"The Phantom Pink Flamingo-er"

I've been very tired and haven't blogged as much. I must pay homage to whomever placed the large, lit pink flamingo and "Life is Good" golfballs on my front porch over the weekend. It made my husband and my day, and looks terrific when it's lit. Whoever the anonymous "flamingoer" is, we thank you for the smiles!

I'm still having the throat pain, but hoping it eases. I can't take too many pain meds as I have a freaky stomach (always have) and the pain meds make me sick. So, I trudge through day by day hoping each day gets better.

I pretty much just go to work and then come home afterwards. I've always heard radiation is fatiguing, I can now vouch for that storyline. I'm very anxious to get on the golf course, but know that will be some time. I'm also trying to put back on some of 30+ pounds I've lost. It's weird, but somedays I have an appetite, and other days I have no appetite. It's bizarre.

Keep the prayers coming,
Much Love,
Julie

"Random musings..."

Now that radiation is done, my spirits are a wee bit better. It's still weird and difficult to process that I have cancer. In one moment, my brain seems fine and able to tackle the task at hand. Then in an instant, I remember my life will never be the same with this cancer. I continue to pray that the medicines shrink the tumors. It's still very difficult to swallow, and I'm suppose to drink at least 65 ounces of water or powerade per day. I manage to complete that task, but have to use a certain liquid prescription that numbs the throat where the radiation was geared to.

As I said, it's difficult to process having this cancer. My mind tells me I should be planting my flowers, golfing, or being more active. My body tells me that is not possible yet. I did have a wonderful surprise when I got home from shopping for Wes's birthday present today. Polly and Kim, two of my good friends, came over and planted petunia's in my porch box. There both huge K-State fans, and actually tried to get me red and blue plants, but the colors available were red and white. It was a sweet surprise from two good friends. I appreciated the smile, and especially seeing Kim's daughter Blair, whom I've spoiled often and puts a smile on my face every time I see her. Blair, out of the blue a couple of years ago, called Wes and I and wanted to spend the night. We loved that she did, and she came over and Wes and I had a blast babysitting her.

I'm finding I'm still tired from the radiation, and will be anxious to get a week out of treatments so the throat can heal. In that sense, I want time to move fast. Otherwise, time moves slow. It's still hard to believe I've been living with this for over 2 months. It's flown by, but it also goes slow.

Keep the prayers coming,
Much Love,
Julie

"Radiation is done..."

My 35 trips to radiation are done. I just wish the pain could turn off and stop just like the radiation treatments. When Wes and I first arrived, we were called from the lobby to the nurses station which alarmed me. I'd been battling some fatigue, and am really working to keep from getting dehydrated and I has no clue why I would go to the nurses station. Ends up Vicki, the nurse with the sweet, comforting voice, had three KU golf balls for me in a prescription bottle with the directions: 'Hit the heck out of the ball." It not only made my day, but made me smile. I needed a smile. I got hugs from all the lovely nurses. They liked the fact that for 35 days straight, I wore a KU shirt.

The pain from the radiation is miserable. Swallowing food or liquid is like turmoil on my throat. The Dr. told me the pain will last for about another week, but gave me a prescription for some different pain meds that can hopefully help with this incredible pain. I will be glad when I can get on a normal diet. Soft foods and liquids are very bland after a while.

I haven't been blogging much as I haven't had the energy. I hope and continue to pray that this journey is successful, and that the chemo and radiation are shrinking the tumors. Please continue to pray.

Much Love,
Julie

"2 months to the day..."

It's been two months since diagnosis. February 23, 2009 was my last day of "normalcy." While I think I've handle this quietly and in a shy manner, I've also first experienced the "anger" and "frustration" of being afflicted with this pervasive disease. I think the warm weather and my zany persona wants to run out the door, go jogging, ride my scooter, and smack the crap out of a golf ball. My mind wants to be active; my body tells me it's not possible. I must pace myself.

I've 7 radiations out of 35 left, and believe me you, am counting them down. The windpipe is getting extremely sore, I'm moving towards a softer diet and plenty of protein powder to sustain what weight I can. I'm cautious about going and buying jeans and shorts, as I anticipate putting back on some of the 30 pounds I've lost since October. Yea, I thought I had a great diet prior to diagnosis!!

We met with the Drs. today and as usual, they inform me we won't know anything until the scans that will occur at One and Four months after radiation is completed. I'm blessed that KUMC is attacking this so aggressively. Cathy Glennon, our guardian angel, accompanies us to each appt. It's an amazing honor to walk the halls with her and see how much respect, admiration and dedication she receives from every individual. We feel like royalty in her presence, and are blessed she pointed us down this road to fighting this disease.

I also am blessed with a bevy of wonderful drivers, exceptional friends and family, and a sister that my relationship blossoms more and more each day. Janie and I have always been close. I'm blessed to have a truly wonderful older sister. I will never forget how she has helped me. Wes is also strong, and without these people in my corner, it would be even more of a struggle.

Fatigue sets in, and I haven't blogged or been as active. I still appreciate all the prayers and kind words from everyone. Keep the faith...I sure am trying..and seeing some sunshine finally!!


Much Love,

Julie

"Sounds...and Silence..."

It's amazing how a day with nothing planned goes so slow. I watched some comedy shows, took two naps and watched a little golf. I did get in my car and just drive around for a bit just to get out of the house. It's amazing driving, knowing my life is abnormal with cancer, and seeing everyone else carry on their daily tasks. I'm hoping once chemo and radiation are over that the normalcy will slowly regain more of my cognition.

Tonight, after dark, I walked down to the bridge and creek that runs parallel to my house. It's amazing how I've never noticed the sounds of the creek before. It was a beautiful sound. I looked up at the star-less sky, said a little prayer, and just listened. It allowed a moment of solitude, and I'm thankful for each moment like it. It allows a mind to escape, and the more of those I can garner, the better.

I'm trying to gear up for the last 7 hour chemo, and while it will be difficult, I'll be glad to complete this round. I pray these tumors are shrinking. I'm blessed KUMC has such top notch employees, and are attacking this aggressively.

Wes and I are grateful for all the prayers and support.

Much Love,
Julie

"A countdown...and trying to feel normal..."

Well, I've 11 radiation appointments left and 1 mega 7-hour chemo left. I can't wait to get the final 7 hour chemo treatment over with. Those are miserable, and must be aided with sleep meds. The radiation treatments are a slice of heaven compared to the chemo, and the trip for radiation goes so much faster. They're also placing me an a strict anti-nausea regime next week to fight off any lingering nausea that may occur after the last round. I'm fortunate modern medicine has tools to combat the gnarly nausea that accompanies chemo.

I'm fighting the feeling of wanting to be normal. It's a weird dilemma. One one hand, I'm constantly tired, fatigued, and want to rest. On the other half, it's like it's spring time, and I feel like I should be out planting or golfing or riding my scooter tooling around scot free. It's amazing to watch others drive by and see their life as normal, whereas mine will never be normal again. I'm hoping after the last treatments that I'll have some semblance of normalcy resume. Time moves by so slow, ekeing by minute by minute. Sleep patterns, while better, are itermittent. The day moves so slow. I'll be anxious to get back to work and get into a routine.

I continue to praise all those praying for me and showering me with tokens of prayers, love and messages. It does inspire.

Much Love,
Julie

"2 chemos....and 12 radiations to go..."

Well, I guess were gearing for home plate as I have one 2-hour and one-7 hour chemo left. I've also 12 Radiation's left. I can tell the fatigue is setting in. It's like I'm constantly tired. It's amazing having to wait until the time to take the next meds. It's like an eternity, but I must adhere to the schedule I've worked out. I feel if I don't, the nausea may reappear.

I won't know anything until Mid-June, but I hope and pray these SOB's shrink. I'd like some medical luck on my side for once.

I hope and pray that the blessings I've received in life, both in the matters of prayers, support, gifts, religious tokens, love and friendship continue to help prod me along this road.

Much Love,
Julie

"3 chemo down, 3 to go..."

I've made it half way through my last (hopeful) chemo for a while. I've two 2 hour chemos left today and Friday, and a mega 7 hour blast on Monday. I dread the 7 hour treatments the most. Imagine me being chained up for over 7 hours. I'm just thankful they give me meds that allow me to fall asleep.

Radiation continues until mid-May. I won't have another PET or CT scan until mid-June, as they wait a good month for the medicine to see if it continues to shrink the tumors. I hope and pray it does.

I continue to be thankful and appreciate each and every prayer and blessing I'm fortunate to have.

Keep the prayers coming,
Much Love,
Julie

"Apprehension....and Family..."

The Easter Holiday has passed, and I had a great weekend with my family. Saturday our entire family was together in Falls City, Nebraska. Today, I had my sister's entire family here and we went to church and then they finished up tidying my mothers house to prepare it for sale. It was both a joyous and sad occasion in church, but I'm blessed to have the unconditional love of a tremendous family. I get so much joy out of my nieces, nephews and great nieces and nephews. My great nieces and nephews are still young, and they are the third generation of nieces and nephews, and I treasure each time I see all 6 great nieces and nephews. They truly bring the kid out and me. Seeing them has helped aid in the apprehension building for this final week of chemo.

Tomorrow is the 7 hour mega-day, and I've packed my bag with magazines, movies, my mp3 player and my iPhone. My sister, my role-model and best friend, will be with me which makes these long days much more tolerable. I've always been extremely close with Jane, and we are growing even closer. She and Wes have been such a phenomenal strength for me, and without them, I wouldn't have as much courage and enthusiasm. They are my number one cheerleaders.

I doubt I sleep much tonight, but that's okay. That means I'll be tired tomorrow and will hopefully sleep during most of the 7 hours of chemo. I usually try to stay awake for the first couple of hours, and then if I'm fortunate to nap for a couple of hours, it makes the time go faster. The 2 hour chemo's are much more tolerable, and go so much faster.

I'm hoping everyone had a lovely Easter with family, friends and loved ones.

Much Love,
Julie

"An Easter Dinner...and an apartment..."

Today my entire family ate dinner in Falls City, Nebraska at my niece Angela's home. It was a wonderful time to be surrounded by family. We also took some furniture to my mothers apartment, and her place looks cozy. I was pleased to see that my mother is happy and comfortable in her new apartment. She is adjusting well considering both our lives stopped on a dime and changed rapidly.

I'm a tad apprehensive about next weeks chemo. I have, starting on Monday, a 7 hour session, followed by Tuesday through Friday 2 hour sessions, and then the last session the following Monday, another 7 hour mega session. The 2 hour sessions are tolerable. The 7 hour sessions require medicine that pretty much knocks me out and allows me to sleep. I will be glad to get this week over. Reminder to friends: Send strong stomach tissue!

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday. I pray everyone is surrounded by family and friends and has a Blessed Easter!

Much Love,
Julie

"A Doctor visit....and GOLF..."

Today Wes and I went to my afternoon radiation appt, went and had bloodwork drawn, and met with our oncologist. She informed me my next round of chemo would be tougher, and that we need to tweak the nausea meds. That was good to hear. She also is having me take Sucralfate, a pill that you dissolve in water to aide in protecting the throat. Apparently the radiation and chemo will both be tough on that area next week, so she's having me do this daily. She also suggested I take my anti-nausea meds at night instead of in the morning. I explained the nausea as occcuring the worst when I first wake up, so she's tweaking some things, and will tweak them as well during next weeks chemo. Wes asked her about plans for the summer, and if I would be needing another round of chemo. She said they do not do any CT or PET scans until one month after my last radiation appointment (which should occur in mid-May), but she's hoping this will do it. I'm a little apprehensive about next weeks chemo, but I know I have to endure it. I just hope I'm able to sleep during both 7 hour sessions, and the 2 hour sessions.

After I mentioned that I hoped to get back on the golf course this summer, the Doctor mentioned I would be a good lung cancer patient to give a "quote" for their golf tournament. That made me feel good, and I said as I love to write, I would do whatever she asked.

Keep the prayers coming.

Much Love,
Julie

"The Pink Flamingo's and my Mother..."

“The Pink Flamingo’s and my Mother…”

Today I was able, puny and all, to make it to radiation. They think I must have caught a bug, as it’s too late for the type of nausea I had to be related to the chemo 8 days out. Regardless, I’m glad my stomach, while still a tiny inferno, is not afire like it was yesterday.

My dear friend Jenny Smith drove me to KU med today. Jenny, a former cheerleader, was her typical spirited self and reminded me that I need to continue to exhibit my “zany” persona. She reminded me of the “Pink Flamingo” incident, and it brought up many laughs. Two summers ago, my hairstylist friend Diana and I were shopping at Wal-Mart and found those ‘Pink Flamingos” in the bargain aisle. I thought it would be creative to start a chain and signature page, and go place them in our friends’ yards late at night. We decorated 4 flamingos up, attached a note with instructions that whomever received them had to adorn it with something, and move it to someone else’s yard within 24 hours.

We left spots for 20 signatures attached to each Flamingo, and the last signature was reserved for a return to the Blair front yard. My intentions at the end of the Flamingo escapade were to have a BBQ and everyone who had been graced by the flamingo yard art would come to our home for a “Flamingo Party.” Well, long story short, 3 of the 4 Flamingo’s found there way back to our house. It was amazing and the birds looked completely different, and were decorated with a variety of tokens and gawdy, tacky trinkets from each household. However, it was amazing and fun and unique to follow the trail of who had received the lovely Pink Flamingo’s in their front yard. It was one of my most unique ideas, and a fun conversation piece for a span of that summer. We never did have the BBQ, but that may be a new summer project for me again! Jenny simply reminded me that that creative soul still exists, and I need to keep my chin up. It was good, sound advice from a good friend.

I’m a little ambivalent tonight. I’ve been my mothers’ primary caretaker for the last 10 years. She’s moving tomorrow, her house is nearly empty, and, while I know this is best for her, I wasn’t prepared for her to move out of town. She’s needed assisted living for quite some time, and we were preparing to find her a place in Atchison. I’m going to be lost not looking in on her, running her errands, calling her multiple times daily and doing “honey-do” chores around the house. Fulfilling her needs allowed me to nurture someone. It fulfilled my need since I don’t have children, but still had the need to take care of someone. While my world was hectic, I still saw her daily and will miss her terribly. I hate seeing both of us having our lives changed in the span of about a month. I do know that Falls City, Nebraska has my brother and his wife, and my niece and her husband and my three great niece and nephews, and so “Grandma” is getting all kinds of attention from the little ones. That is wonderful and so necessary for her to experience right now, and I’m pleased that my great nieces and nephews adore her and will get to experience my mom’s perky spirit.

Hopefully, with a little luck, I won’t be as puny tomorrow, and will be able to go to KU “Beta Theta Pi” Moms weekend with my sis and nephew. Nothing could make me smile more than being around both “family” and “KU.”

Much Love,
Julie

"A short post..."

The nausea hit today like a freight train, and the hair started falling out a wee bit. I felt so bad, I couldn't make my appt. for radiation. Cross your fingers and say a little prayer that this subsides quickly.

Much Love,
Julie

"The Ultimate Grammy Collection..."

I need to mention I received in the mail an "Ultimate Grammy Collection" from an old high school teammate from my high school years. She graduated in 1978, and I in 1980, but Kathy Smith must still remember how I adore Soul Music. She sent me an awesome CD, which has Aretha, Otis, The Isley Brothers, Tina Turner, Gladys Knight and the Pips, Marvin Gaye, Natalie Cole, EW&F and of course Donna Summer and my favorite song The Emotions: The Best of My Love song on it. Thank you Kathy Smith, AHS class of 1978. You made my day!

Much Love,
Julie Blair

"The Curse of a 76, ergogenic aids, and music lyrics..."

“The Curse of a 76, ergogenic aids, and music lyrics…”

Sunday brought welcome sunshine and an opportunity for me to get out and about. I was glad to get in my car and simply go for a drive. I drove around town, and wound up at the Missouri River for several minutes. I remember when I was in my twenties, I use to water-ski on the Muddy Mo, and it drove my parents crazy with worry. I sat by the river today and the memory of water skiing on it during the early 80’s seemed like a few simple years ago. I was able to escape my dilemma for a few moments, and it was a slice of heaven.

I also have always used music as an “ergogenic” aid. It’s something that can put me in an excellent mood. While driving, I also heard a song from the 80’s era: The Emotions: “Best of My Love” I love that song, and that genre of music. I listened to the music and specifically, the opening line: “Doesn’t take much to make me happy, and make me smile.” As the song continued on, I thought about my plight, my attitude, my zeal and how I’m dealing with things. Yes, I’m pretty broken hearted over this, but I’ve got to regroup and bring my zany persona back. My attitude has always been one of the creative, happy-go-lucky, smile, and enjoy and live life to the fullest. I’ve got to remember the mantra I lived by pre-cancer must also coincide with my existence now. Fatigue affects me somewhat, but I am still Julie. I wouldn’t say I’m one in a million, but I would say I’m pretty unique. I’ll just fight this cancer as if I don’t have it. Roll with the punches, baby!!

Probably, the worst part about being diagnosed with Cancer is not the actual diagnosis. Well, I take that back. It’s pretty scary. But, truly, what infiltrates a bright and creative mind is the waiting game. It’s a long walk off a continuous, short pier. Life is truly second by second. Hours seem like an eternity. Days and moments and escapes like today help.

I had the unfortunate (or fortunate) luck of shooting two 76’s in golf during my last two outings last September. Those two scores, both witnessed by my husband and his friend, Mike vonSenden, have proved to be a terrible curse. I was so anxious for this golf season to get started, and start attacking my favorite pastime with a vengeance.

Each day when I go to the garage fridge to get a water or Diet Lipton Citrus Iced Tea, I see my crates of golf balls, tees, and all my golf gadgets. It kills me to walk by there and see all my new golf toys and gadgets. Seeing my clubs, my beautiful Ping’s, bagged up in the corner is equivalent to making a kid wait an extra day for Santa to arrive on Christmas morning. Those silly 76’s…..both a beauty for me, and a curse.
I’ll be glad when we get further into this venture, and I’ll at least be able to get out and chip and putt a wee bit!!

Much Love,
Julie

"Shades of the Past..."

We'll, the weather really threw a kink into this weekend.

Once you're diagnosed with Cancer, your entire thought processes are permeated with conquering the disease, battling the meds, and existing through chemo and radiation. Work is a slice of heaven compared to the mindless oasis of spending time in a home that was once normal, but now has shades of the unknown. This storm had Wes and I stir crazy for a while. We finally had to just leave and go for a ride. It was a pleasant ride through the snow, slush and muck!

My stomach is still terribly upset, but I've not had the nausea yet. It's like a hangover from hell. Only, I didn't drink a DROP!! I'll be glad when some of the meds get regulated. I also hope to catch up on sleep. I did take a couple of nice naps today. Ah...sleep....the most precious commodity.

Wes and I rented Milk tonight. I love documentary-true life movies, and found this fascinating. I also loved the real footage that was strewn in amidst the film. I don't think I'll make it through our second film: "Australia," but rather will wait for that tomorrow. I was at least able to sit through more of the movie than normal. Ever since diagnosis, I can't seem to concentrate through an entire movie or tv show. Yep, it's that ADD/ADHD gene I have! I love it though!

Make sure you tell someone who means the world to you that they indeed, do mean the world to you!
Much Love,
Julie

"Sleep...an important commodity market...and KU..."

“Sleep…My most important Commodity Market…”

I’ve talked about having lung cancer in two “Parts or Acts” so far. Act I is the actual diagnoses, and the fear and ever-present loathing of finding out information about it, and how severe it is. “Act II” is dealing with it in the primary stages of treatment.
Right now, I’d say I’m a little over a week into treatment, had some rough days of chemo, and am on the radiation swing right now. But, my most important commodity I’m concerned about has nothing to do with our current economy. IT’S SLEEP. Being on a plethora of meds, steroids, chemo, and all the other nausea meds make sleep a tough commodity to barter with. I’m constantly fatigued. It’s weird, because I’ve always thought I might have a slice of ADD or ADHD in me. I’ve had boundless energy as long as I can remember. Now, it’s like it’s a chore to complete tasks without “resting.” I’m constantly tired. I’m also trying to keep the house up as best as possible, keep up on some KU coursework, and stay tracked at school. It’s fatiguing, but t it’s also a huge diversion for a mind that’s a flutter and a twitter!

I’m blessed that I’m being treated at the KU Cancer Center. They’ve some top-notch researchers, doctors, nurses and employees there. I just wish I had Donald Trump and a helicopter to fly me down there instead of the hour-long commute and the hour trip home. I’m blessed I also have drivers that are willing to accommodate my late afternoon appointments and me. It’s such a disastrous feeling to “burden” anyone, but I’ve found out that friends will go to the ends of the earth for you. I’d do the same for any of my friends. Again, crisis brings out the good in humanity.

I had the best surprises today. First, my good friend Teri showed up to take me to my appointment with a beautiful bouquet of flowers, and a pan of brownies!! That perked me up. Then, Carrie, my dear friend who’s also our school secretary and coordinating my drivers, shows up to my house with a KU box addressed to me at school. It’s a funny story regarding a sweet little career counselor that showed up at AHS for a career fair. I informed her I was a mega KU fan, and had my room decorated with the crimson and blue fare, and that I liked to give out KU mementos to students. A week later, she had mailed me supplies to give my students. In thanking her, I also carbon-copied my gratitude and appreciation for what an advocate she was for KU to her superiors, and how wonderful an advocate she was to be promoting their college. We’ll, long story short, she happens to be married to one of my former students when I taught in a Centralia, Kansas! She had mailed me today some KU shirts to add to my daily apparel that I wear to each treatment, and a warm blanket. I only hope KU knows what true advocates they have promoting their entire existence…from medical for my current health standpoints, to academic, to athletic. It’s a top-notch university, and I’m blessed to be taking classes there right now as well.
Tomorrow is Friday, and I’m ready for the weekend. I realized I have not listened to the radio or watched television since the night the Oscars were on. I’m hoping to be able to stay awake during the KU game tomorrow. I still have not seen an entire KU game from start to finish since this journey started. I need to pull my inner Hawk strength up, fight the fatigue, and yell ROCK CHALK JAYHAWK and tap my toes three times. There’s no place like home!

Much Love,
Julie

"Send sleep vibes..."

Okay, today is a 7 hour chemo day. So, all together now, send Julie your "sleep vibes." While I can relax with the best of us, especially when watching golf on TV, being chained to an IV for 7 hours tends to make me want to run free. I've had to use positive imagery to last through MRI's and CAT scans, and while I do have a creative brain, 7 hours will be a long time. I've a radiation appt. at 7:30am, and then proceed to the cancer treatment center for "blasto" chemo shortly thereafter. Send all your "sleepy work vibes" towards Jules around 9:00am or 10:00am!! Just about the time you get your first sleepy tone at work, shoot it my way!! The first 7 hour treatment went so-so as I slept through about 4 hours of it.

I feel bad for Wes. It's one thing to endure such trying times. It's another thing to watch someone you love be so enthusiastic and strong, but yet feel and sense the worry in him. I'm also worried about my sister. She's been so strong and made so many trips up here, I worry about her constant commute. Wes and I think we're going to BAN her for a week or so in order to get her ducks in a row and her life back to normal in Wichita. My mother is now staying with my oldest brother in Falls City, Nebraska for a bit. While I was mom's caretaker, and my chores for her, with my frenetic and hectic lifestyle did move fast, I already miss taking care of her. She's coming back to stay with us next week to help me out when the chemo is over for a bit, and we're just doing radiation. It will be a mutual taking care of each other. We'll both be wobbling around the house! That will be a sight for laughing eyes!!

I can't say enough about how humanity opens up it's arms in a crisis. My husband and I are blessed to have tons of family and friends that bring food, supplies, whatever necessary. It makes me realize that friends and family are really the "gold" in what makes this world go round. I've received tons of food from friends, sore-throat products from my favorite tech nerdie at school (jen), and food from my golfing friends. I've had tons of people volunteer to drive to chemo/radiation appts. I get e-mails, books, magazines and texts from friends. It's amazing how little things really do put a smile on your face when life throws some adversity at you.

It would be easy to simply give up and sail through this battle. It's miserable. However, every time I do, I think of those that have had worse adversity, bigger battles, and tougher roads. While this road is no smooth sailing, I'm gonna give it the best shot I have. I have no choice but to. It's just gonna have a few choppy waters to traverse before I know how it will end. We hope the tumor shrinks. We hope the meds and radiation do what they're suppose to do. I'll keep perservering, because I know people have perservered through much worse.
Much Love,
Julie

"Imagine...needing an interpreter..."

Well, we're about 1 week into the process. The daily drive to KC seems long, but gets a little better each day. The Iatan powerplant really throws a kink into my day!!

Today I had an awakening of sorts. I had to meet with my radiation doc, as all patients do on Monday. All of the sudden, while we're waiting for the appt., I heard a nurse say: "We need an interpreter!!" Can you imagine how frightening it would be to have cancer and not speak English or understand what is happening? It's frightening enough. I can't imagine not speaking our native tongue and understanding what medicines and drugs are being used to combat this dreaded disease. Someone needed an interpreter to explain their cancer, and the nurses at the station were so sweet in trying to assist.

tomorrow is a 7 hour chemo day starting bright and early. eGads! I hope they give me something to sleep. The steroids and medicines tend to make one ancy.....and, can you imagine me chained up for 7 hours?

Again, I'm blessed with wonderful friends and family. They soothe the rough patches of life.
Much Love,
Julie

"One week down..."

Well, I"m a little tired today. We started on tuesday with 7 hours of chemo, followed by 4 more days of chem this week. I've had a total of 4 days of radiation. I don't know if it's a combination of the meds, the shedule, the driving or what, but I am fatigued.

I'm surrounded by family tonight, and am truly blessed. It's hard to keep a bright mind occupied and off the inievitable, but I'm trying my hardest.

Keep the prayers coming. We've got a good long road to go, and I'll give it a go!

Much Love,
Julie

"6 hours of sleep..."

Last night, I was able to go to sleep at 10:00pm. That was about the earliest I've gone to rest. I also slept until 4:00am, which was the latest. I have to admit, I snuck some Vicks NyQuill to add an extra hour of sleep, but who cares. I don't know how to wager or use a barometer of my fatigue levels, but I can tell I'm starting to get more tired. I'll have a break from the chemo coming up in a few days, and will only continue on with the radiation. I'm looking forward to that. THe 7 hour chemo days are about as much fun as chewing on tin foil.

Much Love,
Julie Blair

"Whew...I'm tired..."

This will be brief. I don't know if it's the steroids, the chemo, the nausea meds, the flushing of the 'pipes', the radiation, or what, but I'm drained. Please know I treasure, enjoy, and still need alll strong prayers.

Much Love,
Julie

KU won. I slept through the second half. Go figure!

"525,600 Minutes..."

“525,600 Minutes…”
I’m surrounded by my family tonight. I’ve seen two of my three niece/nephews on my sisters side of the family (still waiting to see the eldest, and my godson, Michael), and am awaiting to see my other two nieces and 6 great nieces/nephews on my brothers side of the family. Janie, Mark and Sarah are here tonight. I’ve not much to talk about. I’m a tad fatigued. However, my husband and I love theatre and show tunes, so, I’ll leave you with what is at least one of my favorite showtunes songs:

“Seasons of Love” from Rent…Never saw the performance, and the movie was just so-so, but I did buy the movie long ago. I love the soundtrack: So, I’ll leave my post today as my mantra for the day. I’m blessed my family and my friends are my rocks casting me up!


All:
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Six Hundred Minutes
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Moments so dear
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Six Hundred Minutes
How Do You Measure - Measure A Year?
In Daylights - In Sunsets
In Midnights - In Cups Of Coffee
In Inches - In Miles
In Laughter - In Strife

In - Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Six Hundred Minutes
How Do You Measure
A Year In The Life?

How About Love?
How About Love?
How About Love?
Measure In Love

Seasons of Love.
Seasons of Love.

Joanne:
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Six Hundred Minutes
Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Journeys To Plan

Five Hundred Twenty-Five Thousand
Six Hundred Minutes
How Do You Measure The Life
Of A Woman Or A Man

Collins:
In Truth That She Learned
Or In Times That He Cried
In Bridges He Burned
Or The Way That She Died

All:
It's Time Now - To Sing Out
Though The Story Never Ends
Let's Celebrate
Remember A Year In The Life Of Friends

Remember the Love
Remember the Love
Remember the Love
Measure In Love

Joanne:
Oh you got to you got to remember the love,
You know that love is a gift from up above
Share love, give love, spread love
Measure, measure your life in love.

ALL
Seasons Of Love(2x)

Joanne:
Measure your life, measure your life in love

"2nd blog of the day..."

My friend Geri, a counselor at AHS took me today. We had a great time. My niece, Sarah, my little guppie, my knucklebutt, my favorite child to devise nicknames, is en route, as well as my middle nephew Mark. It will put a huge smile on my face to see them. Children tend to make me smile. Whether it's any one of my 5 nieces or nephews, or 6 great nieces/nephews, a smile will be present. I can endure troubles with these children around..
Much Love,
Julie

"Morning Post..."

Today, I woke up at about 2:00am. Not bad to get about 5 hours of sleep. I took an early morning bath, aloe-vera'd up my chest, tried to curl my hair with my fancy CHI flat iron with one hand, in order to protect the port, and then sported on the 3rd of my multitude of KU shirts. I'm wondering if I should be wearing my KU hoodies now that it's cooler. The temperature changes in the treatment rooms. In the radiation room, I simply have to wear a gown. In the chemo drip room, you get cold and hot intermittently. The chemo room isn't bad on the 2-3 hour days, but on the 7-8 hours days, I tend to get skittish. It's a long time to pass, and I'm trying to figure out how to maintain stability in a room that lends to bringing chaos and fear. I'm still going to be consistent and wear one KU piece of apparel thorughtout this journey. I'm also taking with me an "Aunt Throw" I got from my nephews and nieces, Mike, Mark and Sarah at Christmas every single day. It's a good luck charm. I also take my rosary from Teri, and the Medal/Prayer to St. Peregrine from Donna, our tech director. I'll take anything to incite luck into this journey. I've got tons of people fighting for me, and my corner is crowded. I'm blessed by so many. I would return the favor in a heartbeat to each and everyone of them. I'm coming out swinging little by little, and hope to emerge somewhat victorious.
Love and Prayers,
Julie

"My mothers independence lost, as well as mine..."

“My mother’s independence lost, as well as mine…”

I remember a few years ago having a discussion with my mother regarding taking her driving privileges away from her. She was perfectly capable of driving, but at 82, we were being preventative. It took our entire family to complete the persuading, and the deed wasn’t completed until my husband, Wes, spoke with her. Since he wasn’t a biological child of hers, he carried some weight with some rational explanations as to why it was time to stop. We finally persuaded her to bow out gracefully, which she did.

I’m finding at 47 years old, I understand her disagreement and reasoning as to why she couldn’t continue. I’m temporarily at the mercy of my family and friends. I’ve also been the primary caretaker for my mother, and being the only child in town, did the majority of her chores. While my world is hectic with work, college and local board meetings, I still managed to get mothers chores done daily, albeit a tad bit quicker and with less visiting than I’d have liked to. She now faced another uprooting, and will probably have to move up to Falls City Nebraska with my oldest brother Dave and his family, as I simply can’t take the time to be caretaker for both her and concentrate on my health. It’s bittersweet. I don’t have children, and the chores and my responsibilities I fulfilled for her seeded my need to “parent” someone. I will miss her.

I’m finding I’m a bit more tired after 2 days of chemo and radiation. I think it’s more the meds than anything. I’m also on so many meds I’m confused. I could never be a street dealer, as I could never get all these silly names remembered. I am a true “right brain” creative type, and anything sequential or mathematical seeps right out of the top of the hair that will shortly be abandoning my head. I’m still searching for the perfect “doo rag.” I’m not a wig person, so will find myself some colorful, zany looking scarves and doo rags.

I still find every waiting room I’m in at both cancer centers, I’m always the youngest there. It makes me angry for a moment. Then, I realize the lovely children that are afflicted by this dreaded disease, and my world comes back to the law of averages. I’ve made it a lot longer than others. I’m not throwing in the towel, and will fight like a pit bull on steroids, but, I’m trying to be rational. I am in a world-class place.

I’m tired tonight, so will end with this snippet from one of my favorite songs of Diana Ross and the Supremes:

“Aint no mountain high enough”…..

I’ve said this is my personal Mt. Everest. I’ll keep climbing if you keep praying!

Much Love,
Julie

"Quick morning blog..."

Gloria Steinmum would be proud! I'm walking around sans make-up, sans bra, and as James Brown sings: "I feel good..." I've sported my second of some odd 33-35 KU shirts to wear today, and managed to take a bath with one hand wrapped in a wal-mart plastic baggie held out of the shower door to avoid making my IV port a sloppy mess. I'm getting my game face on, and I'm glad it's finally surfacing. My friend Carrie, who's also our school secretary, has been gracious and strong enough to work up a schedule of drivers for me is coming over in a wee bit. She's been a rock. My friend Diana gave me some aloe vera juice to drink to prepare my throat for the painful radiation side affects. My friend Jenny has called everyday, trying to enlist the spunk I'm known for. Donna, our tech savvy director for the district, gave me a "Prayer to St. Peregrine" medal. It will only leave my neck when they tell me to. I've wonderful friends. I'm missing listing some and what gifts and blessings they've bestowed upon me, but, as you well know, I haven't forgotten you...

Let's get this party started...I just hope to hold off the nausea for a while.....RALPH!!! is not my friend!!

Much Love,
Julie

"Part II, Act I..."

Radiation started at 12:00 noon, and was over before I knew it. I remember them opening my gown, and I simply stated: "I'm sure glad I don't have big hooters as that's less skin to go through to get to this lil sucker." It made them smile, and relaxed me. It was over before I knew what was going on. Vici, a wonderful nurse with the most tender, relaxing voice, gave me a little shamrock and rice crispy treat in a St. Paddy's day sack. That started the day off good! Personnel who work in the cancer field have so much compassion. I wonder if they truly know how they can soothe a soul with a smile and soft voice and caring eyes.

We then proceeded to the 8 hour chemo treatment in Westwood. I was a tad bit bummed driving by as there is a golf course directly across the street, and my obsessive golf soul would have rather been out there shaking the sticks. Birdie, Par, Bogey...Eagle...Yea, I start out with some doubles too...

Kizzy came in and gave us the info, then Sheri and another nurse came in and explained the schedule and protocol. Cathy Glennon, our guardian angel, came in and also answered questions. Yes, I'm gonna lose my hair!! UGH!! Oh well, I'll sport a colorful doo rag. I'm not a wig girl. I had to have a couple of hours of drip just to prepare my kidneys. After a few hours, about 4:00, I started to get restless. I asked for something to help me sleep. Funny, at that same exact time (Colorado time), my sister wasn't having the anxiety reaction, but was thinking about me. Another kindred spirit.

My nephew Mark's girlfriend Carrie, a darling soul, stopped by with her mother , Michele. They brought me some beautiful flowers. I showed her my "Aunt Throw" that Mike, Mark and Sarah had given me for Christmas. It's my good luck charm, and hasn't left my side since diagnosis. I sleep with it. It's my woogie!! :-) :-)

The next thing I knew, I woke up and it was 8:00, and I only had an our left. It flew by. Wes and I stopped at a burger king so he could eat, and I had had little bits of sustunance through the day. We normally stop at Platte City en route home to eat at Tanners every time we go to KC. This time, we stopped at the Platte City CVS pharmacy to get a good thermometer and some other supplies.

I'm glad the waiting game is on, and Act I of Part II of the chemo game has started. I've an IV port in my hand, and must be careful. I've also a ton of literature to read. My groggy mind doesn't think I can remember it all right now, so I'll preview it tomorrow.

I just pray this gnarly looking big birthmark mediastinum shrinks! I've got a great husband, a wonderful family, students I adore, and a golf game that's emerging. I gotta keep fighting. With all your prayers and support, I have a good chance. Any chance is good in my book.

Please, you all, just keep praying.

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"Cancer...Part II..."

“CANCER, PART II…”

Living with cancer for the first couple of weeks is reminiscent of the “tilt-a-whirl” you see at carnivals. Things are spinning constantly. Your home, your work, your life, your family, every aspect of your life is in disarray and in a constant state of turbulence. What’s ironic is I’ve been living with it since February 23 and unable to attack it with medicine. Part I of living with Cancer is over. The mind game will cease. Part II starts tomorrow.

Tomorrow is D-Day. I’m so apprehensive. I truly had a day today that was similar to what I would assume is living life with a severe case of ADD or ADHD. I couldn’t stay put, focus, concentrate or complete tasks. Both my mind and my body had to keep moving and occupied, and I fretted back and forth, here and there, up and down, and every which way but loose!!

What’s ironic is living with cancer prior to the treatments. It’s one thing to have the mind in chaos. Tomorrow, I’m assuming my body will endure chaos with the beginning of a medical regimen from hell. I’ve my first of 7 weeks of radiation treatment. I then proceed to the cancer center for the first of 5 straight days of chemo treatment. My cycle is 7 weeks of radiation, and then 5 days on, 2 off, 1 on, and 2 weeks off chemo. My Doctor is a lung cancer specialist. She flat out told me they’re going after these tumors aggressively. I liked that. To me, life pretty much has always been “all or nothing,” and I’m ready to saddle up and go for the ride. I’m blessed I’ve a cutting edge team, that science has advanced, and hopefully, a miracle will land in my lung.

I had a good friend, Jen drop by today with tons of ideas and products and food to take to the first chemo visit. I appreciated her advice, as she's been down this road before. I’m rational and optimistic about this first round, but also somewhat frightened. I’m grateful I’ve a bevy of friends, family and co-workers that are providing me inspiration right now. I do appreciate everyone.

Today, I really wanted to golf, but knew if I did, I’d get the fever, so I decided to go for a scooter ride instead. I’ve got the cutest little Schwinn 49cc scooter. It was a tad bit breezy, so I put on my birks, some Capri jeans my sis gave me, and one of my 33 KU shirts and was ready to ride like the wind. It took me over an hour to get the silly scooter started, as it has sat dormant in my garage all winter long. Once I finally got it going after flooding it repeatedly, I just took off. I went and visited the Roe’s, my former teaching peers and fellow KU fans. I then drove to my golf course and saw my dear friends Patty and Margie golfing. I took my lil scooter on the 16th cart path and had a quick visit. I showed them my new radiation tattoos, and told them I’m ready to get the show on the road so I can get back out there on the golf course with them.

I’ve talked about my raging KU fandom. I’ve approximately 33-35 KU shirts, sweatshirts, turtlenecks, hoodies, tee shirts and golf pullovers. I’ve decided I’m going to wear one each day of treatment during radiation. I’ve two new mantras in my life:

My sis gave me this one: “LIVE WELL, LOVE MUCH, LAUGH OFTEN”

My other mantra is: “KU PULLED OFF A MIRACLE LAST YEAR IN THE NCAA CHAMPIONSHIP, AND SO CAN THEIR NUMBER ONE FAN!”

Imagine….a different KU shirt for approximately 35 days. Yep, that’s my quirkiness right there in the crimson and blue.
Love and Prayers,
Julie

"Hmm...a better day..."

“Hmm…a better day…”

When cancer invades your body, your mind enters an entire new dimension. Tracking and normal everyday chores and routines are suddenly interrupted with worries, thoughts, fears and distractions. Weekends have been the toughest. It’s the “free time” aspect of it. School, while proving somewhat of a distraction, has also been tough to endure. Cancer also invades your psyche and never leaves.

I’ve had people tell me I’ll have “good days” and “bad days.” Well, so far, everyday pretty much sucked. There’s no such thing as a “good day” with cancer. I’d call today “more tolerable” than others. I woke up early, and then tried to take a nap. I then wrote a short blog. I had an opportunity to golf with my husband and his group, but politely declined and preferred to go to church. It’s tough to think about golf as I was finally shooting in the mid 70’s at the end of last season. I’m not going to be able to attack it fully for a while, so golfing today would have been futile. It’s still hard to watch it on the television because I’m so passionate about golf, but I’m in hopes I’ll be able to get out there sooner rather than later. I’m also a fair-weather golfer regarding the weather. If it’s cold, I’m a pansy and will wait until warmer weather.

I had an old college friend make a special trip down from St. Joe tonight. Teresa Flores is a physical therapist at Heartland Hospital up there. In the last year, we’ve been fortunate to get together several times and catch up. She surprised me with some fun gifts. She also made a darling, beautiful scrapbook full of pictures from our college years. It totally brought back some of the best memories of my life, and is a scrapbook I will treasure for a long time. It provided me a smile that I’ve needed since this nightmare started. If you’re on Facebook, I took a few photos and uploaded them. In looking at the pictures, it makes it seem like they were only taken yesterday. Time certainly does fly when you’re having fun, and we Catholic college girls did have fun!

I’ve noticed I’m getting tons of puzzles, crosswords and Sudoku books from friends to pass the time away in the chemo chair. Paul Giffin, a former counselor at my high school, loaded me up with KU odds and ends, and his care package was full of pizzazz. Gerre Martin, another counselor at AHS, also gave me the “Uncle Johns Bathroom Reader” book, and a Sudoku and logic problem book. Seems everyone knows I like puzzles and perplexing games that make the mind think. They will, indeed, help pass time during this rough first week.

It’s my spring break, and it behooves me that I will be starting cancer treatments instead of golfing this break. While I’m extremely apprehensive about starting both chemo and radiation at the same time, I’m also ready to get the show on the road. I did read a little bit on radiation today, and what to expect. I’m still holding off on educating myself about chemo and the effects. I know how my brain operates, and sometimes, in my case, the less informed, the better. I’ll read what I need to read, and filter and block out what I don’t want to know. It’s weird, but I can simply ignore some things. Just ask my husband…I ignore him quite a bit!! ☺

I’m having my nightly glass of wine while I blog, which helps me relax and sleep better. I’m still having haphazard sleep patterns, which is probably to be expected. I’m also feeling like the fatted calf in that my diet and caloric intake has increased greatly these past few days. I will admit the wine is probably the best, happiest calories I’ve ingested in the past few weeks. It’s soothing. Damn tasty too!

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"A Bellevue pool party, and a back flip..."

I'm finding I rest a lot in bed. I was just trying to nap, and was thinking about this upcoming summer.

As a member of Bellevue, I always organized "after hours" pool parties for my friends. Sometimes many people would come, sometimes just a few. But, I organized several pool parties complete with food, fun and beverage.

I remember one last year. We were talking about how agile little kids were and how they could do amazing things off the diving board. I told the story about how I always could do front/back flips, back dives and all the fun dives off the board when I was little.

On a dare, at 46 years old at one of my pool parties, I went and did a front flip, a back flip, a back dive, and a cut-away off the board.

Hell, I think I could just surprise myself these first 5 days of chemo!

"Stalemate, Amends, Bill Self, KU and Foreshadowing..."

“Stalemate, Amends, Bill Self, KU and Foreshadowing…”

As I stated previously, I have made an attempt in the last few months to become active in church again. I’ve also reconnected recently with one of my best friends from high school, with whom we’d grown apart. I also find it ironic that I made a new dear friend via e-mail, an old fashioned “pen-pal” type friendship. I’m processing these events and wonder if they were a type of foreshadowing of things to come, and where these situations fall into place in the map of my life. Regardless of the outcome of my story, I’m grateful that in the last couple of months, I’ve had these reasons to smile.

I’m a wee bit apprehensive about my upcoming treatments. 5 days of chemo in a row scares me. I think I can handle the radiation, but, chemo is just flat out frightening. I’m sure once I get in the chair, I’ll have no choice but to fight like a warrior.

It’s horrendous what a waiting game regarding your mortality does to a bright, creative mind.

I’m really surprised and amazed at myself at how I’ve handled this news. While there is no prescribed manner to emote or react, I’ve simply just been knocked out. I don’t know when the competitor in me, and the former feisty athlete is going to come out swinging. As an athlete, I always preferred the strategy of defense. I’d rather get a steal than score a basket. As a coach, I was notorious for getting technicals for yelling at the referees and fighting for my players. My husband always told the refs that they were the only ones who could make me “shut up” and settle down by slapping a “T” on me. I’ve fought for my special education students at school.

I’m waiting for me to start fighting for me. It’s not a pity-party, and I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I’m simply floored. I knew I probably would always get lung cancer due to starting at an early age, and with a family history of it, the odds were against me. I simply didn’t think I’d be 47 years old when the devastating news altered my world. I think I’m more discouraged at myself for not having the discipline to stop the many times I’ve tried. Would of, could of, should of!!

It’s a terrible feeling knowing that my story makes others ache for me. It’s awful to see heartbreak in others. I’m in a stalemate with life right now, and it’s like I’m asea in unknown, unchartered waters. I hate what it’s doing to my husband. He’s trying to be so positive, so upbeat, so clever and fun. I try my best to paint a happy face, but it’s not me. I’ve always loved life tremendously. I’m a huge free spirit that lives in Capri’s and Birkenstocks. I’ve 33 KU shirts. I’ve 12 pairs of birks, dozens upon dozens of golf shirts, and 3 closets full of colorful clothes. I love funky things. I hate socks in the summer. I love to ride my scooter and take off to nowhere. I call what I have the 24th zany chromosome, and I definitely have it. However, it’s sunk somewhere, and I’m trying to pull it up. I pray for everyone that something like this never affects you because it truly is a kick in the gut that knocks the wind right out of you.
I received in the mail today a card from the Kansas Men’s Basketball Office. It was from Bill Self, coach of my beloved Jayhawks. It stated:

“Dear Julie,
Just a note to let you know we are thinking of you at this difficult time. We know you are a great Jayhawk fan and appreciate your loyalty throughout the years. All of us in the basketball office are sending our best wishes and want you to keep cheering for us. We will be cheering for you!”
Rock Chalk Jayhawk,

Bill Self

That is the tip of what I hope brings out my spirit and fight.

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"A handicap placard, an athlete, and Nancy..."

“A handicap placard, an athlete, and Nancy…”

Today I was somewhat efficient at work. We had to have grades verified as the quarter is over, and I successfully managed to complete that task. I was pleased that spring break actually started today, and no students were present as it was a teacher workday. Seeing my students is especially difficult right now. Since I’ve no children of my own, I oftentimes think I probably have a different type of energy regarding starting my day at school, as I don’t have them at home to deal with. Not to say that those who have children have less energy, but I oftentimes think I’m blessed I don’t have them 24/7.

I’m also slowly getting into a take-charge stage. I realized that the chemo and radiation are going to drastically affect my energy levels, so I called my local Doctor and asked for a “handicap placard.” I had to get one several months ago for my mother. My mother is 84, and that equated to the typical stages of her life, and was normal for her aging process.

As a relatively healthy, {insert oxy-moronic humor there…..} and active 47 year old, getting a handicap placard for myself was absolutely bizarre. I’ve always been extremely athletic, could pretty much pick up any sport I tried, and even managed to play college basketball, volleyball and softball. Golf is now the sport I’m obsessed with, and I’m just getting to where I’m pretty decent at it. To think that my activity levels are going to change is mind- boggling. Instead of spending this next week of spring break golfing, I’ll be spending my time in Kansas City fighting like a little pit bull. It’s my own journey to conquer my own internal Mt. Everest. I’ve got a mountain to climb, and I hope to place a little victory flag atop it, or at least get through all the base camps at different intervals.

I received a lovely card today from the mother of one of my high school friends, Nancy. Nancy’s sister is also married to the brother of Cathy Glennon, one of my two guardian angels (along with my sister, Janie) who pointed me down the road to treating this cancer. Nancy had a TBI several years ago, and I found her mother's note very inspiring and insightful, and full of advice and hope. It’s unfortunate that life throws us curve balls, but, while humankind is beautiful, it’s also cursed with sadness. We all have our own journeys and crosses to bear. It is unfair.

I’ve been blessed that I have so many people rooting, praying and thinking about me. I’ve never liked to be the center of attention or the belle of the ball, but in receiving this bad news, I'm genuinely appreciative and respectful of the masses who have expressed hope and prayers for me. It comforts a mind that's racing and darting about. I’m truly blessed.

My husband comes home tonight after midnight from his business trip. I’m looking forward to seeing him.

Make sure you take the time to stop, reflect, appreciate and absorb life. It changes in a nano-second.

Much Love,
Julie

Forrest Gump: "I just felt like running..."

I just received a call from Kizzy. I start radiation at 12:00 noon on Tuesday, March 17th. I then proceed to the cancer center for my first chemo visit. She informed me it will take about 7 hours total on Tuesday, the first visit, and it will start about 1:30, after radiation. I then have 5 straight days of chemo, Tuesday through Saturday. I sure wish I was a heavy drinker about now and had a cast iron stomach!

My schedule will be 7 straight weeks of radiation Monday-Friday. Chemo on days 1-5, and then day 8. I will then have 2 weeks off chemo, but still the radiation, and then the schedule starts again.

Note to friends and family: Send strong stomach tissue! :-)

I feel like Forrest Gump when he said: "I just felt like running"

"An old friend, and a Rosary from a stranger..."

“An old friend, and a Rosary from a stranger…”

Tonight I went over to visit my sister and my mother for dinner. I’m finding I treasure every moment with family members and savor every word. It’s tough trying to maintain a conversation when your mind is preoccupied with an urgency regarding your future.

My husband is out of town attending a business meeting in Destin, Florida, and I’m glad he had an opportunity to get away, attend meetings, and get some rounds of golf in. He has been a rock through this journey, and without him, my wonderful sister, and tremendous friends, I could have easily burrowed into a hole and hid.

As I approach my impending radiation and chemotherapy, I’m bombarded with questions for myself. I find that I’m trying to avoid thinking about the results, the effects or anything related to my upcoming journey. I still haven’t googled a single thing regarding the chemo drugs I’ll be on, the effects of radiation, and anything regarding lung cancer and statistics. I’ve garnered what information I need to know from the Doctors, the Nurses and the few friends I’ve seeked advice from. I need to remember what the lovely school nurse at AHS, Janelle Carrigan told me: ‘This story is 100% yours” so disregard any information or statistics. Those of you who know me well know I’m a unique, goofy individual. I don’t know how things will evolve, but am hoping and praying my results are as pleasant, goofy and unique as I am. It would be a wonderful coordination and sweet surprise that’s par for the course for my existence!

A very dear friend of mine stopped by tonight. Teri Ramsey and I have been friends for over 30 years. She works at a funeral home in St. Joe and has been following my blog. She brought me a KU rock, an Angel of Hope, gifts from she and her sister, and the most special gift, a Rosary. What’s amazing is she had printed off my blog at work and a co-worker, Judy, happened upon it. I don’t know Judy. However, this tremendous woman read my blog and then excused herself. She returned and handed Teri a Medugorje Rosary to give to me. I felt blessed a complete stranger provided me with such a token of love and hope. When your life is in upheaval, your mind distressed, your body weak and your heart is broken, the smallest tokens provide smiles and happy thoughts.

I’ll end this blog with a sincere “Thank You” to all who have sent gifts, cards, plants, flowers ,food, gifts, e-mails, texts and Facebook messages. You know how much I appreciate and love each and everyone of you. At some point, you know I will reciprocate.
Love and Prayers,
Julie

"A popped IV, and The 8th Wonder of the World..."

“A popped IV, and the 8th wonder of the world”

Today was the day that they did the mapping, or simulation of the radiation treatment. The 8th wonder of the world, also known as my sister, Janie, accompanied me to the RAD/ONC center today at KU Med. I still have a tough time processing just a year ago everyone in my family who treaded those hallowed KUMC grounds was excited to see my nephew Michael flourish in his medical schooling. Now, we’re there for a life-altering situation. It creates the oddest sensation.

Once I got there, they started an IV and then I sat in the patient waiting room until a young man named Seth, and his med school trainee, Gabby came to get me. I plopped down on the table and they ran me through the CAT scan. They monitor your breathing, and I just simply started counting and controlling my breathing so it would be consistent. I remember looking at the top of the donut shaped monstrosity of a machine I was in the midst of, thinking how fabulous science was. That’s the science nerd in me that allows me to divert my attention away from my situation and process other information as a distraction. I had to lie prone on my back, with my hands gripping two bars above my head. Just imagine lying in bed, and having to have your hands touch the wall behind you. After a brief bit under the whirling motor, they yanked me back out of the giant “cheerio” and put dots under both armpits and on my sternum.

When you’re being mapped, you must remain still. I am still amazed how poised and calm I’ve been through all these tests. At any rate, when they put me back in and administered the IV dye, the motor started again. All of the sudden, I felt gooey, wet stuff on my left hand. My IV popped out, and all the liquid oozed down my hands. With a sense of urgency, I pondered if I should raise my head and tell them, as I never experienced the metallic taste that accompanies these tests, nor felt the warmth through my body. I wondered if this IV popping out would affect their tests and simulation. I finally, after a few seconds, decided to tell them and simply raised my head and said: “My IV popped out.” The radiation student Gabby came out and said the Doctor had seen what he needed to see, wiped up the messy goo, and told me we were almost through. She then proceeded to start marking me with the ink. I asked her if it was like acupuncture and she replied she didn’t know, but would assume so.

I’m finding I’m making myself get out of my house more often. At first, I just wanted to crawl into a hole and make this bad episode of a nightmare disappear. I had a board meeting at my local country club tonight and hadn’t planned to attend. However, about ten minutes prior to the meeting, I decided I needed to make myself go. I’m extremely passionate about golf; it’s my summer therapy. I had a tough time at first walking into the meeting. My dear friend and summer golfing partner Patty Flynn is our bookkeeper at the club, and it was difficult seeing her. I also had a tough time seeing Kathy, another golfing partner and board member. I was surprised I lasted as long as I could during the meeting. I sat through the entire meeting, gave input when I could, and avoided even talking about my situation until the end. Once I gave Patty my update, I suddenly found myself back in my nightmare, and exited the meeting early.

I start Radiation on Tuesday, March 17th, and am unsure when the chemo will begin, but will find that out in the next day or so. The sweetest oncology nurse, Vici, reminded me to wear my green that day. She has the most tender, sweet voice that reassures my frightened soul. When life gives you news that creates doubt and confusion regarding your future, you find comfort in the smallest, strangest things. It’s a different aspect towards life. I’ve always treasured life, and counted my blessings. Nowadays, I continue to see the positives and blessings in life. I just tend to cherish and ponder things a little longer.

I'm blessed I have tons of friends and family reaching out for me. It's helping me to stand tall again.

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"Two weeks ago today..."

“Two weeks ago today…”

Two weeks ago today, my world turned upside down. I vividly remember getting the phone call in my classroom. I repeated to the nurse on the line what she just informed me: "I needed to come up as soon as possible after school." I'm positive the fear was present in my face, and I saw my students and paraprofessionals faces as they watched my mind immediately begin processing and knowing that the news had to be bad or else there wouldn’t be such urgency.

The drive up to the Drs. Office took forever, and I remember debating on whether I should call my husband or not. I decided not to. I also was texting a friend, asking her to pray as I waited in the patient room. I was in the patient room all of maybe 3-5 minutes. When the Doctor pulled the chair up next to me, in close proximity, I remember saying: “It’s not good, is it?’ I remember the compassion in his face when he told me it was not. He explained a few things about the biggest tumor, and then sent me down the road to see the pulmonologist. I do remember asking him if I could call my husband. I simply told Wes “You need to come up to the Doctors office right now.”

Today, I was at the Doctors office at the exact same time as I was two weeks ago, and I thought to myself how time has changed in these two weeks. On a physical front, time has left my sleeping habits in disarray, my eating habits almost non-existent, and my motor skills a tad bit slower, as if I’m in a daze. On a mental front, time ekes by so slowly. I find it tough to be able to complete my KU college coursework, which, as someone who has always loved to write, is tough to process. Usually, I can whip out an assignment rather quickly once I get my organization outline processed, and pinpoint and sequence what I want to write and how I would organize my paper. Now, it takes longer. I’m working very hard to complete as much KU coursework as possible, as I know once the radiation and chemo begin, my fatigue levels are going to change.

Time also stands still in a sense when your world flips. I find myself taking the long way to work. I’ve always been a “fly by the seat of my pants, fast moving train” persona. Now, it makes me giggle out loud to see how patient of a driver I’ve become by accident of diagnosis of cancer. I’m moving in slow motion and want time to stand still. I’ve decided I’m a better driver now that I have cancer. Before diagnosis, I might have darted out in traffic if a car was of some distance from me. Now, I patiently wait for them to pass, and then go on my way. Cancer makes me a better driver. I move slower, more cautious and am alert to my surroundings.

It’s weird what dealing with a disease that affects your mortality does to you. On one hand, you become very reflective and introspective. You see the silver lining in life. You rationalize, empathize and equate things in a total different manner. You also question “Why?” What allowed this horrible curse to inflict my body so pervasively? Did I deserve it for smoking? Did my family history have anything to do with this? Can the medicines buy me more time? Will the daddy of all nodules shrink? Where's this going to end up? The questions bombard my inquisitive mind. It’s amazing the introspection that coincides with news like this. I’m still waiting to wake up from this nightmare. I’m feeling fleeting moments of normalcy, but more and more, I know the waters are going to get even choppier with medicine. I pray and hope I’m strong enough and youthful enough to battle all the wonderful new medicine they're armed to help me with. They're going to be aggressive, and I'll have to pull up my former college-athlete competitiveness too. Game on, Wayne...Game on, Garth...

Perform a random act of kindness today.

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"A woman of few words..."

"Crap..."

C'mon....that's a funny entry!! :-)

"A tough Mass, Stevie, and siblings..."

“A tough Mass, Stevie, and siblings…”

In the last three months, I’ve felt a void in my life. I returned to church, faithfully starting in early December. I never missed a week until my husband took me away to the Elms last weekend. I am a Catholic, and a prayerful individual, and very spiritual. I’ve had a few friends and family help prompt my way back to church, and I’m thankful that I’ve made the effort over the last several months. As one friend said: “Church is a good port in a storm.” While I’m not sure what type of storm is forecast, I find myself with an inner peace that I’ve made attempts to renew my faith. Mass today was very difficult, but also somewhat soothing.

Right now, I’m overwhelmed with all the thoughts, prayers, well wishes, hugs, smiles and all the gestures that have been bestowed upon me. While receiving news regarding cancer is devastating and nearly debilitating, it’s also presented itself with a comfort in that people express their heartfelt sorrow, enthusiasm, prayers, wishes and positive thoughts endlessly. It’s a blessing to know how much you mean to people. One person, in particular, is someone I’ve never met. His name is Stevie, and he’s one of my niece Sarah’s best friends. He’s enduring some rough waters in his own life, and I find it amazing that a teenager, who has a full platter regarding his mother’s health, is e-mailing me inspiration and hope. It makes me think of that saying: “Six degrees of separation..” Friends of friends or friends of family that inspire and pray for you truly adds comfort in the midst of turbulent times.

I saw my oldest brother Dave and his wife Martha today. It’s the first time I’ve seen them since the news. It was not easy, but hugs were huge, warm and comforting. I’ll end this brief blog with what my brother Tom reminded me of: He said many people go off to fight wars, and many come home stronger from the journey. I hope that’s true.

I’ve a wonderful family. I’ve a sister that I’ve always been very close to, and am growing even closer through this journey. Family and friends are a blessing in tough times, and I’m blessed to have such supportive family and friends.

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"Normalcy..."

Tonight, my husband and mother-in-law went to my nieces wedding. I went over to my mothers house and had pizza with my mom and brother, Tom. I was surprised I had an appetite. I ate 4 pieces of pizza, 2 cookies and a big glass of milk. I'll admit in the last few weeks since being diagnosed, food has been repulsive, and I've lost a few pounds. I'm getting an appetite back, and I'm not sure if it's my plan of trying to help prepare my body for the chemo and radiation, or nervous eating. I almost have a gut ache I ate so much.

I had an hour of solitude at home after I left moms house as Wes and Geri (my mother-in-law), went to the wedding. I had time to reflect, looked up some of my KU coursework, and life was typical for a few, brief moments. It was a wonderful feeling. Even as I type this now, it's a simulation of my normal routine..being on the computer either doing KU coursework, listening to music, or playing on Facebook. It's a temporary feeling of normalcy, and I like it. I wish it was going to be permanent.

I know I'll go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow, still harboring the fears of having lung cancer. I keep trying to tell myself they can shrink the tumors, that medicine is progressing, and I'm such an odd, unique person that my case will indeed, be different. I've got a world renowned specialist spearheading the chemo. I've a good radiologist. I've got a team that's cutting edge, and I need to remember those "facts." I had a friend tell me to avoid reading the statistics of any type of cancer, as my story is 100% mine. I need to focus and keep those words in my mind at all times.

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"Second by Second..."

My lovely husband termed this the best: "It doesn't go away." You go to bed with it at night, you wake up with it, and it is omniscient in our narrative of life right now. I had a beautiful surprise when I arrived home from KUMC yesterday--A beautiful poster made by the students at school hanging in the entryway to my kitchen. I'm known around the building to be a super KU fan, and of course the colorful Jayhawk and praying hands were very symbolic and meaningful to me.

I'm so glad Wes has his mother here with him right now. She's provided wonderful conversation and a great support to us both. Her granddaughter is getting married today, and I'm grateful they will have a diversion of happiness.

I've found comfort in talking about and channeling what information I seek. I've talked to several cancer survivors and take pleasure in hearing their inspirational stories. I wish this was a nightmare I could soon wake up from, but with one look at the bloodwork bruises I know the bruises do not lie.

I've found myself driving around to places that present solitude to me. The Missouri River has been a place I can garner some peace. I've also sat in the parking lot of my local country club several times looking at the golf course and reflecting. It's as if I'm searching for a safe haven. I'm unsure of my future, and am living not minute by minute, hour by hour or day by day, but rather second by second. It's tough what happens to the mind. I'm struggling with knowing I've always been a pretty funny, spontaneous and zany character that had the most tremendous zeal and zest for life. I'm struggling with the sadness that I'm not only processing, but what it's presenting to others. I've always hated to see others suffer and I truly hate that I'm the culprit of these loved ones suffering. It's an endless cycle.

Preoccupation is a good thing. I've pretty much painted the inside of my entire house in the past, as my husband hates to paint. We've had to have some construction done on my bathroom in the last week, and when I woke up this morning, my husband had already painted it. Oh the things I'll do to make him paint!! :-)

Keep the prayers and strength coming. I'll bounce back soon. Yea, you'll see the feisty lil Jules real soon. It's just gonna take a wee bit.

Love and Prayers,
Julie

"A crystal ball, The Golf Channel, and medical advice from my niece and nephew..."

“A crystal ball, The Golf Channel, and medical advice from my nephew and niece”

Each day of this journey seems painstakingly tougher and tougher. Today I met with the radiation doctors, a social worker, and two nurses. It was a three-hour appointment that seemed like a blur. I’m normally very organized professionally, and if I were a caretaker of someone enduring this, I’d be one efficient machine, fully charged and ready to take the reigns of care for a loved one. However, since the tables are turned, I’ve noticed my organizational skills slipping, and even every day chores are tough to accomplish. I do catch myself at times doing chores as if my life is normal, and then I realize it’s my preoccupation that’s making me perform them.

I’m unsure of how fast things are going to happen. When your world is rocked like this, time manifests itself differently. In some instances, it moves at a snails pace. Then, suddenly, it’s a blur and you wonder where the time went. I find myself reflecting on the past almost constantly. Songs on the radio can tend to spur memories of years ago that seemed like yesterday. Each faded memory is also accompanied with a charge of “What if I wasn’t smoking back then?” Would it have made a difference? I’m having a tough time forgiving myself for smoking, and re-starting 10 years ago when I had fully quit for 18 weeks. I wouldn’t say it was a valid reason for why I started to smoke again, but it was what allowed me to cope during a failed pregnancy during that time. Oh, if I would have not turned into that Quik Shop. I guess there is a reason why the quote “Let sleeping dogs lie” or “Water under the bridge” exist….To soothe the soul.

The appointment at KU Med Center gave me conflicting emotions. On one hand, I’m in a confused, emotional and melancholy state, but ready to jump on the table and start this venture. I’ve intermittent internal drive. I hope the competitor in me evolves soon. The other emotion that surfaced at the med center today involved my nephew, Michael. For the last two years, he was strolling through these same hallowed halls as a second year med student at KUMC. My husband and I took him to dinner on several occasions. I thought to myself how he walked these hallowed grounds as a prospective future doctor, full of knowledge, drive and determination and en route to a phenomenal career. I thought it was a strange twist for family members to circulate the same territories, albeit for different reasons. I did come to the conclusion that he left there happy, healthy and moving onward in his medical career, and I hope to have the same success. I did have the privilege to call him and ask him and his wife, a brilliant pharmacist, about some medications and potential conflicts. I’ve received the information from all the doctors and pharmacists, but find myself double and triple checking any information I receive to ensure I'm processing it. I understand, but need reinforcement. I don't like the temporary feeling of insecurity, but I felt honored to ask them both for advice.

I found it bizarre that I’m asking for help and sedation to walk me through these initial stages. I’ve always been a very enthusiastic person, and carried a passion, zest and unwavering youthful outlook towards life. I’m questioning that now, and know that things in my life are not normal, and a little bit of help certainly can’t hurt. I hope part of the process of dealing with the cancer will allow me to resume my fun, quirky persona, and I’m hoping that I at least get glimpses of it soon.

I’ve recognized the barometer for how I exist. I’m very passionate about KU basketball and golf. My husband had the golf channel on tonight, and I couldn’t stand to watch it. That is not normal for my overzealous golfing soul. I also have missed the last three KU games….Unheard of!! I’m hoping this fog will soon lift, and I can get on the road to fighting this devastating disease called Cancer. I know I’ve some rough and choppy waters ahead, and my spontaneous and impatient, move like a freight train persona is ready to start rolling and begin the fight. I only wish a crystal ball could give me a glimpse into what this road entails.

Call someone who means a lot to you and let them know it.
Love and Prayers,
Julie

"A doo rag, a golf course, and a swimming pool..."

“A doo rag, a golf course, and a swimming pool…”

We’ll, if I had to measure tough days at work, today would rank as the toughest. I had asked advice from the high school counselors how to deal with this situation regarding my special ed students, and they advised me to be honest with them. I have always lectured my students to avoid smoking and have told them I regretted starting. I also had told them I could be susceptible to lung cancer. That’s a premonition I wish I didn’t have!! My students knew something was going on, and I simply told them I had some health issues regarding lung cancer, was prepared to fight it with all the radiation and chemo necessary, and that there may be some structure changes regarding substitutes. I’m blessed I have a wonderful department that has really provided comfort and helped guide me along as I tried to maintain my professional focus while struggling internally with the cancer. They’ve been a wonderful support and I’m fortunate.
I received a call from Dr. Kelly today regarding the plan of attack, and unfortunately was deescalating a situation with a student that had a major anger issue. How bizarre of me to miss the call when dealing with what a student deemed an emergency. I did call my Doctor back, and then called her second-in-command, Kizzy to confirm what my confused mind just processed from Dr. Kelly. I found peace in Kizzy’s salutation at the end of her voicemail: “Have a blessed day!” Strange how little sayings and snippets create calm. At any rate, I now have my facts straight and am comprehending my plan of attack better. I am feeling the fight in me start to evolve. I don’t think I’ve shown anger yet, and I’m not sure when to expect it.
Every day since I’ve found out I have this pervasive, gnarly curse they call “cancer” I’ve taken the long route to work, and driven by the Missouri River daily. It’s a slice of serenity in a world of chaos. I also drove to my golf course and just sat in the parking lot this evening. As a board member of the club, I’ve always volunteered to paint the pool every summer. I looked at the pool that I painted with such pride and perfection and thought: “If I can be a perfectionist and paint this silly pool with such fastidious care, I can surely dig up the same perfectionism and effort regarding my future.” I’m still rational and understand what I’m facing. I’m also in hopes I’m regaining my zeal, my zest for life, my feistiness and my enthusiasm that has never failed me. I sure pray to our Good Lord that he chooses the path that is correct for me.
I’m channeling and selecting what information regarding lung cancer I process. I have reached out to those that can inform me what to expect regarding the chemo and radiation. I’ve been told I may lose my hair. I also was told I may need to use some lotion on my chest. I think if I do lose my hair, I’m more of a “doo rag” person as opposed to a wig. I just don’t see me wearing a wig, but rather a ball cap or “doo rag!” Now that’s a fun word: DOO RAG!!
I visited my mother tonight. It was a pleasant conversation. One thing she told me, which rested my tormented soul was: “Do not beat yourself up over smoking. It could have simply been family genes!” That eased my heartbroken soul.
Love and Prayers,
Julie

"A complicated puzzle.. and a scooter ride"

A complicated puzzle…and a scooter ride

Today had to be the slowest day of my life. The apprehension in waiting for news regarding your mortality is absolutely horrendous. Once we got to the KU Cancer Center, I could tell my heart rate was increasing, but somehow I was able to trudge through the formalities of signing in and filling out paperwork. It amazed me and I commented to my husband, sister and mother-in-law that I think I was probably the youngest person in there. I did see some people that looked a similar age, but I still felt too young to be sitting in the waiting room. What's amazing is when you're in a waiting room at a Cancer center, your story is no different than every other person in that room.
I was a little preoccupied and had to go "walkabout" several times. As a connoisseur of knowledge my entire life, I found myself in the "Brandmeyer Patient Resource Center." This was an amazing library adjacent to the waiting room that had information and literature on every kind of cancer imaginable. I was impressed, and the teacher in me was so complimentary and amazed at how impressive this library was. What a tremendous asset this is in assisting those of us stricken with this dreaded disease and understanding this fog called "Cancer."
When they called my name, I felt like it was a slow-motion march to the patient room. Once Dr. Karen Kelly arrived, we were pleased at the warm presence she exhibited, and were anxious for the news. She showed us the information from all the scans on the computer, and told us which "red" hot spots to look for. She informed us it is technically "Stage IV" but we have several options and she's aggressively going to attack this. Looking at the computer reminded me of those “Lite Brite” toys we had as children. It was colorful. I did see the “hot spots” and know what needs to be attacked. I’m fortunate this Doctor has an aggressive plan of action, and I’m ready to start this venture. I told her to lay down the hoops and I would not only jump through them, but be a “fun” study as well.
The ball is rolling, and I’ve my first radiation appointment Friday to find out the first course of action. Radiation and Chemo will both be utilized as of now, but I’ll know more on Friday. I’m just ready to get the ball rolling. I’ve felt suffocated in traffic, in parking garages and on Rainbow Boulevard. I’m slowly feeling less stressed and less claustrophobic now that I know what I’m dealing with.
When I got home, the first thing I saw in my garage was my Schwinn scooter. I so wanted to hop on it, go for a ride, and let my hair fly. I can’t wait until spring when the weather warms up and I can hop on my freedom ride and let my worries go. Or smack the shit out of a golfball.
Love and Prayers
Julie

"Bummer of a birthmark, Hal....."

Today was quite an adventure.  We arrived at KU about noon and made our way to get blood work done.  We then ventured off into Magnetic Resonance Imaging, or MRI.  Oh...My....Goodness...I'd never had an MRI, but have heard about them and seen them on television.  Claustrophobic.  Can I say that again?  CLAUSTROPHOBIC.  I knew how important it was to be able to get information, so I exhibited some mind-control comparable to what Tiger Woods can do on a golf course.  I simply closed my eyes once it started, and went through the alphabet trying to recite words that started with each letter.  Once I completed that and still wasn't finished, I then went golfing at my home course.  It proved very therapeutic.  I went hole by hole, selecting each club with each shot, and golfed a really good round.  Peaceful.   I highly suggest this kind of imagery if you've ever to endure such tests.  It was then off to a PET scan or Positron Emission Tomography.  It's weird having all these tests, and I almost feel like it's an out of body experience.  I suppose that's just part of processing what I'm enduring.

Tomorrow we meet with the Oncologist.  I'm not sure what emotion to have right now.  I don't want to get myself up with high hopes, but I also don't want to deny myself a chance.  It's a flatlined feeling.  At any rate, I'll be glad when tomorrow is over as I'll have somewhat of a game plan.  I've always been organized professionally (not so much in my home ...) and will have a huge sigh of relief when the facts are out and all my cards are on the table.  We met my sisters best friend, Cathy Glennon at her office, and now know where to go tomorrow.  Cathy has a full platter herself these days, and I'm also reciprocating prayers for her.  

I'm not coughing as much, which is good.  That tends to be frightening.  I'm eating tons of cough drops and chewing nicorette gum like a street walker.  I'm amazed I don't have cravings for cigarettes.  I've never smoked more than a pack a day, and am finding this a tad bit easier to avoid those nasty things.  The one thing I will say is that with this "Bummer of a Birthmark Hal" news, I've many friends that are now re-evaluating and trying to quit.  Education, at my expense, is not the best thing, but I'm glad for it for my friends sake.  {Just google "bummer of a birthmark, Hal" to find a hilarious Gary Larson cartoon.}

I'm grateful for my husband and sister.  While my strength is wavering and experiencing highs and lows, they've been there through this journey and I'm truly blessed.  My family means the world to me.

Tell those near and dear to you how much you love them.

Love and Prayers

Julie

Silly String Wars...

The Doctor today confirmed what I thought all along, and had prepared myself for. The dreaded "C" word. However, if there is a silver lining in any type of cancer, apparently you want the "non-small cell" type. I never ever thought I'd hope if I had cancer, I'd prefer a type, but now that the occasion has arisen, I guess it's the type that is the lesser of the evils.

It's called "non-small cell lung cancer", or adenocarcinoma. That may be the wrong spelling, but I will not look it up. As an athlete, I've always preferred the strategy of "defense" as opposed to "offense," so I'm not surprised I've been so disciplined in not googling any type of information.

I'm surrounded tonight with my husband, my darling mother-in-law, my sister, and my mother, and a chaotic household is providing to be fairly therapeutic. I'm a little worried about my mother, as she looks terribly weak, but is putting on one hell of a game face. I pray she doesn't fall. She always hounded me about quitting smoking. At least she's not saying: "I told you so..."

As we came home today, I saw on my counter six cans of silly string. It's a unique Julie tradition that whenever my nieces and nephews, Mike, Mark and Sarah would come visit me when they were little, we always had "Silly String Wars." Normally, these wars were outside in the yard, but I will admit I have pelted them with silly string inside my home. Yea, I like festive things!!!!!!! This past Christmas, I had purchased about six cans of the colorful spray goo, but time and circumstance did not allow us to engage in our typical tradition. Upon seeing all the colorful cans on my kitchen counter tonight,(Okay, so they've been sitting there since Christmas...I've never said I'm Miss Tidy-Didy or have an immaculate house) I immediately thought: With the news I got today, while it's not the best, it does provide a wee bit of a smile and increased hope, and I'd love a silly string war about now!!! My stupid, goofy brain!!!
It's still going to be a gnarly fight. However, I'm an athlete, competitive and pretty damn feisty when I need to be. I've had passive moments, peaceful moments. Now that things are identified, the slow cruise to the unknown is asea and I'm coming to terms with things. I've told many friends I'll fight this like a little street tramp! I've a chance hopefully with some pretty magnificent options, and I'm going to be okay.
Love and Prayers..

Humor as an avenue...

Today, I did not want to leave school after my last class. I've taken a half day off as my appt. is this afternoon. My normal daily procedure is to come home on my planning hour, eat lunch, and then return to AHS to have lunch duty. I'm always eager to go home on my plan and let my hair down for a few minutes before I return. Today, I didn't want to leave. It's a strange way of avoidance.
When I got home, I happened to see my mother-in-law pull in the driveway. She's in town from Raleigh, North Carolina for her grandaughter's wedding, and will be staying with us for a week. It will be a delightful diversion having her here. I happened to see her just sitting in the car, and figured she was doing some processing. I decided to quickly arm myself with several snow-balls, and started pelting her while she sat in the car in my driveway. I've still got accuracy for a 47 year old middle-aged woman! I smacked the windows with a couple of snow-balls, and it was kinda funny to release like that.... Oh, to have seen the smile on her face.
I've to leave in a bit to go to the Doctor. I truly think I've my mindset prepared for the worst. I think it's a strange way to arm myself for the bad news, but in hopes that I'll be sweetly suprised with some good news somewhere down the road. It's a weird emotion.
Love and Prayers..

"Strength comes in riptides..."

“Strength comes in riptides”

My weekend excursion into total Julie immersion is over, and it’s back to reality in the Blair household. It was a wonderful weekend, and I again praise the love of my life, Wes, for forcing me on a jaunt to the Elms Resort over the weekend. Men…they’ll surprise you and charm you in a heartbeat! It was actually wonderful for Wes and I to sit back and laugh, hug, cry and prepare for the journey that awaits us. Strength comes in waves and riptides, and I am fully prepared for an onslaught of varying emotions. I pray for Wes too.
My touchstone sister Janie, and my brother Tom informed my mother today while I was in Kansas City. My mother is 84 and has had several mini-strokes. At first, when they informed her, my mother was in a state of confusion and thought they were telling her she was the one with a serious health issue. It might be a blessing her brain processes things differently.
My family has been absolutely wonderful. I can’t say enough about how important it is to have strong family ties in situations like this. My sister is a Godsend. She arrived today from Wichita with several casseroles and a Kahlua cake from Mary Jo Rohr, one of her good friends, and Kim Hagan, her sister-in-law. I’m glad she has such good friends supporting her. It’s terrible to watch the ones you love try to be so strong for you, yet it makes me wonder who’s strong for them? Who’s going to hold them up? Who’s going to pick up the pieces for them? My entire family has stood behind me, and believe me, it’s a wonderful feeling.
I’ve my appointment tomorrow with the pulmonologist at 2:15, and I’m prepared for the worst. I’m coughing more frequently, and it’s a scary, almost suffocating feeling. I have an appointment at KU Cancer Center on both Tuesday and Wednesday, and am ready to get on this journey. It’s an impatient feeling. I’m still holding hope that this is a benign mass, but I’m pretty much prepared for the worst. I wish this was a bad dream, but unfortunately it’s not. I just want to get this waiting game over. It’s cruel. I would simply prefer to know my destiny, and get there. I’ve lived my life as a fast-moving train, and I’m not surprised I have this same attitude now. I’m avoiding googling anything to protect myself. I’m amazed I’ve had the discipline to avoid googling information, but in a sense, it’s a safe way to keep me in a stupor until I know for sure. I know how my brain operates, and had I been googling information, my chaotic brain would be all over the map. I’ve given myself a legend to this roadmap of bad news and will not deviate from it. It’s strange how I can block things out. I once was shooting an excellent round of golf with my husband and one of his friends, and never actually tallied up my score until the end. I ended up shooting a 76, which is really good for me, but had no clue what my final score would be throughout the round. Funky brain I have!! Of course, that’s already pretty much known!!
Both Wes and my heart are heavy for a dear friend of ours who’s also going through some rough waters. Trish has been a wonderful, inspirational friend to the both of us, and I ask that you pray for her during her journey with her husband, Bill. It’s unfortunate that life, as grandiose, magnificent and beautiful as it is, must also give us heartbreak.
Keep the Faith!

The Edge of Insanity vs. The Peter Page Perspective...

“The Edge of Insanity vs. The Peter Page Perspective…
Well, today I had a lovely day. I had the fortune of having a husband that had the wherewithal to realize I may need a diversion this weekend. He took me to the Elms Resort and Spa and had them pamper me with a mineral bath, massage, salt scrub, facial, wax, pedi and mani! While most may consider this an overload, it is exactly what my rampant, racing mind needed. Wes is a genuine, sincere, wonderful man, and I’m blessed to have married him. His humor is priceless, and we’re a good match.
The “Peter Page Perspective” is reflection on a precious boy, who would be my middle nephew Mark’s age, whom I use to babysit and taught how to swim in my sister’s pool. His mother is one of my sisters dear friends. Peter was a sparkplug, precious, and quite a little charmer. He also had leukemia and was taken way too early. The reason I mention this is because in the grand scheme of life, there is tragedy, and there is true tragedy. Peter’s story is true tragedy. Mine is not. I’ve been blessed to have a wonderful, free-spirited, zany and fortunate life. I don’t mean to presume I’m ready to throw in the towel just yet…I’m prepared to fight this with a vengeance and with as much competitiveness as I can garner. I’m an athlete and quite competitive. However, I must also be rational, prepared and straightforward with myself.
I have felt as if I’m on the edge of insanity. Everyday chores are now tough to complete. It’s amazing how control seeps out slowly, eking its way towards confusion and distraction. My mind is racing, my thoughts are many, and my spirit fluctuates. In one moment, I’m positive, secure and strong. In an instant, it gravitates towards negative-town, and I feel the need to go “walkabout” to keep occupied.{Thanks T, for my new favorite word: walkabout}.
I had a great evening to top off my total “Julie immersion” day. My middle nephew Mark, his girlfriend Carrie, and my nephew Mike’s wife, Tami, met us for dinner at the Jazz Café at Legends in Kansas City. For two hours, my mind was happy, and I was surrounded by those who mean the most to me. My nieces and nephews, and great nieces and nephews truly put smiles on my face. It was a slice of heaven wrapped around some excellent food.
Please make sure to take the time to tell those who bring happiness to your life that they, indeed, do so.
Love and Prayers,
Julie