Message to Myself

• This evening I have been wandering through previous years’ blog posts hoping to call forth my Muse again.  You know, I used to actually write, not simply recounting the events of the day, but truly write.  I am hoping, and formulating a discipline for myself, to return to that frame of mind in the coming year.
• The past week I have been missing Karen a tremendous amount, a hurting amount at times.  We were cousins by blood, but sisters – soul mates, even – by heart.
• I stumbled across the following post on my original blog from September 2009, a few short months after Karen’s passing.  Stumbled?  Was drawn to without conscious intention?  Whatever the manner in reaching it, I am sharing it below for it is indeed a message to myself tonight. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If we live long enough, we will lose someone.  I’m talking about losing someone to death, the loss when another soul departs this Earth.

If you’re reading this, you have lost someone, sometime.  It happens.

What do you do?  Most people grieve, rage at the Universe perhaps, and finally, hopefully, be able to remember the departed with fondness.  One learns this is the Cycle of Life and one moves on . . . always remembering the person who is no longer with us, but still . . . moving on with Life.

What about the other folks?  The ones who cannot get past that first stage of mourning, of loss, of emptiness, of dependence on the one gone, of weaving the departed one into the fabric of their own life through constant talking of them and not being able to recalibrate their own existence . . . instead basing their world on the soul departed.

Yes, I know we all deal with loss in our own way.  I’m not saying what is right for one person is right for another in this process.

Still, it seems such a waste of existence to be so wrapped up in, so still-clinging to, one who has been dead for a number of years.  Seems like the person still here is missing so much of the vibrancy, the texture, the colors, the realization of a full life for themselves.  Do all their friends tolerate or enjoy the constant referencing of everything to the deceased?  Does it become tiresome to them and perhaps distressing if they have recently lost someone themselves?

Does this result in a rather morose and depressed individual?  Someone who is insecure in their own right, unable to make their own way in the world, unable to even hold down a job?

I would imagine this occurs in varying degrees.  Perhaps the person can perform on a basic functional level and appear to have gotten past the loss and yet still be mourning on an internal level.  We all hear about the remaining partner dying not long after their spouse after a long-term marriage.

If someone through the course of an eight-hour day mentions the departed at least once every hour and expresses their own existence in relation to the departed . . . can this be healthy?  This lamenter comes across as being sorrowfully depressed and, quite frankly, the listener can eventually feel bombarded and pummeled by so much negative energy; too much of “poor little me.”

Do we not owe the memory of the departed the honor of living a full life?  If one believes in an everlasting spirit of the departed, do we not owe them the right to be free?  By not keeping their spirit so close to us that it is restricting them from moving on to being fully at rest in the Hereafter?

Step outside your own sorrow.  If not for yourself but for your love of the departed, let them be free.

Let go.

Perhaps my viewpoint comes from being a strong person.  Oh yes, I have experienced losses.  I have mourned, cried, raged, lost my faith and reclaimed it, known that life would never be the same without the person and, yet, stumbled on through the haze, the fog, the sorrow . . . coming out on the other side knowing Birth, Life and Death are all part of our journey on this earthly plane.  

Is it a spiritual faith that allows one to come to terms with loss?  Is it being tough-skinned?  Is it being a survivor?  Is it being a Warrior?  Is it just being human?

I certainly do not profess to have the answers.  I feel for those who cannot let go, who yet cling to the departed.  My personal history causes me to feel some impatience with these people for allowing so many of the joys of each day flutter by without reaching out and grasping some happiness for themselves, clinging to that happiness as tightly as they cling to the memory of their lost ones.

Each day is a gift, not to be squandered.  I have recently lost my beloved Karen.  I miss her more than I can express; however, the pain eases just a bit each day.  I can call her memory up now and not be sorrowful but smile instead.  She was so full of life, laughter and faith and we shared so much of that . . . I carry on now in a joyful life, laughter in my home and heart, and my faith restored.  I like to think she watches over me . . . that she is by my side when I need strength . . . that she gets a silly laugh when I do something goofy.  I still talk to her . . . when I hear the chirp of a tree frog in the evenings I say, "Hiya cuz, whatcha into?  What’s happenin’?  I’m doing good.  See ya!"   Feel her presence?  Yes, definitely, but not as often as during the days immediately following her death.  Letting go; letting her go.  Instead of clinging, I try to honor her memory by living the way I did before she left, as I know she would want, and as I must . . . for each day I am here are a few more additional hours I have been blessed with since that day in 2002 when I met my own mortality.  I consider every day since that time to be “overtime,” to just be time I have been given as a bonus, an extension until my own “expiration date” comes up on the calendar of Life.

Should we not be at peace, loving, laughing and living to our fullest as we walk this Earth?

Thanks for stopping by!

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

Gosh!  It’s Friday again and time to Celebrate the Small Things!

Dave knocked my socks off last Christmas with the gift of a silver link bracelet with diamond chips throughout.  Living the philosophy of saving “nice” things for “special” occasions, I wear it daily.  In fact, the only time it comes off my wrist is when I’m on the mower.  Well, a couple of days ago I thought I had lost it.  Figured the clasp broke or came open somehow and . . . it was gone.  I tell ya, I was truly in tears trying to accept that it was MIA but still refusing to believe it was gone; I still felt a spiritual connection to it.

Yes, it is “just” a bracelet, but Dave obviously took great care in selecting it and enjoyed seeing me all silly-girly-giddy-mushy when opening it Christmas morning.

A couple of hours later, there, on the ground by our RV . . . relief! 

Celebration!

It is tucked away until I can get to the jeweler to see about getting a different clasp.

That’s it for this week.  Of course, there’s always the celebration of being being alive and essentially healthy, the nice weather we’ve been having the past week and . . . well, stuff!

What are you celebrating today?

 

Rain in the Skies, Rain in My Heart

 

It has been a dreary day out my window and in my heart. 

We have had cloudy and, at times, rainy skies today.  Supposedly the heaviest downpours are yet to come overnight, but right now radar does not indicate that.  We’ll see.  It has been just icky enough to prevent outdoor activities, though.  On top of that, it’s gnat season here again.  Little buggars buzz around one’s ears, eyes and nose and have a habit of hanging around in tremendous swarms. 

I admit I am grieving for Robin Williams today.  I know that may sound silly but, as the saying goes, it is what it is. 

Perhaps it was hearing about his struggle with depression and feeling sad that he was in such emotional and spiritual pain while providing us with so much joy and laughter. 

Perhaps it is because I had been privy to a glimpse of the way he cared for strangers and shone a bit of light and joy in their lives when he could, that he was not the stereotypical self-centered celebrity and did not hold himself so high as to not share himself with others.  (See yesterday’s blog post.)  News articles have echoed similar situations as the one I talked about in my post yesterday.   

In 2002, I was barely a year out of breast cancer treatment when my ex moved out of our home in Texas, ending 25 years of being together.  Coming on the heels of breast cancer, the events of September 11 in our nation and other life stressors, the dissolution of my marriage caused me to enter into the darkest days of my life. 

For about three months, I was functional, but my functionality was a sham.  I worked as a home-based medical transcriptionist, so I did not have to go to an off-site office.  I worked because I had bills to pay and had to feed my animals.  Me?  I barely ate and hardly slept.  Going anywhere was a struggle for fear of breaking down in public.  I found no joy or interest in anything.  The fur of my dog and cats was frequently soaked with my tears.  I never knew I was capable of heart-wrenching, body-wracking sobbing.  Every day.  More than once a day.  Sitting on the floor of the bathroom with the lights off and door closed.  I told everyone I was okay; however, having a medical background, I knew I was depressed.  I recognized all the classical symptoms in myself.  I kept telling myself, “You’ll get over it.  Just tough your way through it.” 

Yeah, right.

Ending up in my doctor’s office in November of that year with a respiratory infection, he asked me how things were going in general.  Well, that did it.  I lost it.  After we talked a bit about all the life stressors I had experienced in less than 12 months and, knowing me and realizing I was definitely not my usual self,  he diagnosed me with situational depression and civilian post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).   I walked out of his office with a prescription for a mild antidepressant.

Small-town doctors can be a true blessing.

Within a few weeks of starting the medication, I began to feel more like myself again and began to walk the path of healing.  During that time of healing, I found my joy, my peace, my strength and my life again.  I took the medication for just under a year.

Never once during those dark days did I consider suicide, even with my world having crashed down upon me, even not knowing what I supposed to do next, even not knowing how I could possibly be happy again.

Looking back, I realize now that it was a process I needed to go through to begin healing, to become an vessel, if you will, to fill with joy, peace, strength and – later – love once again.  As the saying goes, it didn’t kill me; it made me stronger.

Perhaps what saddens me is knowing the intense overwhelming despair I felt and knowing that Robin – or anyone – could feel such absolute hopelessness to the point of taking their own life.

Today I am being gentle with myself, allowing myself to grieve for the man whose light here on Earth was extinguished sooner than we would have liked, who showered us with such laughter while battling his inner demons. 

I hope his soul has found peace and rest at last.

I hope that out of his passing will come nonjudgmental, loving and supportive dialogues about depression.   I hope that those who are suffering with depression and PTSD will reach out – or others will reach out to them – and realize that they are not alone.

Thanks for stopping by!

Rain in the Skies, Rain in My Heart

 

It has been a dreary day out my window and in my heart. 

We have had cloudy and, at times, rainy skies today.  Supposedly the heaviest downpours are yet to come overnight, but right now radar does not indicate that.  We’ll see.  It has been just icky enough to prevent outdoor activities, though.  On top of that, it’s gnat season here again.  Little buggars buzz around one’s ears, eyes and nose and have a habit of hanging around in tremendous swarms. 

I admit I am grieving for Robin Williams today.  I know that may sound silly but, as the saying goes, it is what it is. 

Perhaps it was hearing about his struggle with depression and feeling sad that he was in such emotional and spiritual pain while providing us with so much joy and laughter. 

Perhaps it is because I had been privy to a glimpse of the way he cared for strangers and shone a bit of light and joy in their lives when he could, that he was not the stereotypical self-centered celebrity and did not hold himself so high as to not share himself with others.  (See yesterday’s blog post.)  News articles have echoed similar situations as the one I talked about in my post yesterday.   

In 2002, I was barely a year out of breast cancer treatment when my ex moved out of our home in Texas, ending 25 years of being together.  Coming on the heels of breast cancer, the events of September 11 in our nation and other life stressors, the dissolution of my marriage caused me to enter into the darkest days of my life. 

For about three months, I was functional, but my functionality was a sham.  I worked as a home-based medical transcriptionist, so I did not have to go to an off-site office.  I worked because I had bills to pay and had to feed my animals.  Me?  I barely ate and hardly slept.  Going anywhere was a struggle for fear of breaking down in public.  I found no joy or interest in anything.  The fur of my dog and cats was frequently soaked with my tears.  I never knew I was capable of heart-wrenching, body-wracking sobbing.  Every day.  More than once a day.  Sitting on the floor of the bathroom with the lights off and door closed.  I told everyone I was okay; however, having a medical background, I knew I was depressed.  I recognized all the classical symptoms in myself.  I kept telling myself, “You’ll get over it.  Just tough your way through it.” 

Yeah, right.

Ending up in my doctor’s office in November of that year with a respiratory infection, he asked me how things were going in general.  Well, that did it.  I lost it.  After we talked a bit about all the life stressors I had experienced in less than 12 months and, knowing me and realizing I was definitely not my usual self,  he diagnosed me with situational depression and civilian post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).   I walked out of his office with a prescription for a mild antidepressant.

Small-town doctors can be a true blessing.

Within a few weeks of starting the medication, I began to feel more like myself again and began to walk the path of healing.  During that time of healing, I found my joy, my peace, my strength and my life again.  I took the medication for just under a year.

Never once during those dark days did I consider suicide, even with my world having crashed down upon me, even not knowing what I supposed to do next, even not knowing how I could possibly be happy again.

Looking back, I realize now that it was a process I needed to go through to begin healing, to become an vessel, if you will, to fill with joy, peace, strength and – later – love once again.  As the saying goes, it didn’t kill me; it made me stronger.

Perhaps what saddens me is knowing the intense overwhelming despair I felt and knowing that Robin – or anyone – could feel such absolute hopelessness to the point of taking their own life.

Today I am being gentle with myself, allowing myself to grieve for the man whose light here on Earth was extinguished sooner than we would have liked, who showered us with such laughter while battling his inner demons. 

I hope his soul has found peace and rest at last.

I hope that out of his passing will come nonjudgmental, loving and supportive dialogues about depression.   I hope that those who are suffering with depression and PTSD will reach out – or others will reach out to them – and realize that they are not alone.

Thanks for stopping by!

Today There is Less Laughter in the World . . .

 

You may have heard of the passing of Robin Williams earlier today.  He was 63 years old.

So many of us found laughter and joy in his films and admired his more serious works.  You might have even been in the audience of a live performance or seen him on The Actors Studio or similar venue.

You know Robin as a comedian and actor.  Did you also know he was an accomplished cyclist?

For several years, I participated in the Lance Armstrong Foundation Ride for the Roses when it was only held in Austin, Texas.  This was a weekend-long event, with seminars and expo Friday and Saturday and the ride on Sunday.  It may have been 2004, but I’m not sure as I attended the ride for several years in a row back then.  I booked a bed and breakfast suite in Austin and made it a weekend of self-pampering.  Of course, the highlight of the weekend was Sunday’s ride.  Here’s me crossing the finish line in 2004.

Thousands of cyclists – over 6000 - came from all across the nation and literally from around the globe.  You never really knew who you might be standing next to at the event staging area.

Riders were composed of survivors like myself, those riding in support of someone battling cancer and those riding in memory of someone who had passed.

There was so much energy in the air, so much spirit, courage and determination.  It was somewhat of a spiritual experience.  That day, during those hours of the ride, we were a family. 

We were one, united by cancer.

At these events, groups of riders depart the start in stages.  The riders for the longest route go first, then the riders for the next route and so forth until everyone is on the road.  There can be hundreds of riders in each group, so this can take a bit of time.

So here it was early morning and chilly; the sun had barely risen.  We’re at the staging area, the National Anthem has been played, Lance has given his pre-ride talk and the first group of riders is away. 

Who appears on the stage?

Robin Williams.

Robin started talking . . . and talking.  The entire crowd started laughing.  I’m sure his was an impromptu “performance;”  heck, it was just Robin talking to us and I don’t even remember what he was saying.  What I do remember is the sound of laughter filling the early morning air.  My group waited for almost an hour but – you know what?  It seemed like five minutes thanks to the antics of Robin and his ability to engage the crowd. 

During this, a rider standing next to me started telling me how he had encountered Robin at the expo the day before.  He said Robin was so down-to-earth and asked the guy why he was riding.  He told Robin how he was riding for his girlfriend, who was extremely ill with cancer and a huge fan of his.  Next thing he knew, Robin told him to call his girlfriend and he would say hello to her.  The guy called and handed his phone to Robin when his girlfriend got on the line.  The guy told me the conversation went like this (okay, it’s been several years, but the last line is basically verbatim”"):

“Hi!  This is Robin Williams!”

“No it’s not.  No way.”

“Well, who the hell do you think it is?!?!?”

The guy told me his girlfriend and Robin had a nice wee chat.  She was absolutely overwhelmed and so thrilled!

There was no press release about this, no cameras . . . it was something Robin just did to brighten the day of a cancer warrior.

I never met Robin at these events and didn’t even get close to him; however, I am feeling a personal loss at his passing.

Robin’s status as a celebrity was huge . . . but not nearly as big as his heart. 

There is less laughter in our world today . . .

 

 

 

 

 

Today There is Less Laughter in the World . . .

 

You may have heard of the passing of Robin Williams earlier today.  He was 63 years old.

So many of us found laughter and joy in his films and admired his more serious works.  You might have even been in the audience of a live performance or seen him on The Actors Studio or similar venue.

You know Robin as a comedian and actor.  Did you also know he was an accomplished cyclist?

For several years, I participated in the Lance Armstrong Foundation Ride for the Roses when it was only held in Austin, Texas.  This was a weekend-long event, with seminars and expo Friday and Saturday and the ride on Sunday.  It may have been 2004, but I’m not sure as I attended the ride for several years in a row back then.  I booked a bed and breakfast suite in Austin and made it a weekend of self-pampering.  Of course, the highlight of the weekend was Sunday’s ride.  Here’s me crossing the finish line in 2004.

Thousands of cyclists – over 6000 - came from all across the nation and literally from around the globe.  You never really knew who you might be standing next to at the event staging area.

Riders were composed of survivors like myself, those riding in support of someone battling cancer and those riding in memory of someone who had passed.

There was so much energy in the air, so much spirit, courage and determination.  It was somewhat of a spiritual experience.  That day, during those hours of the ride, we were a family. 

We were one, united by cancer.

At these events, groups of riders depart the start in stages.  The riders for the longest route go first, then the riders for the next route and so forth until everyone is on the road.  There can be hundreds of riders in each group, so this can take a bit of time.

So here it was early morning and chilly; the sun had barely risen.  We’re at the staging area, the National Anthem has been played, Lance has given his pre-ride talk and the first group of riders is away. 

Who appears on the stage?

Robin Williams.

Robin started talking . . . and talking.  The entire crowd started laughing.  I’m sure his was an impromptu “performance;”  heck, it was just Robin talking to us and I don’t even remember what he was saying.  What I do remember is the sound of laughter filling the early morning air.  My group waited for almost an hour but – you know what?  It seemed like five minutes thanks to the antics of Robin and his ability to engage the crowd. 

During this, a rider standing next to me started telling me how he had encountered Robin at the expo the day before.  He said Robin was so down-to-earth and asked the guy why he was riding.  He told Robin how he was riding for his girlfriend, who was extremely ill with cancer and a huge fan of his.  Next thing he knew, Robin told him to call his girlfriend and he would would say hello to her.  The guy called and handed his phone to Robin when his girlfriend got on the line.  The guy told me the conversation went like this (okay, it’s been several years, but the last line is basically verbatim”"):

“Hi!  This is Robin Williams!”

“No it’s not.  No way.”

“Well, who the hell do you think it is?!?!?”

The guy told me his girlfriend and Robin had a nice wee chat.  She was absolutely overwhelmed and so thrilled!

There was no press release about this, no cameras . . . it was something Robin just did to brighten the day of a cancer warrior.

I never met Robin at these events and didn’t even get close to him; however, I am feeling a personal loss at his passing.

Robin’s status as a celebrity was huge . . . but not nearly as big as his heart. 

There is less laughter in our world today . . .

 

 

 

 

 

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

 

Every Friday it’s time to Celebrate the Small Things!

• I’m celebrating our new smoker/grill I found yesterday!  I’m glad it wasn’t too late in the season to find one.  Put it through the curing process today.

Tomorrow we’ll have salmon burgers and then Sunday I’ll be doing chicken and sausage with corn on the cob from a local farm vendor.  Sweet.

• We had an impromptu midweek campfire a couple of days ago.

I so enjoy our campfire evenings, quiet time spent together sitting by the fire or rummaging around for more twigs.  Hubby spoiled me with this unplanned evening and he has been prepping for this weekend by splitting logs today.

Guess I’m celebrating a laid-back lifestyle and an awesome husband!

• I am also celebrating and giving thanks for having doctors here who are people and not just clinicians.  They – referring to my medical doctor and my surgeon – actually listen to me and treat not just the medical condition, but me as a person.  Awesome.  These days, that is certainly something to celebrate, eh? 

What are you celebrating today?

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

 

Here it is Friday again and time to Celebrate the Small Things!

• Today I am celebrating the fact that the weekly laundry task is done, so I have the weekend cleared of that chore.  Well, it does say we can celebrate small things, right?  Of course, every week I am grateful we have a washer/dryer set here and I don’t have to go a laundromat.  As a full-time RVer, that is a big thing!

 

• We had a totally awesome storm one night recently.  There wasn’t much in the way of rainfall or wind, but that was the second fiercest display of thunder and lightning I have ever witnessed, vying in intensity with one I experienced in 2005, in Washington, DC.  It was dark out, but every few seconds was bright as daylight with lightning.  The thunder would boom and roll across the countryside for several seconds.  I am celebrating the fact that we didn’t incur a direct strike here and only lost power off and on.

 

• Never distressed by thunder or lightning (or fireworks), the above storm was the first time our Maggie showed signs of unease and restlessness.  We were all a bit on edge, I think.  Even after getting into bed, I got up and dressed again after a while just because it was so crazy out.  She was sick the next morning, and I am celebrating and grateful that this was a one-off occurrence and not a repeat of her illness back in May. 

So there you have it – my celebrations this week!

What are you celebrating today?

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

 

Another week has just about flown by and I find that it is time to Celebrate the Small Things!

 

• If you read my previous entry, you would know that this past Saturday I celebrated being two years out from a second cancer diagnosis.  Yay!  That is definitely not a small thing.  Carpe diem!
• Thanks to social media, I recently reconnected with a gal I met while we were workamping in Missouri during the Winter of 2010.  She and her husband were parked next to us during those miserable couple of months.  One does meet some good people in this lifestyle.  That is certainly cause for celebration!

Parked right on a lake, it was cold and windy – December 2010

• I celebrate the fact that certain songs can cause my soul to soar.

What are you celebrating today?

Two-Year Cancerversary

 

Two years ago today I was told a tumor was found on routine pathology of my appendix following an emergent appendectomy on July 11, 2012.  The cancer was goblet cell carcinoid, a rare type, and not related to the breast cancer I experienced in 2001.   About a month following the appendectomy, I underwent more surgery – right hemi-colectomy and bilateral oophorectomy – related to the GCC.  Once again, I was lucky, blessed – being “watched out for” by some Spirit greater than myself – in so many ways.  Finding the tumor at Stage II, being assigned my particular surgeon just because he was on call the date of my ER visit for the appendix (and who says first thing about the tumor, “I’m going for a cure.”), the superb care provided by the staff of the local community hospital.  My husband Dave falls into that category, too.  This was not my first rodeo with the cancer experience, so it was harder on him than me.  You know what?  He stepped right up with no hesitation and once again proved to be a man and husband in the truest senses of those words.

Melissa Etheridge’s The Awakening is filling my ears as I visit with you this evening.  This album of hers particularly speaks to me.  She compiled it following her cancer experience.  It’s serious, insightful, spiritual and rockin’.

Overall 5-year survival rate for GCC of the appendix is approximately 77%.  That’s not too bad, not too great.  That’s not being morbid.  That’s being realistic, although statistics don’t mean squat.   I could trip over a groundhog and break my neck tomorrow or live to be 105.  Not sure I want to live to 105, though. 

What it is, however, is a benchmark by which I can strive to live my life.

Hey, I’ve made it two years, getting a literal thumbs-up from my surgeon and a hug at this year’s check-up following CT scan.  Did I mention my surgeon is awesome?  When was the last time a surgeon (or any physician) gave you their personal cell phone number on hospital discharge in case you had questions or concerns?  He rocks.

Whether I have three years, three minutes or three decades left in this world, the thing is to live every day to its max as much as possible. 

All anyone has is right here, right now.

So how did I spend my cancerversary?  Didn’t even dawn on me it was today until this evening.

Dave and I went up the hill to the local farmers market this morning.  Dave appreciates a good tomato and the ones at this market are totally yummy, so he walked away with a small basket of them.  I scored some homemade bread topped with feta cheese and onions.  Yum!

From there we went to Walmart, where Dave picked up a couple of grocery items and I made a few purchases in the garden department, a new 100-foot hose and a pot for an office plant that has outgrown its current home.  Returning home, Dave mowed his portion outside the front fence and I washed our RV.

Not perfect, but better than it was and it’s white again!

I actually enjoy washing the RV!  Our home looks after us, so I enjoy giving it some TLC.

Dinner was leftover King Ranch Casserole from yesterday and some of that bread from the market warmed up a bit.  Sure was nice to have leftovers after we were both busy this afternoon.  After dinner, I received a phone call from a girlfriend of my Brenham days and we had a fine catch-up yap session.  She and her husband are now living the full-time life, too.  The three of us – me, Dave and Maggie – had a nice evening walk a while ago.  Dave is now watching a movie over in the rig and I’m here in the office with Melissa and you. 

My life has been – and still is – so very amazing, filled with sparkling gems who are friends, experiences of both spiritual and physical natures which have been breathtaking, adventures on my own which still amaze me when I recall them (I did that??), the souls who have passed through my life briefly for a particular purpose, the adventures Dave and I have shared over the past nine years . . . and just look at that RV up there in the photo.  That’s my dream, folks.  Living this lifestyle. 

To those of you who walked beside me on that path two years ago . . . thank you – thank you ever so much for your support during that time.  Your words certainly bolstered and strengthened me.  I am grateful for your presence in my life.

Carpe diem!

Thanks for stopping by!

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

 

Guess I’m trying to make up missing last Friday by composing this entry Thursday evening.  Now if I can remember to post it tomorrow . . .

 

• Tonight I’m celebrating the gift of Eagle making a fly-by directly over me this afternoon.

 

• This afternoon I visited my hair stylist for a cut.  Ahhh . . . that feels better!  At every appointment with her I celebrate the fact that it is a relaxing experience, she and I have a comfortable relationship ongoing now for over three years, and I can emerge from the shop lookin’ good.  Catherine is a good-hearted and talented young woman, coming here to me to cut my hair during the interval between my cancer surgeries two years ago . . . and not charging me for the visit.  She works from a salon a 30-minute drive from here through the countryside now, having moved there from a salon about five minutes from here earlier this year.  No surprise that I followed her when she transferred.

 

• Although I marvel at and celebrate the man who is my husband, I’ll mention tonight that I am fortunate to be married to someone who understands,  supports and encourages my idea of a solo retreat weekend on my own.  I’m considering taking a weekend to myself in the near future and am looking at renting a wee cottage or cabin not far from here.  I’m looking at Lancaster or Gettysburg, PA and in the Poconos.  I envision a weekend of writing, meditating and napping.  Throughout my life, I have been an independent gal, taking road trips on my own, tent camping solo and so forth.  We are together essentially 24/7 and it has been several years since I have ventured out on my own.  Perhaps it’s time to do so again, just to stay in practice!  At any rate, I am celebrating having a supportive partner.

What are you celebrating today?

Thanks for stopping by!

 

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post - No. 6

 

 

Is it Friday already?  Well, then, it must be time to Celebrate the Small Things!

 

• Today I am celebrating the finding of a certain type of harness for our dog Maggie.  It’s the only design I have run across that she can’t “Houdini” out of given the opportunity.  I wasn’t even on a mission to find one as I have been in the past; it just happened as an afterthought.  I have found them at Petco and Walmart, but had not seen one in ages.  In Walmart this afternoon picking up some provisions, my little voice said, “Check down the dog aisle.  Maybe there’s a harness.”  Sure enough, there it was.  Just one, just her size and pink, no less.  Score!

 

• You know, I celebrate our wee Maggie every day.  She is such a treasure, a rescue from an Austin, TX shelter in 2010, a few months prior to our hitting the road as full-timers.  She is smart as can be, always smiling, always in a grand mood, happy to just be with us.  Such a trouper, she has bravely been with us through not only our travels but two hurricanes, blizzards and Superstorm Sandy.  My little bundle of joy, my sleeps-all-night-in-the-same-spot doggie, my funny midlife doggie.

 

Maggie’s Happy Face

 

On patrol

 

• After enduring a few days of absolutely oppressive weather conditions this past week (it was so humid out one could actually see the hazy moisture in the air), I have certainly been celebrating today’s conditions!  Following the front that passed through yesterday evening, we have had highs in the 70s and a light breeze with lows projected in the 50s overnight.  Bliss.  Absolute bliss.

What are you celebrating today?

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post - No. 6

 

 

Is it Friday already?  Well, then, it must be time to Celebrate the Small Things!

 

• Today I am celebrating the finding of a certain type of harness for our dog Maggie.  It’s the only design I have run across that she can’t “Houdini” out of given the opportunity.  I wasn’t even on a mission to find one as I have been in the past; it just happened as an afterthought.  I have found them at Petco and Walmart, but had not seen one in ages.  In Walmart this afternoon picking up some provisions, my little voice said, “Check down the dog aisle.  Maybe there’s a harness.”  Sure enough, there it was.  Just one, just her size and pink, no less.  Score!

 

• You know, I celebrate our wee Maggie every day.  She is such a treasure, a rescue from an Austin, TX shelter in 2010, a few months prior to our hitting the road as full-timers.  She is smart as can be, always smiling, always in a grand mood, happy to just be with us.  Such a trouper, she has bravely been with us through not only our travels but two hurricanes, blizzards and Superstorm Sandy.  My little bundle of joy, my sleeps-all-night-in-the-same-spot doggie, my funny midlife doggie.

 

Maggie’s Happy Face

 

On patrol

 

• After enduring a few days of absolutely oppressive weather conditions this past week (it was so humid out one could actually see the hazy moisture in the air), I have certainly been celebrating today’s conditions!  Following the front that passed through yesterday evening, we have had highs in the 70s and a light breeze with lows projected in the 50s overnight.  Bliss.  Absolute bliss.

What are you celebrating today?

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post - No. 5

 

 

It’s Friday and time once again to Celebrate the Small Things!

• The power is out to the office – which means our cable Internet is also down – and usually means the well pump is offline and we have no shore water.  Today I’m celebrating the fact that the well pump is online and we have free-flowing water.  I’m also tickled that we have power to our RV, so we at least have air conditioning.  Toss in there being able to run a hotspot from my phone and I’m just doing the Happy Dance all over the place.  Keeping with that, I’d guess that when power is restored to the office, I’ll be just freakin’ delirious.

 

• I’m also celebrating the fact that we have enough funds in the bank for me to replace a printer and my phone, both of which croaked during the past week’s time.  I was eligible for an upgrade and the phone was on sale, so it wasn’t too painful on the pocketbook.  I’m celebrating that, too!

 

• Although I am not thrilled about the fact that my wireless keyboard is ready for retirement, I am celebrating the three $10 coupons I got at Radio Shack when I bought the phone.  Just so happens they have this same keyboard on sale, so if I boogie back over there in the next day or two, I’ll score a good keyboard at a ridiculously low price.

I know these are silly, perhaps inconsequential things to celebrate.  It’s been a week of techie issues, so troubleshooting and resolve those issues is where my energy – physical, mental and creative – have been the past seven days.  Perhaps next Friday I’ll have something profound and insightful to celebrate.  Who knows? 

Right now I think I’ll get over to Radio Shack for that keyboard!

What are you celebrating today?

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post - No. 4

 

 

It’s Friday and time once again to Celebrate the Small Things!

Not only does Friday herald the end of the week, but also celebration!  I’m a bit late getting this post done, Wednesday and Thursday being focused on upgrading our network router and the resultant cascade effect.  Oh the joys of technology!

 

Meet “Hal,” new addition to the office

 

• I am most definitely celebrating having set up the new router  and getting all our devices online.  Our wireless printer was a few generations old, so new router ended up meaning new printer.  That ended up with a all-day event of wearing my geek IT “hat” getting all our devices online.  Dave’s laptop refused to communicate with the new printer, etc.  I am celebrating having accomplished all this without consulting outside technical support!

 

 

• I am celebrating the fact that these lilies finally bloomed!  They had been on the verge of opening for several days and have arrived at last!  This is their third year of coming back annually and I’m proud of them for doing so.

 

• Once again I’m doing the Happy Dance because of the weather here in NW New Jersey.  Today’s high is to be around 76F and was in the mid 50s last night.  That’s grand sleeping weather, especially in an RV with a window open. 

 

Our home, to the right of the office trailer

 

What are you celebrating today?

Thanks for stopping by!

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post - No. 3

 

It’s Friday and time once again to Celebrate the Small Things!

Not only does Friday herald the end of the week, but also celebration!  I’m attempting to limit myself to three items each week, but that is sometimes difficult.

• I’m composing this post Thursday evening and simply celebrating the lifestyle I’m fortunate to lead with my husband and wee dog.  Sure, Life throws curve balls now and then – serious issues that challenge one – but these are the Good Years.  Trust me.

 

Celebrating the return this week of an annual visitor

 

• The weather over the past several days has truly been a cause for celebration!  We have experienced highs in the 70s and mid 60s, even with a couple of days of low humidity.  Heat and humidity simply drain me of energy and feelings of well-being, so I have been thoroughly enjoying this week.

 

Celebrating an evening walk in divinely cool weather

 

• Saturday is the opening of the annual local farmers market.  Even though small, it is pretty nifty and the breads we got there last year were certainly worth celebration.  Fudge.  Oh my yes, the fudge was, too!  I plan to mosey up the hill to check it out Saturday morning.  The market.  And the fudge!

What are you celebrating today?

Thanks for stopping by!

Celebrate the Small Things - A Blog Hop Post

 

 

It’s Friday and time once again to Celebrate the Small Things! 

I’m a little late in the day getting this post together, so let’s just jump right in:

• I just glanced out my office window and saw two smallish rabbits scampering around the large bush in the yard.  It really looks like they are playing.  I’ll certainly celebrate in thanks for the smile they just gave me.  This week I have also celebrated seeing robins extract earthworms from the immense “front yard” we have here.  Then there was seeing the two young groundhogs hanging out with their mom yesterday evening; that was a moment or two of smiling.

 

• Being out of Texas during summertime is also cause for celebration.  It may heat up here during the day, but not nearly as hot as in Texas, and it does cool down at night.  Today’s high was 75F and right now it is 64F out.  Today’s high in Brenham, TX (which I still consider the home of my Texas heart) was 91F and right now it is 88F.  Even during the peak of Summer here in NW New Jersey, the evenings give us a break from the heat.  Can’t beat that with a stick, folks, and it certainly is cause for celebration!

 

• Albeit a bit premature, I’ll go ahead and celebrate a fun morning tomorrow.  The CERT group will be here running the latest class through their final class drill, a search-and-rescue exercise here at the mill.  I attended training last year and was an active participant in the drill here, down on my hands and knees in “smoke” searching for “victims.”  This year I’ll be manning the sign-in sheets while still in my primary role as security team member here.  I’m grateful to be part of the CERT organization and be around good folks.

CERT trailer in our parking lot awaiting tomorrow’s drill

What are you celebrating today?

National Cancer Survivors Day - As a Survivor

 

Today is National Cancer Survivors Day, now in its 27th year of celebration.

Two months from now, I’ll be celebrating two years as a two-time survivor.  (I know.  There are a lot of “twos” in there, eh?)

I could be the poster gal for mammograms.  In 2001, my very first mammogram revealed abnormalities which turned out to the ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS) of the right breast.  Surgery, radiation and tamoxifen followed that diagnosis.  Divorce and dark days of my spirit followed thereafter.  What doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger, and I found my strength, my spirituality, my bliss and myself once again, more vibrant than ever before.

As a survivor advocate for LiveStrong Day on Capitol Hill – June 2005

In July 2012, I underwent an emergent appendectomy which revealed not only a ruptured appendix but goblet cell carcinoid (GCC) of the appendix.  A month later, I was in surgery again for a right hemicolectomy (removal of the right side of the colon) and bilateral oophorectomy (removal of both ovaries).

About a month after second surgery 2013

In both cases, I was fortunate to have talented, caring surgeons and excellent hospital care.  I was also fortunate that both cancers were detected in their early stages and that chemotherapy was not indicated.

The overall five-year survival rate for the GCC is not absolutely thrilling, but could be worse.  I’m coming up on two years out from diagnosis and really don’t think about it that much.  I have mostly good days and even the not-so-good days are not debilitating.

Enjoying time at the Jersey Shore – May 2013

Cancer does not rule my life.  Well, it has altered my lifestyle a bit, but not in a highly restrictive way by any means.  It’s just the new normal.

When I do stop and think about it . . .

If the GCC makes an encore appearance and I end up with another couple of years or even 12 months . . . 

I’m living my dream as a full-time RVer

I share my life with an amazing Scotsman and our wee dog.  I have traveled the United States as a child with my parents, on my own and with my husband, and have spent time with Dave in his  homeland of Scotland.

Sailing on Loch Ness in 2005 

I have had amazing, joyous and profound spiritual experiences as a Reiki Master/Teacher and walking the Red Path.   I have met the most amazing people along the way.

I have friends, true friends, scattered across the USA and across The Pond in Scotland.  That goes for family, too.

Memories . . . precious, exhilarating, groovy memories of experiences, places and people.

Those are treasures, indeed, but what is the most important is . . . right here, right now.  That’s it.  Survivor or not, no one is privy to their expiration date on this Earth.  I may have three more years, 30 more years or 30 more minutes. 

I am certainly no saint.  Hell, I’m a middle-aged woman with no ovaries, so you know my hormones go off the scale now and then.  Top that off with the fact that I have always been somewhat of an independent free spirit and, well . . . let’s just say my husband has patience.  A lot of patience some days.

It is the right here, right now that counts.  Living every day as if were your last or at least your last healthy, feel-good day.  Cliché, yes, but what a novel way to live. 

What a refreshing way to live. 

What an empowering way to live. 

What a mindful way to live.

That is what I strive to do as a cancer survivor.  Not always successful, but my experience as a cancer survivor provides me with a benchmark for living my remaining days.

If you have not done so already, go hug a survivor.  Drop them an email just to say you are thinking about them and are grateful for their presence in your life.  Better yet, call ‘em up.  Stroll down memory lane together for a bit and share some laughs. 

Right here, right now.

What does being a cancer survivor mean to you?

 

I am a Warrior

Celebrate the Small Things

 

It’s Friday and time once again to Celebrate the Small Things! 

Today is my second Friday as a participant in this blog hop.  What a fun way to stop for a moment or two and be mindful, and to nudge me back into the writing habit.  Here we go!

• Today I am deliriously celebrating the weather of this week.  After a warm, icky and rainy start to the week, we experienced two days with highs in the mid 50s and a gloriously sunny day today with an expected high of lower to mid 70s.  Although you would think I’d be acclimatized to heat and humidity as a native Texan, I really suffer on those days and tend to stay indoors.  Days like this week are indeed a relief.

• Keeping in mind the above, today I am celebrating we are in a setting where I can do some “digging in the dirt,” with flower beds. 

Plants for 2014, going into flower beds today or this weekend

• Today I am giddy with celebratory technological happiness that I found an iPhone calendar app that meets my needs!  The calendar app that is native on the iPhone was driving me bonkers.  Found Pocket Informant, which I do believe is what I was using on my Blackberry before I switched to the iPhone a couple of years ago.  Finally!  An app that works well and has the features I need.  Not that my personal life is all that busy (far from it), but I do need a calendar with task, event, reminder and note features for work.  Yay!  Love it, love it, love it!

•  Today I am celebrating (and grateful) that it is a day I feel pretty darn good.  Can’t say that every day, but today I can!

 

What are you celebrating today?

It Really is the Small Things

 

 

I noticed a while back that my friend Donna B. McNicol was participating in Celebrate the Small Things every Friday.  I like the overall idea of rejoicing in the “little” things in Life, whether it be a beach holiday, accomplishing a three-mile walk or simply a beautiful day with abundant sunshine.

Put that together with the fact that my blogging efforts have been minimal to essentially nonexistent, I’m thinking that participating in this weekly celebration might get me back into the mindset and habit of writing.

Let’s start with today’s celebrations:

• This week I’ve been enjoying a holiday at the Jersey shore with husband (Dave) and dog (Maggie).  Although today is our final full day here, it has been a week of simple R&R with no structured timetable. 

• During this week, I’ve kick-started my walking again, which was off to a sluggish beginning following the harsh Winter we experienced.  I’ve definitely felt celebratory logging the miles along the beach road in front of the house.

• Looking at “the big picture,” I have to say that, although I love being at the beach, I don’t loathe the thought of returning to our everyday life.  How many people these days can really say they enjoy their work, their house/home and their environment?  Most full-time RVers like us, probably, but out in the general population . . . those folks in the “rat race” running on that little wheel day after day?  There is much – oh so much – to be said for “dropping out,” ridding oneself of all the material baggage and living a simplified life with more focus on simply be-ing. 

Oh yeah, baby, let’s celebrate!

Join me here each Friday and share what you’re celebrating in the comments!

Just Yesterday . . .

 

Just yesterday I saw the first palm trees as we got near Harlingen and thought, “I get to see Karen soon!”  It was the same every Thanksgiving during my childhood.

Just yesterday you put me on a see-saw for the first time in my life.  I was scared, but you assured me you would not let me fall.  I didn’t fall.  I soared.

Just yesterday, I got to go barefoot for the first time because you were. 

Just yesterday at one of those Thanksgiving family gatherings we hid around the corner from the living room where the grown-ups were having coffee . . . and you tossed that little rubber frog into the room . . . it missed by this much landing in someone’s coffee cup!

Just yesterday I saw static electricity sparks for the first time when you showed me how that happens with a blanket. 

Just yesterday you took me to a skating rink with your boyfriend at the time, Ken.  You were such a talented skater, fearless and graceful.  Patient and reassuring, you stayed right with me, making sure I didn’t fall and that I had fun. 

Skating in Corpus Christi, 1967

Just yesterday I was flower girl in your wedding. 

Just yesterday you and I met where our parents were camping in Texas.  I was a freshman in college.  Your marriage was rocky.  It was the first time we spent together as adults.  We snuck off into the woods and got silly.  We sat with our parents by the campfire, still silly.  Hey, it was the late 70s, and lots of people were “silly.”  My Mom suddenly declared she had “the munchies.”  You and I snuck a glance at each other and stifled our laughter.  Mom.  She had no idea . . .  We talked, heart-to-heart, about our lives.  We laughed.  We hugged.  We loved.

Martin B. Dies State Park, Texas, 1977/1978

Just yesterday your beloved Dee passed away.  It was 2001.  I was still not 100% recovered from my breast cancer surgery, but I came to Nacogdoches to be with you until your parents could travel down from Minnesota.  I had told you, “When it’s time, call me and I’ll come.”  You called and I came. 

My fave photo of Karen and Dee

Just yesterday you and our mutual cousin Kenny came to my Brenham home one of the first weekends after my marriage dissolved in 2002.  You and he helped me with some home projects.  We were silly.  We worked a jigsaw puzzle.  We sat up until almost dawn in my living room talking, a slumber party of cousins.  It was the first time the three of us were together as adults.  You and Kenny offered the support only family can give.  We laughed, oh man, did we laugh.  Yep, we were silly.  We hugged.  We loved.

Just yesterday you fulfilled a dream and became an accomplished motorcyclist, owning not just one but two motorcycles.  You rocked, “Tree Frog”!  You made so many new friends and did an amazing amount of charity work.

Karen and “Mystic”

Just yesterday it was Christmas 2004, and you were spending it with me in Brenham.  It was the only Christmas we shared.  We found kazoos in an old-time toy store and played Christmas carols.  We drooled over Sean Connery in a James Bond movie marathon.  You were there Christmas Eve when my beloved Scotsman, Dave, called me for the first time.

Just yesterday it was 2007, and you came to Mom’s life celebration in Brenham.  Your presence helped me keep it together and make it through the day.

Together in Lufkin, TX – October 2008

Just yesterday it was February 2009.  I pulled our travel trailer solo to Waco,  where you were undergoing chemotherapy.  You and I had one entire day together, just the two of us.  I drove you around to run a few errands.  You introduced me to people as your “baby sister,” and then explained we were cousins but you considered me your younger sister.  I was so honored.  We laughed until we cried and cried until there was nothing left to do but laugh.  We talked.  You talked and I listened.  You told me about the first time you saw me when I was a baby in a crib, how from that moment you loved me and wanted to protect me.  We left nothing unsaid, nothing not shared.  We held each other.  We loved.

At the campground in Waco, the last time Karen and I spent time alone together, just to “be,” as we called our times together.

Just yesterday the three cousins, along with Dave, Janna and Terry, were reunited at a campground near your Texas home.  It was the second and final time the three of us would be together.  The chemotherapy had failed and your doctors had recommended hospice.  An independent and strong Spirit as always, you drove yourself to the campground and stayed several hours.  As night fell, we wrapped you in a blanket by the campfire.  I remember you became quiet, just gazing at each of us, smiling.  We basked in your loving presence.

Me, Karen and Kenny

Just yesterday I told you that if you needed to go before Dave and I returned from our holiday to Scotland, it was okay.  It was May 2009.  You said, no, you would wait.  I said I would call you every day from Scotland.

I called you every day.

You waited.

Just yesterday Janna told me it was time for me to come.  “Tell Karen I’m on my way.”   I would be pulling our travel trailer solo back to the campground, and told Janna not to call me during those three hours while I was on the road if you should go.  I arrived at the campground and called Janna.

“Our baby’s gone.”

Just yesterday it was time for your service.  You had asked Dave to wear his kilt, and he did.  You had requested your biker friends to wear their colors, and they did.  One of your friends dyed his beard green, the color of frogs, your favorite color.  You knew how I felt about funerals and had told me it would be okay if I did not attend.  Before we left for Scotland, I had written you a letter; you wanted it read at your service.  They were my words to you; I needed to be the one to speak them.  I held it together during the service, but was the first person out to the parking lot afterwards.  I stood out of sight beside our Tahoe and . . . lost it.  I could not let your elderly parents – so shattered and frail-appearing - who were also like parents to me, see me give in to the depths of my grief.  I needed to be alone those few minutes.

Just a few of the bikes at the funeral.  There were many more.  I know Karen heard the roar of all those engines as the bikers left en masse.

Just yesterday I heard a tree frog and felt your presence, knowing you were watching over me even now.  “Hi cuz!  Thanks for stopping by!  I’m doing okay!  Love you!”

“Karen’s Bench” on the camping property of her motorcycle club.  Her biker name was “Tree Frog.”

Just yesterday awaiting the biopsy results during my cancer experience in 2012, I realized I did not fear Death.  I know you have again blazed the trail ahead for me and that, when my time comes, you will be waiting and I’ll hear you say,  “Hey kiddo!  Let’s go!”

Just yesterday I played the word “lei” in Words with Friends against Dave.  That word reminded me of the time you came to Brenham to share the Relay for Life weekend.  I walked the survivor lap.  We prowled the team booths, one of which was a Hawaiian theme.  We each bought a lei for a buck and then proclaimed we got “lei’d”       at the Relay for Life.  Silly girls.  We lit a luminaire for Dee and sat quietly on the ground next to it during the memorial service, hand in hand. 

Just yesterday I realized May 26 this year will mark five years since you left this Earth.  I wondered why that memory last night was so vivid and so strong.

I still feel the love – unconditional, never judgmental, always straight-on and uplifting – you gave me . . . you give me still.

Every moment together, every memory shared - it all feels like it was . . .

Just yesterday.

Thanks for stopping by!

Addendum:  After publishing this entry, I stepped outside.  The rain had just ended and I saw this . . .

See that black speck to the left of the stack above the rainbow?  That’s a bald eagle.  Love is a powerful thing, yes?