This little story was forwarded by my niece Suzanne, who helps me maintain my positive attitude and who accomplishes much herself with positivism. I cannot attribute the story because it came off the internet--I can only say I did not write it myself but I embrace its spirit!
Attitude
There once was a woman who woke up one morning, looked in the mirror,
And noticed she had only three hairs on her head.
'Well,' she said, 'I think I'll braid my hair today.'
So she did and she had a wonderful day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror
And saw that she had only two hairs on her head.
'H-M-M,' she said, 'I think I'll part my hair down the middle today.'
So she did and she had a grand day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and noticed
That she had only one hair on her head.
'Well,' she said, 'today I'm going to wear my hair in a pony tail.'
So she did, and she had a fun, fun day.
The next day she woke up, looked in the mirror and
Noticed that there wasn't a single hair on her head.
'YAY!' she exclaimed. 'I don't have to fix my hair today!'
Attitude is everything.
Be kinder than necessary,
For everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly.
Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass...
It's about learning to dance in the rain.
It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived.
Friday, November 26, 2010
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
I take it all back. . .
Okay, okay, so ya got me. Chemo IS a bitch. Losing hair, not so much.
Chemo has it's own clever little way of manifesting its charm, shall we say, on each individual. It smiled beguilingly at me at first and seduced me into complacency. The first three weeks were a breeze except for that hair thing. I heard about a woman who completed the Hocking Hills Peletonia while on chemo. Why not? I am strong and if she can do THAT, a normal "human bean" like me can certainly do, like the normal stuff, you know? I have no ambitions about a 100 mile bike ride through the hills in late summer, but normal life? "No prob."
Second round, humm. Feeling more tired than usual but that is to be expected, I was told. Those 12 hour nights still feeling good, 3 hour afternoon naps feeling a BIT self indulgent, but what the hey? Cancelled driving to exercise class and felt like a wimp for not toughing it out, but in all fairness, I ended up in the ER that night with a zero white blood cell count which ain't good. So, maybe calling off the aerobics was good judgment on my part? Nice stay with the nurses, and then back home.
Third round--Wham Sheezam! Holly mackerel, I really didn't see that coming. In addition to the chemo treatment (which always goes smoothly without the feared physical side effects for which it is reputed), my doctor treated me to a special immunity treatment for slightly more than the cost of a thousand margaritas at happy hour. "Expect a little achy-ness", they said. "Tylenol, if you need it." So, again, "no prob", and I won't have to re-visit those 14 doctors in the ER again. Cost effective prevention, I thought.
Well, my posture was very good for the next four days! Virtual traction, trapped in my own body, and as straight as though I was strapped to a native American traverse device. Imagine Arte Johnson on "Laugh In" shuffling along with his trench coat and cane--
or riding his trycicle and slowly, so s l o w l y , toppling over sideways--muttering the entire time. Or a cardboard cutout of me hovering rigid over a chair to watch a movie. Put little round soles on the bottom of my shoes, stand me up, have yer fun wiith me tapping my forehead and and watching me go BOING! BOING! BOING! back and forth at your touch. Yep, that was me, folks, and some of the muttering was "not for prime time"! Well, actuallly most of it. . .
But, darn it, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, and flexibility is HIGHLY underrated. Try sitting without bending your knees. Try drinking coffee without bending your elbows. Try putting on shoes without bending your waist or your fingers. Thank goodness straws do bend! So, take a moment and kvell in those lovely joints: knees, fingers, elbows, and waist. Try 'em, use 'em, enjoy 'em. Appreciate them. I am bending once again, and it feels soooooooo good.
This little adventure with chemo is a lesson in appreciation. I was a "straight up" cowgirl for four days, doncha know it. I would have willingly taken the Tylenol for the price of drinking the thousand margaritas if they had told me then what I know now. I wonder how riding 100 miles on a bike without bending your knees would actually work . . .humm, not so much.
Well, I'd rather concentrate on Margaritaville. Bottoms up! Look at that lovely elbow bend!
Chemo has it's own clever little way of manifesting its charm, shall we say, on each individual. It smiled beguilingly at me at first and seduced me into complacency. The first three weeks were a breeze except for that hair thing. I heard about a woman who completed the Hocking Hills Peletonia while on chemo. Why not? I am strong and if she can do THAT, a normal "human bean" like me can certainly do, like the normal stuff, you know? I have no ambitions about a 100 mile bike ride through the hills in late summer, but normal life? "No prob."
Second round, humm. Feeling more tired than usual but that is to be expected, I was told. Those 12 hour nights still feeling good, 3 hour afternoon naps feeling a BIT self indulgent, but what the hey? Cancelled driving to exercise class and felt like a wimp for not toughing it out, but in all fairness, I ended up in the ER that night with a zero white blood cell count which ain't good. So, maybe calling off the aerobics was good judgment on my part? Nice stay with the nurses, and then back home.
Third round--Wham Sheezam! Holly mackerel, I really didn't see that coming. In addition to the chemo treatment (which always goes smoothly without the feared physical side effects for which it is reputed), my doctor treated me to a special immunity treatment for slightly more than the cost of a thousand margaritas at happy hour. "Expect a little achy-ness", they said. "Tylenol, if you need it." So, again, "no prob", and I won't have to re-visit those 14 doctors in the ER again. Cost effective prevention, I thought.
Well, my posture was very good for the next four days! Virtual traction, trapped in my own body, and as straight as though I was strapped to a native American traverse device. Imagine Arte Johnson on "Laugh In" shuffling along with his trench coat and cane--
or riding his trycicle and slowly, so s l o w l y , toppling over sideways--muttering the entire time. Or a cardboard cutout of me hovering rigid over a chair to watch a movie. Put little round soles on the bottom of my shoes, stand me up, have yer fun wiith me tapping my forehead and and watching me go BOING! BOING! BOING! back and forth at your touch. Yep, that was me, folks, and some of the muttering was "not for prime time"! Well, actuallly most of it. . .But, darn it, you don't know what you've got 'til it's gone, and flexibility is HIGHLY underrated. Try sitting without bending your knees. Try drinking coffee without bending your elbows. Try putting on shoes without bending your waist or your fingers. Thank goodness straws do bend! So, take a moment and kvell in those lovely joints: knees, fingers, elbows, and waist. Try 'em, use 'em, enjoy 'em. Appreciate them. I am bending once again, and it feels soooooooo good.
This little adventure with chemo is a lesson in appreciation. I was a "straight up" cowgirl for four days, doncha know it. I would have willingly taken the Tylenol for the price of drinking the thousand margaritas if they had told me then what I know now. I wonder how riding 100 miles on a bike without bending your knees would actually work . . .humm, not so much.
Well, I'd rather concentrate on Margaritaville. Bottoms up! Look at that lovely elbow bend!
Saturday, November 6, 2010
The world would be a better place . . .
After my adventures in the ER circus, I was put in solitary confinement for four days while my white blood cells recovered. Private room with a ominous black ulltraviolet germicidal canister air filter and the door closed at all times. I was occasionally let out to walk the yard (hall) with a trustee (nurse), and I haunted the halls that Halloween weekend like a spectre in my long white hooded robe and white surgical mask. Bored, I approached two orderlies with hand extended. The treat was the shocked expression on their faces when I said "trick or treat" and demanded they hand over candy. I am entertained by the stupidest things, I swear!
Steve visited daily and the only other person able to storm the Bastille was my steadfast and incorrigable friend, Shelby. We stared at each other over surgical masks and it felt a little like Mad Magazine's spy vs. spy! But, because isolated as I was, the nurses and aides took pity on me and came to chat. (I later began to suspect my room was a nice safe hidey hole for a few minutes respite from their other duties.)
And this brings me to the point of my discussion. The chats were reveletory. Matthew--tall, slender, articlate, and elegant aide of African American descent, is raising two young boys, apparently on his own. He spoke to me about how much he believes in the "Power of the Tongue" when raising children. I had not heard the phrase before, but I immediately knew what he meant. He was very passionate about the powerful effect of words on children--the impact of mean words, disapproving words; and the importance of kind and instructive ones.
Rachel, 23 with impossibly unruly curls and darling freckles, is concerned with raising her 15 month old. She was raised in a rigid religious home where everything was done on schedule, by the book, with only time for work and study. She was not allowed to play with other children! After three years at college doing what she had always done (adhere to the rules and the schedule) and working three jobs, she decided to break a rule and have some fun. Her famly disowned her and would not speak to her for 2 1/2 years. She wants her son to "Know God" but not her parents' version, and said she could see all the havoc wreaked on the world in the name of religion--if your family tuns their back on you because of religion, what hope is there for what they will do to strangers?
Cleo, who had been to South Africa to do good works, commented on the overwhelming feeling of tension, threat. mistrust, and anger that pervades the areas outside the groomed colonial remnants of Cape Town, and are especially palpable in Johannesburg. She was able to spend time with Moher Theresa's order Siisters of Mercy and was greatly affected by thier humanity. She would like to return and help again with women's health care and especially HIV education, to counteract the shaman's' influence on Aids which is having devestating effects on women, girls and infants.
There were more stories, but this small sampling made me think our world would be a better place for children (and everyone, in the long run) if it were run by the values of oncology nurses: kindness in words to others, acceptance, education, peace, respect for those smaller, weaker, sicker or needier.
But then, if they left to heal the world, who would I have to talk to? Ah, of course, my husband and that other spy !
Steve visited daily and the only other person able to storm the Bastille was my steadfast and incorrigable friend, Shelby. We stared at each other over surgical masks and it felt a little like Mad Magazine's spy vs. spy! But, because isolated as I was, the nurses and aides took pity on me and came to chat. (I later began to suspect my room was a nice safe hidey hole for a few minutes respite from their other duties.)
And this brings me to the point of my discussion. The chats were reveletory. Matthew--tall, slender, articlate, and elegant aide of African American descent, is raising two young boys, apparently on his own. He spoke to me about how much he believes in the "Power of the Tongue" when raising children. I had not heard the phrase before, but I immediately knew what he meant. He was very passionate about the powerful effect of words on children--the impact of mean words, disapproving words; and the importance of kind and instructive ones.
Rachel, 23 with impossibly unruly curls and darling freckles, is concerned with raising her 15 month old. She was raised in a rigid religious home where everything was done on schedule, by the book, with only time for work and study. She was not allowed to play with other children! After three years at college doing what she had always done (adhere to the rules and the schedule) and working three jobs, she decided to break a rule and have some fun. Her famly disowned her and would not speak to her for 2 1/2 years. She wants her son to "Know God" but not her parents' version, and said she could see all the havoc wreaked on the world in the name of religion--if your family tuns their back on you because of religion, what hope is there for what they will do to strangers?
Cleo, who had been to South Africa to do good works, commented on the overwhelming feeling of tension, threat. mistrust, and anger that pervades the areas outside the groomed colonial remnants of Cape Town, and are especially palpable in Johannesburg. She was able to spend time with Moher Theresa's order Siisters of Mercy and was greatly affected by thier humanity. She would like to return and help again with women's health care and especially HIV education, to counteract the shaman's' influence on Aids which is having devestating effects on women, girls and infants.
There were more stories, but this small sampling made me think our world would be a better place for children (and everyone, in the long run) if it were run by the values of oncology nurses: kindness in words to others, acceptance, education, peace, respect for those smaller, weaker, sicker or needier.
But then, if they left to heal the world, who would I have to talk to? Ah, of course, my husband and that other spy !
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Wrap it Up!
My friend Jean Martin gave me permission to print her scarf tricks--basically insurance against the "Jemima effect". These variations dress up the head with twists and turns. She recommends soft cotton scarves (light to medium weight) or scarves that won't slip. She likes this source: www.anokhiusa.com/ because the prints are beautiful and not expensive. Of course, any scarf you love is great. I recommend adding a cap liner for volume availlable at tlc Direct www.tlcdirect.org/ . Happy Wrapping!
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