“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
Friday, March 6, 2009
Thursday, March 5, 2009
"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
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
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
"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
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
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
"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
Monday, March 2, 2009
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..
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..
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..
Sunday, March 1, 2009
"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!
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!
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