine things.

I complete the Bexxar on time without having to slow the rate or stop for recovery. I am still a bit apprehensive about the second stage of going to nuclear medicine for the radioactive Bexxar. They don't push fluids or give me any preventive drugs there. But I am still trusting in God's grace, so I am able to proceed without my blood pressure going through the roof.

Based on the scans, they calculate that I don't need the full 40 cc's, only 30. The gamma radiation basically cleared my system in 71 hours. No worries about having to do a marathon of holding on either; if I need to stop and go potty, I can. We begin. Towards the end of the infusion, I develop a tingling in my feet. The doctor removes my socks and shoes to see if there is any redness. No.

Within minutes I am done. They flush my system with a bit of IV fluids, and call the nurse to deaccess my port. I am free to go and its not even 3pm yet! A far cry from last week.

I am still concerned about reactions appearing when the pretreatment drugs wear off, and indeed, along about 5pm I had more tongue and throat tingling. I keep a close watch to see if it will worsen. I drink a ton of water to help flush my system. Slowly the symptoms fade.

Then my feet take to being numb and tingling, and I stay up later than I really want to in order to monitor that. It takes a bit longer to fade. I get a few red rashes on my neck, but those go away in a relatively short time. By 3 am, the worst is over and I rest between hourly bathroom trips.

Tomorrow I suspect I will be somewhat tired, but that's OK. I am through the worst of it and other than monitoring my immune system, am on my way to recovery. YEAH!!! I have survived. No, more than survived. I have conquered.

Small Group

Although I had to drop out of my seminary core class this fall, I was allowed to continue in my Personal Spiritual Formation group. We have been together for all the Core Classes and the Dean felt it was important to remain in the group even though I would not be in the Core class. I am appreciative to be there.

It is a unique small group. We are most diverse in both denomination, age, character, gender, length of time being Christians and place of residence. We come from such a variety of backgrounds.

We are asked in this group to LISTEN to each other and to SHARE our experiences from our hearts. We do not respond to what we hear verbally, offer our advice or opinions, counsel or otherwise interfere with the life process of the person sharing. Everyone is given equal time to share how God is working in our lives over the past few weeks.

We are asked to pray for each other, and we also spend time in contemplative prayer and meditation together. It has become a very precious time of moving deeper into the things of God as God directs each one of us.

This week, I was so tired, but nonetheless, I knew if I went I would be blessed and I was so right. How uplifting it was to hear how God has been working in the lives of others, to hear how God has intersected in their lives in the midst of life's turmoils.

Everyone is dealing with difficulties from unemployment to stress on the job to hectic schedules to family demands to illnesses. But God has strengthened, God has enabled, God has given insight and wisdom, God has provided. It was very encouraging!

Plus I got to say out loud that I was struggling with terrifying fear and to identify not only what I was afraid of - the transition between life and death and not wanting to suffer or be alone therein - but also the wonderful insight God provided about making that trip through the valley of the shadow of death.

I had always thought it was my responsibility to conger up the courage to not be afraid while I was going through a facing possible death risky treatment experience. After all the verse says "I will not fear." But the Holy Spirit showed me that it is not something I do, but a state of being.

It works like this. God is with me in that valley, and God is very light of very light. His light is so bright that the valley, which I always thought was dark and gloomy and filled with shadowy hiding places for monsters and terrors and evil beings, is so illuminated by the light of Christ that I can clearly see what is out there, what is coming, and be prepared.

Besides it being as bright and clear as day, God is with me and able to defeat any foe who tries to come against me. It's really not as scary a place as I had always pictured it. It felt good to share that insight.

As well, I have been interested in learning about the "thin places" of the earth, those places where people consistently encounter the presence of God, places like Bethel and the high mountains where altars were erected. I longed to find a thin place for myself, a place where I would often feel closer to God, a place set aside.

The Holy Ghost whispered that the valley of the shadow of death is the thinnest place in the universe. If you don't feel close to the eternal there, you are in deep trouble! Not that I am recommending being there, but since I have found myself in that place repeatedly over the last six months, it is good to be aware that I always encounter a closeness with God when I find myself staring at a potentially life threatening situation.

And, a bonus, after group concluded, one of my classmates came over and gave me a blessing and prayer! She made the sign of the cross on my forehead and placed her hand on my head and lifted me to the throne of grace. An unexpected and welcomed kindness.

How amazing is it that God so arranged my schedule that I would have the blessing of small group the night before the most taxing part of my cancer treatment, the one I struggled with so much. I am surrounded by love and prayers and support. Fear is subsiding. Everything will be fine. Tonight, I will sleep peacefully. God is good.

Prince Charming to the Rescue

While I was moping about, Kiel asked me if he could get me anything. My usual retort to that question is "a check for a half million." But for some reason, I told him he should get Prince Charming to take me away from all this (this being the cancer, the isolation, the feeling sick, the blahs, etc.). He said OK.

Today, Kiel had to work at the DayCare Center from 6 am to after noon. When he wandered home, he presented me with a full size drawing of a man - my Prince Charming! His name is Gene, and he is a billionaire 5 times over with an IQ of 184 who has plenty of time to spend with me - and Blue Eyes!

Kiel admitted he served as the model for the outline, though I have to admit Prince Charming's brain shows through, which is a bit disconcerting. He is quiet and not demanding at all, nice qualities in any man. His smile is wide and pleasant, and he has a tattoo on his left arm that reads "Hope you feel better soon. Love ya."

Who could resist? I must have laughed for twenty minutes. Then I hung him on the wall by his head and shoulders with thumbtacks. Nice. Now I no longer have to sing that silly song "Someday my Prince will come."

Coping

Although the heaviness and darkness has lifted, I recognize that I am still under the influence of the drugs and not acting myself. I decide to go with it, and sequester myself in my bedroom, moving all my medicine bottles, my laptop, and my snacks to my room.

I do not get dressed. Today, I will rest my spirit as I have often rested my body. I will not push through the glumness. God will lift me, or the doctor will change the medicine. One or the other. Not to mention that the final radiation treatment is still hanging over me and could very well be playing into this moping.

Being Sunday, it occurs to me that perhaps attending church online might be a good antidote. I attend the National Cathedral - it seems horribly sad and glum to me. I go to Duke University Chapel. The speaker of the day is ridiculous (its me, I am sure). I check out a few links my friends have sent me, but nothing seems to set well. I finally give up.

I alternately sleep and watch funny movies. The boys poke their heads in and I simply say I had a rough night and am not feeling well - true enough. I have to eat in order to take the medicine, so I nibble on bread and cheese and grapes. I know I am not good company. I do not fuss. I will wait it out. If there is no change by tomorrow I will call the doctor.

My son from North Carolina calls. At first, I don't want to answer it, but I want to talk to someone. So I answer. I am morose for a bit, but as I hear the girls (Kelly and Katie) chattering in the background, I become interested in what they are doing. They are watching a cartoon called Olivia the Pig (silly sort of thing). I hear their peals of laughter.

DJ is kind of down about finances, and nothing he says is particularly uplifting, but as we talk, I feel my depression lifting. We change subjects to more joy filled topics - Christmas and autumn leaf collecting and making cookies and dressing up for Halloween (Kelly wants to be a girl for Halloween!).

Suddenly life doesn't seem so bleak. We chat a bit more, and then he has to go. I wonder if the depression will return. But Kiel pokes his head in and I know I am over it. I suggest getting some take out for dinner and watching a movie. I come out of the bedroom. I smile and chat and I know that whatever it was that set me off has passed. I am relieved.

The rest of the evening passes normally with running conversation and delicious food and a bright outlook. Will the depression come back? Maybe. Is it entirely medicine induced? Maybe. Is it part and parcel of dealing with cancer? Probably. But for tonight, I look forward to sleeping peacefully. Even Kiel prays that I will sleep well when he comes to tuck me in.

Medicine Induced Dark Night

As the day wore on, I felt less and less energetic, a disappointment since I had been finding strength to do little things I had been leaving undone - like clean my room! By the time I went to bed, my whole body was aching and hurting, and my hands and feet were numb. Additionally, my muscles, especially in my back and neck, were constantly cramping - all symptoms of the drugs.

The worst part was the depression. I am not susceptible to depression, nor have I had to deal with it much throughout the summer. But one of the symptoms of the potassium is excessive sadness and depression, and I could somehow recognize through the haze that this was not me, but a result of the medicine.

How dark the night seemed, how much worse the aches and pains that normally I am able to handle. I took Tylenol, but my usual coping ability was impaired. How strange to see yourself behaving in ways that are not you and be helpless to do anything about it!

I know it will pass - if not right away, then surely after I stop taking the medicine. As the night wore on, I woke every hour at odd times in a surreal and weird fashion. 1:11, 2:22, 3:33, 4:44, 5:55. Each time I had to force myself to get out of bed and go to the bathroom since any ability to hold on had gone out the window.

Tonight, there was no reciting of Bible verses or singing of hymns - or even children's songs. There was no hugging one's self and rocking. There was no sense of anything but the darkness. So I did what I suspect everyone does in such a state. I called on the Name. I could call His name.

Over and over when I reached the depths of despair and darkness, I would whisper "Jesus." With tears running down my cheeks, I summoned my brain to focus. Sometimes I could only say it once. Sometimes I could repeat the name. It was enough to help lift the heaviness. I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that people were praying for me, but I could not pray. I knew that God was with me, but I could not sense His presence.

Finally, I heard His voice soothing me. They were such encouraging words. "Daughter, joy comes in the morning." Peace flooded over my drug bothered brain. Joy. This night of darkness will not last. God is bigger. I belong to Him. The sorrows and pain of cancer will subside. Morning will come as it has been doing for eons. And with it, joy.

I do not fret. This will pass. I will do what is needed, with full knowledge that I will be myself again in good time.

Gamma Scan Day 2

Despite my isolation, I drove to Strong for a scan to see how the Bexxar is spreading. From the moment I entered the parking garage, the community seemed to be on edge. I waited in full park mode for over fifteen minutes while someone in line ahead of me just sat on level 1 until a space opened up. There was much honking and beeping which I ignored, being atuned to a lovely little Bach piece on the radio. Me, I always head for level 5 which usually has lots of open spaces.

Once I made it to the elevator, the crowds were thick as peanut butter. I waited for four cars to go without me until I could find one that wasn't packed. After all, I didn't want to expose anyone unduly to my radiation, nor did I wish to be exposed to their germs.

After I checked in at Radiation, I took my seat as requested to wait for my name to be called. Within minutes, the double doors next to my chair burst open and a family pod spewed into the hallway in full gripe mode. It seems they had arrived at 8 in the morning, and it now being 2 in the afternoon and they still not being released caused a most prickly and contentious situation.

I felt sorry for the doctor who did the only thing he could - stood there and agreed with them and assured them it would not happen again next week. It's a worrisome comment on the state of health care availability. Especially for shrinking cities like Rochester. I shudder to think how difficult simple health care will become.

I hunkered down for a long wait in a far corner, away from the crowded waiting areas. The hall was filled with people who all looked as if they had been there a very long time. I stayed in my little corner as far as I could be and still hear my name called, and took out my cell phone. Time to play a mindless word game.

What a surprise when a woman with beautiful long black hair appeared and called me next! I stood and immediately felt the dagger eyes of my co-waitees pierce my luck. Amy introduced herself and led me off down a long hall and around several corners to the same little scanning room I had been in on Wednesday.

I lay thankfully on the skinny table and relaxed while the scanner moved over me. I caught a glimpse of the monitor where my scan was slowly being constructed - it looked like one big shiny blob of light to me! In fifteen minutes, Amy was wisely pointing me to an exit that would not take me past the waiting hordes in the hallway.

My next scan is on day 6, Tuesday. Here's hoping that family has gotten to go home by then!

Recovering and Gamma Isolation

Poor Sugar. She does not understand why she is cooped up in the kitchen when I am within clear view in the living room. She divides her time between whining while pacing and lying dejectedly on the floor, scorning the comforts of her blanket or the rug.

Drew is nervous about the exposure part too. He worries that if he sits too close he will be affected. What happens if he accidentally touches something I have touched? Will he grow an extra head? Will his skin melt? I think he is relieved that he has school today and a room in which he can hibernate until this is all over and done. I know how he feels!

Today I am not so tired or stressed, but my skin is exceedingly dry and rough, and I am very thirsty. I take my thyroid medicine, still a bit nervous about that, but less of a wreck. My face alternately flushes red and then cools down - not a rash really, but certainly not from being overly warm despite today's blue skies!

Last night we resorted to ordering pizza for dinner, but tonight we will pick up dinner at the church. Rose cooks such delicious meals for the community dinners and tonight is goulash. Yum.

At least the nurse was right about the radiation not making me feel blicky afterwards. The only thing that bothers me is the bright red burn of my cheeks. They actually hurt and I am wondering if I have a radiation burn. Despite that, I managed to get stuff done around the house that I have been ignoring.

And I worked on my ministry file that was due back in May! I might actually turn it in sometime soon. Wouldn't that be great! The brain is re-engaging! Hope is on the rise.

Bexxar

I am nervous. I know because my blood pressure is high. I am so glad my pastor is with me. She totally understands what I am going through. I got a voice mail message from one of my choir members who had this same cancer over a decade ago. She just wanted to let me know she is thinking of me and praying for me today. I so appreciate the call.

Pastor and I chat comfortably while the nurse accesses my port, hooks up the IV and gives me the pretreatment medicines. Just as the Bexxar arrived, Pastor had to go, but she prayed with me before she left, anointing me with oil and entrusting me into the hands of God. I breathed a sigh of relief.

About half way through the infusion of the 'cold' Bexxar - without the radiation - my tongue begins to tingle. It spread to my throat and it starts to feel like my tongue is swelling up. They stop the infusion to figure out what to do. The physician's assistant came to talk with me, doctors were called, decisions made.

One nurse remembered a patient who had a hard time with the Bexxar, and they found it was important to keep her hydrated, so they decide to let just IV fluids run for a bit while they gave me Decadron and Benadryl IV to counteract the reaction. After awhile, the tingling and burning and swelling subsided.

They came to see how I was doing - I had expressed a thought about just stopping and going home! But they assured me that if they slowed the rate down, with the heftier drugs, I should be fine to at least finish the cold infusion. I agreed.

Once that was complete, they sent me to radiation. At first there was a lot of confusion about where I should be, and the computer was no help. After a number of calls, I finally got where I was supposed to be and checked in.

I was escorted to a special room where the walls were lined with lead - rather intimidating all on its own! Fortunately, the amount of Bexxar they were giving me in nuclear medicine was much lower than what I had upstairs in the cancer center.

My blood pressure was even higher by now, partly due to the drugs I suspect, running 185 over 95. I was quite late starting the procedure (which was supposed to begin at 2, but it was now 3:30+), and the doctor began before talking me through the process, explaining as we went to save time.

He stayed at my side while the technician began the infusion, taking my pulse and blood pressure constantly. We chatted until the tingling began in my tongue again, and they slowed the infusion down. This was going to take much longer than the half hour it should have taken. Bummer since I would not be able to go to the bathroom between the infusion and the gamma scan despite all the fluid push.

Somehow, I got through the infusion and into the scanning room with the help of everyone. The scan was easy - no tight spaces, no moving table. The scanner moves over you, and not even at a close range - at least a few inches from my body. Then we rushed to the bathroom.

While we waited for a nurse to deaccess my port - something nuclear medicine does not do - I pondered the doctor's comments. From this point on (though less urgent after such a small dose this week) I am to stay a good ten feet from my family members because of the radioactivity. In my apartment, that means being in different rooms!

I cannot use the same towels or even hang my towels near theirs. I cannot use the same dishes. And of course, no contact with babies, puppies, old people or anyone with a compromised immune system. Originally they had said for a week (my research says the gamma rays reach half life in 8 days), but with this dose, the doctor felt 3 or 4 days sufficient. Next dose will be much larger (40 compared with 5), so then I need to be more careful and it will be at least 5 days of separation and isolation.

We had already bought paper plates and cups and a gate to keep the dog in a different room. The boys will have to take care of her needs completely for the next 2 weeks. What a delightful surprise to return home and discover that the kids had completely cleaned the bathroom, straightened and vacuumed the living room, and done all the dishes. My tension had left me no energy to take care of those things before I left.

I was definitely tired due to both the stress and the drugs, and now battling a touch of diarrhea. I was also concerned because the doctor had cautioned that when the Benadryl wore off in about 6 hours, some of the symptoms might flare up again.

If that should happen - especially the huge red rash that had plastered my cheeks, ears and neck - and was spreading and itching, if my tongue started feeling fuzzy and fat or a temperature, I would have to call the hot line and possibly come in for another round of Benadryl. But he did say that the further from the time of infusion, the less severe reactions tend to be.

I reverted to childhood and watched a series of Veggie Tales dvds after calling Mom to let her know I was OK. Next week will be easier and harder. Easier because they will give me the heftier drugs upfront, keep the infusion rate at the slow speed and give me lots of fluids. Learning curves are so helpful.

Harder because the amount I will get in nuclear medicine will be a higher dose with more radiation. Then once I get through that, I will be monitored for my cell counts as my immune system is affected and "crashes" - as long as it doesn't go too low, I will be alright, and the nurse assures me that no one has had to deal with the "too low" to date.

I am happy to be safely through the test dose. I am happy to know the next round is the last round, and it should go better. I am happy to be breathing and slowly recovering from the days events. Keep those prays coming!

Five Dollar Peace of Mind

Yesterday I was testy all day. I told the boys upfront that I am unnerved by the upcoming treatment, and if I am grumpy, it's not them, it's me. Today I have to begin the potassium iodide treatment to protect my thyroid gland from being destroyed by the radiation I will get.

I thought this was a medicine that I would take once before each treatment, and I was stressed because it is an iodine based solution, and I still am not convinced that iodine is something I am not allergic to.

According to the specialists, my seafood allergy and my IV dye allergy are not related. Most people who are allergic to seafood are allergic to a protein in them, and most people allergic to IV dye are allergic to an oil in the solution. So they feel that I do not in fact have an iodine allergy. But that's most people.

The one comforting thought about it came during prayer last night when the Holy Spirit reminded me that every time I have a surgical procedure, people look at my chart and ask if I have ever had an allergic reaction to the beta-iodine solution they use on your skin. I never have - hey! One piece of information that would suggest a situation in which I am NOT allergic to iodine.

Then I learned that I would have to take this medicine 3 times a day for 3 weeks! Yikes! The thought of starting this part of the treatment at home alone was terrifying. There is no pretreatment prescribed in case I am allergic. What if I have a reaction? What if my throat swelled shut and I couldn't breathe? What if - Well, I realized I could not deal with this calmly and rationally.

I tried to think about what exactly frightens me so much about this thing that to all my doctors is not even a blip on their radar screen. They have helped many patients through this process, and not encountered anyone having trouble with this.

I am not afraid of being dead - I'll be in a much better place. I am concerned about the boys being left alone, but I have made plans with my sisters and sons, and left them in God's hands, so they will do just fine. It is that transition area. I do not want to be alone struggling between life and death. I surely want to be able to get help if possible.

The solution? As ridiculous as it sounds, I decided to drive to the hospital and take the medicine there. I can sit and read in the waiting area. If I have a reaction, help is right there. If I don't have a reaction, I have lost nothing but the parking fee, and no one will ever know. So for my peace of mind, that is what I do.

I encounter a bit of an itchy feeling, but no hives. I have a bit of numb tingling in my feet, nothing serious. I am comfortable that I can take the next dose at home. The overwhelming fear is subsiding. I refuse to feel ridiculous about it. You do what have to do for peace of mind. And I am willing to pay the $5 for my lack of trust.

Its a learning curve. I am so like a child in some ways. At my age, go figure.

The Wrong Eyebrows

My head has slowly been growing white peach fuzz looking hair! Yeah!!! I try not to get too attached, because there is a slim chance that the radiation could make it fall out again, but the boys tell me that in the back it is coming in dark brown! No auburn yet, but I can be patient.

I looked in the mirror this morning and noticed that I have the semblance of eyebrows! They sort of look like they are painted on at the moment - and in a nice shape I might add. But they are BLACK!!! Somehow somebody got the orders mixed up! I have never had black hair - only dark brown.

This is a new - and a bit frightening - look for me. Reminds me of Elvira - sort of spooky in a non-frightening way. I wonder if they will grow all the way in black. Or if after they grow in they will suddenly realize that they ended up on the wrong face and blush pure white out of embarrassment. Or just to match my age - which, btw, I am resolved to reverse.

I figure that I should get a few years of youth to make up for having to feel like an old person when I'm not one. So when my hair does wander back, I am going to the nearest hairdresser, show her my wig that everyone says takes ten years off me, and command that she make my hair look like that!

I just hope I don't have to sacrifice an arm and a leg to make it happen!

In the House of the Lord

The closer I get to the Bexxar treatments, the harder it is to refuse to think about them. I have great concerns about their interaction with my allergies to seafood and IV dye. Even though the doctors have done much research and talked with many specialists, the answers revolved around how it is for most people. I happen to have a bit of experience with learning that my body doesn't seem to function like most people's!

Last night I spent much time in prayer, and drew great comfort from remembering many many times when the Lord saw me through difficult times. Verses came to mind that helped me remember that I stand on the solid ground of God's love for me.

I was not at all surprised that so much of the service at church today continued God's confirmation that things will be fine, that come what may, God is with me and loves me and will be the one ultimately in charge. Our prelude was a piano meditation on 'Great is Thy Faithfulness' - wonderful words recalled to mind.

The whole service had bits and pieces of encouragement built in and I felt such an uplifting of spirit. It was World Communion Sunday, and as I began to reflect on joining in with millions of Christians around the world - and throughout time - I couldn't help but know that even should things go sour with the radiation treatment and I find myself standing before my Maker, what better way to spend time just beforehand praising and serving God in one of his houses.

As well, many of my choir members came up to me after the service to let me know that they would be praying for me and thinking of me during the upcoming treatments. I also know my Mom's prayer group is praying for me as well as any number of friends who constantly let me know via Facebook and email and comments from my blog that I am bathed in prayer and strength from them.

If I had to make a choice of when and where I should leave this world, it would be right after singing with a huge choir to the glory of God. What a great way to go! Of course, I am not planning to do that anytime soon, Lord willing. But today was a wonderful way to prepare for the upcoming demands that I will soon face.

Thank God for the body of Christ!

Smoking Beeches and Weeping Pines

Today as Sugar and I were taking our morning constitutional, I was relieved to see that the rain had cleared and the skies were blue. The ground and cars were drenched from last night's deluge, but the birds were cheerfully singing.

As I stood waiting for Sugar to sniff everything in sight (or maybe she couldn't locate her usual marker scents because of all the wetness), I saw what I thought was smoke emanating from the middle of the grassy area behind the dumpsters. Did someone drop a cigarette and start a grass fire? But it was not a heavy smoke and seemed to be coming from higher up than the ground. Besides, the grass is so wet.

A closer investigation revealed that the sun was causing the rain soaked into two beech trees to dry rapidly, producing copious amounts of steam that looked for all the world like an Indian smoke signal of days long past rising into the air.

I watched in fascination until Sugar was ready to move on. We ended up standing beneath one of the pine trees on the other side of the building. While Sugar sniffed dandelions and chased bees, I caught sight of something falling from within the pine tree.

Thinking it was probably bird droppings, I stepped to one side. Then I saw another and another, so I quickly jumped out from under the tree branches. Turns out the rain had so saturated the branches of the pine tree that the needles were still letting go of drops of rain!

It was rather mesmerizing to see the ever changing patterns of water droplets. It reminded me of those desktop oceans in a glass container that tilt from side to side creating ever changing seascapes. Calming for sure.

And similar to that moment after some tragic life event when the sun is shining again and you are letting go of the heaviness you have been carrying. Yes, a good place to be.

Ta-dah!

After choir rehearsal last night, I struggled with going to work this morning. Several times I decided not to go, only to change my mind.

In the end, what made me go was the determination to complete one entire week of half days in the building. I wanted to be able to say that I have officially completed one entire week during which I was physically IN the library for a half day, even if I had to go home and take naps each afternoon!

How encouraging it is to be able to measure in concrete ways the progress of recovery. I have moved from barely able to walk the dog and shaky jello legs to moving about fairly freely without undue exhaustion, no shaky legs.

I celebrate these 'ta-dah' moments with great relish. Every milestone is worth marking. AND I am beginning to tolerate small lists and enjoy the satisfaction of crossing things off! Good thing, because in my office there will be piles of lists of things that need addressing. Life is good.

First Class

Today I had the honor of teaching the Composition Honors class about library resources! The professor moved up the time frame so I could teach before I get side lined again by the radiation treatments.

I was clearly not sure if I had enough stamina to do the session, but the professor understood and if I only got partway, that would be better than nothing. Besides, there are the inevitable handouts!

Since I have been coming into the office mornings all week, I had plenty of time to update materials, run some searches to see what information I could locate on B. T. Roberts, our institution's founder, and intertwine information location with general how-to's and tips. As well, we arranged for our archivist to showcase materials in our archive that were written by or about Mr. Roberts.

My colleagues were looking out for me as well, and helped me get the room set up, adjust to upgrades that have happened in my absence, and found me a chair/stool so that I could sit comfortable throughout the presentation. I am always so grateful for their thoughtfulness and kindnesses.

The session went well. As I suspected, I got so caught up in what we were doing that I forgot to sit down. The students were engaged and responsive and many thanked me afterwards. It felt sooooo good to be back to teaching and contributing. I can't wait to be finished with the next phase of treatment so I can get back to work in full swing!

Right now, I am going home to rest - and delighted that the tiredness is not exhaustion or that shaky jello feeling. Definitely on the upswing.