Tag Archive | young

The Words…

breast cancer thirties 30s 30's dog dogs wiener german shepard stage 3c young kids family miniature dachshund summer jeep

Last ride of the summer with the boys & my pups…

I’m going to try something new here.  Rather than focus on a premeditated topic, I am just going to write.  Crazy, huh?

You could say writing was an activity I once loved, but this wouldn’t be altogether accurate.  Sure, as a child/teenager/young adult I enjoyed it on a level that seemed foreign to some of my peers.  Was I passionate about it?  Of course.  But it was more than this.  Writing was almost akin to eating or taking a breath for me.  It was something I had to do to survive.

I know I sound like an idiot.  Obviously you can’t live without eating (though God knows I’ve pushed these limits in the past) or taking a breath.  Not writing can’t possibly be as perilous for one’s body as trying to survive without food or oxygen, of course.  But it was my soul that would cling feverishly to this outlet.

What I’m trying to tell you is that writing was something I needed to do.  It was strangely painful to not write.  It was as if the words needed a place to go and if I didn’t let them out, they would build up inside me until I felt emotional pain.  Physical distress.

Writing was my coping mechanism.  My escape.  My salvation.

I needed to write the words that flowed from my mind, my heart, through my once capable young hands.  And, equally, the words needed me to set them free.

breast cancer thirties 30s 30's young Salvador Dali tree museum tampa florida wish young stage 3c IIIc ribbons

The Dali Wish Tree: “This wish tree, streaming with ribbons, carries the wishes of our visitors and community. We invite you to contribute a wish to the tree, and to be part of the cultural tradition that extends back to Hindu and Scottish rites. In all its forms, the wish tree invites and holds our fond hopes.” [Photographed during our lovely visit to The Dali Museum in Florida (with & thanks to jme & bryan), just before we added our wishes, our words, to the tree’s hope-laden branches.]

But somewhere along the way, this relationship changed.  Life changed.  My desire/need (or whatever it was?) to write is not like this anymore {or that’s what I like to tell myself, at least}.  At some point, writing became an obligation, a job, a necessity of another sort.  And the words that once needed to break free from my mind, my soul, were trapped inside.  Bottled up.  Locked away.  Dusty and hidden, but not quite forgotten.

I hadn’t thought about this in ages.  Until just a few minutes ago, that is, when I found myself once again thinking about stopping here to read your kind words and to tackle one of the tens/hundreds of cancer-y topics I have swirling around in my brain, topics that I feel should be addressed in these “pages” because of their importance.

And, once again, I thought about closing my blog tab in an attempt to forget about writing until the next time I’d find myself in front of the computer screen.   Yes, the next time, when I could once again procrastinate and put off tackling the weighty topics I know should be addressed, topics that I will likely continue to attempt to deal with despite the gnawing pain that emanates from the words trapped inside my soul, the words that long to be set free.

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Morgan

breast cancer thirties family 3c dog weiner weenie doxie dachshund 30s

Me, Mom, and Weenie Chillin’

 

Hi my name is Morgan my mom was diagnosed with stage 3C breast cancer when I was in kindergarten.  As you may know I wrote a post when I was 8. I am now 11 in fifth grade and she has had cancer for about 5 years.  When I look back it tells me my mom is STRONG.(of course I already thought that). She has fought this long and I will always love her in the present and the future.

THANK YOU, MORGAN

 

🙂   ❤    😉      ❤    ❤   ❤   🙂

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Hello Again…

Safari

Hello dear readers…

Once again I am returning with a photo post after a long hiatus.  I know it is not the ideal way to manage a blog, but it seems to be what I need to do for the time being.

Though this used to stress me out, I am learning to let go a little.  And that is because of you.  From the comments I’ve received from so many of you, I have found that you are forgiving of my infrequent visits and that you’ve even embraced them.  What a lucky girl I am to be able to stop in with some photos of my spirited little boys and my quirky canines and know that you will be here to welcome me back with open arms, to know that you will celebrate the good moments in my life, and to take comfort in the fact that you will offer words of kindness when times are tough.

The past few weeks have been a bit of a mixed bag.  I began to follow up with those of you who left comments on my last post to let you know that the thickening in my chest was likely swelling compliments of the lymphedema that has made its way beyond my arms and into the area where my breasts once were, but I never formally posted about my appointment.  It was a bit of a blow to discover that it was likely an extension of the lymphedema, but MUCH less of a blow than a cancer recurrence would have been.  It’s amazing how cancer puts everything into perspective!  I never would have thought there would be a circumstance in which I’d “welcome” an advancement of my lymphedema, but here I am!

[If you would like to know more about what lymphedema is, what causes it and how it is managed, stay tuned — I’m working on a post that will deal with this important topic.]

Just after that last post, pneumonia came knocking and, as you can imagine, it has been difficult to come back from.  On a positive note, though, I had a nice Thanksgiving break with the boys.  I spent most of Thanksgiving day preparing a turkey with all of the fixings.  I was pretty exhausted, but I’ve always enjoyed roasting the turkey and making Thanksgiving-y foods, so it was a labor of love.  Still, the day itself was a bit sad.  It was an unusually quiet holiday this year.  My in-laws had just gotten on a plane that morning and we had visited them night before, so we weren’t going to be going to their house on Thanksgiving Day.  And we were also not honoring the tradition of spending the other half of the day with my side of the family (usually at my aunt and uncle’s home) because we were missing some very important members this year.  I lost my youngest sister to the Alaskan wilderness (and her Alaskan boyfriend) when she packed her suitcase and got on the plane for a 5-day trip to Willow, AK in February.  5 days has stretched into 10 months because she has yet to return!  And the sister who had always been within minutes of me since she came home from the hospital when I was two years old, moved to Virginia to follow her/our dream to be near the sea.   She and my brother-in-law and my only niece and nephews hugged us goodbye as they drove away in their minivan and a big moving van during the first week of July.  And, sadly, they have not been back and my husband will not allow us to go to visit them (which the boys and I were pushing our hardest to do over the long Thanksgiving school break).  That leaves one sister [I am the oldest of four], but she and her husband [who is not a giant meanie like mine] went down to VA to spend Thanksgiving with my sister/BIL and the kids.  So it was VERY quiet.  My mother came over to eat with us and brought her little Yorkie.  The boys helped me decorate the table with our Halloween lights so we dined by the lovely saffron glow of the twinkly pumpkins we’ve collected over the years.

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving

Then on Saturday and Sunday we took a quick little road trip to Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  Though the kids did their best to cajole my husband into allowing us to go to Virginia to seem my family, he made it clear that it would not happen now or ever, so we ended up “compromising” with Pittsburgh.  We had never been there but had heard that the city had a wonderful children’s museum and science center, both of which we have free admission to because of a reciprocal partnership between our local science center and other museums around the country (including those in Pittsburgh), and we also had a free hotel stay there.  Though the boys and I were sad about VA, we knew that it wouldn’t help to be upset about it, so we were determined to enjoy the weekend.  Though I would have been content to spend another “sick” weekend curled up under the blankets with the boys and dogs, I was the only one who would have gone for this over the long Thanksgiving weekend because the “sick” weekends had just been piling up with no end in sight.

Though it was tiring, I am glad we did it.  As it turned out, I had plenty of time to rest.   We only spent a few hours at the Children’s Museum on Saturday and then The Carnegie Science Center on Sunday, and we got home fairly early on Sunday.  And I just read during the roundtrip drive.  The hotel also provided board games, so we played Sorry! after the museum closed at 5 on Saturday, and then I was in bed by 9.  It was actually pretty relaxing.  At home, unless I am pretty sick, I have a hard time with giving myself permission to really rest.  For some reason it was much easier to do this while in another city or during the long car ride.   And the Children’s Museum was excellent.  There were plenty of activities to keep the boys engaged.  Our favorite section was an art annex of sorts.  The boys and I sat for ages at a long table cutting shapes that they could take up to a screen printing station where our designs would be printed.  I did the cutting and they would take the shapes up to be printed.  We made a nice stack of art that we plan to decorate their room with.  They loved the idea of stringing the pictures we made up on a long twine clothesline with old clothes pegs that were once my grandmother’s.  That will be our next project!

William enjoying one of the activities at The Carnegie Science Center in Pittsburgh, PA

William enjoying one of the activities at The Carnegie Science Center in Pittsburgh, PA

The Science Center was a bit more difficult for me.  But there was plenty to keep the boys busy.  And there were a plethora of benches and even some comfy chairs for me to sit in and even lie down on!  It really was chock-full of activities and displays.  We were even able to enjoy a star show (also free!) in their cozy planetarium chairs, located right inside the science center.  And the boys participated in some cooking demonstrations (free, too — and with samples!) in the “kitchen” section of the center.  Yum!

Yay! for The Carnegie Science Center's comfy chairs!

Yay! for The Carnegie Science Center’s comfy chairs!

And then we were back home to our dogs Sunday night, and I was back in to the hospital Monday morning to start off a full schedule of medical appointments this week.  But it was nice to have a change of scenery for a weekend!

Wow, I’ve written far more than I intended and I haven’t even gotten to the photo challenge yet!  Rather than muddle the photos up with all of these words (which have little/nothing to do with the challenge!), I’ll post a separate photo challenge entry in a minute.  I’ll also be requesting your help with a little something in the next post…

See you in a few…

Why I Can’t Wait for My Colonoscopy

Photo Credit: abcnews.go.com

Photo Credit: abcnews.go.com

You’re probably wondering what’s wrong with me.  Why would anyone in their right mind look forward to a colonoscopy?

It’s simple.  I can’t wait for the “prep” to be over.  But it may not be for the reason you are thinking…

Of course the prep itself is rotten.  It has been three days since a morsel of food has crossed my lips.  And drinking this God-awful stuff that wrenches your insides and makes you feel as though you are tethered to toilet is no picnic.  And because Palliative Care (see Palliative Care at 30-Something: What Does it Mean? Part I and Part II) has me on around-the-clock opiates, I was required to do the “Extended Preparation” which includes “extra” days of not eating and of a clear liquid diet, a few different types of unpleasant liquid solutions that make you “go” with extreme urgency, pills that also make you “go,” and enemas.  Did I mention I’ve gone 3 days without eating any food and have been consuming only clear liquids?**  Can you tell this one is getting to me

Photo Credit:  pregnancy.lovetoknow.com

Photo Credit: pregnancy.lovetoknow.com

Right now I’m trying to drink the last 4 liters of yucky stuff from the pharmacy in the prescribed 3 hours, but I can’t keep it down.  I have been vomiting so much that I’m not sure there is anymore liquid to throw up — until I throw up again.  I stop drinking entirely this afternoon.  And then I have to give myself 2 enemas in the 2 hours before the procedure, holding the contents of the enema bottles “in” for 15 minutes per bottle before I can go to the bathroom.

If you’ve ever had a colonoscopy, you are probably nodding your head now.  You know how rotten the prequel to this procedure can be.  Or maybe you’ve blocked it out of your mind and forgotten?  If so, I’m sorry for reminding you.

I must admit that I had forgotten.  Tucked the memories of my last “clean out” neatly away in my brain.

Okay, really what happened was that they were replaced by much more traumatic scenes. The last time I did this it wasn’t for a colonoscopy — I honestly can’t recall my last one, let alone the prep.  I just remember waking up shocked that I was dressed and asking who had put my underwear back on.  The answer was “me,” but I was so out of it from the anesthesia that I had no recollection of the day’s events.  Sounds like spring break gone bad!

No the last “prep” of this kind that I am talking about was for my hysterectomy and salpingo-oopherectomy last year.

It’s no wonder the prep is not what I recall about the events leading up to this surgery.  I had complex pelvic masses.  One was so large that you could feel it when you touched my belly.

I needed to have my right ovary removed the day after Halloween two years ago thanks to the side effects of Tamoxifen* [see below].   The ovary was filled with a crap-ton (urbandictionary.com defines a crap-ton as “4 shit loads”) of septated cysts.

And here I was facing the prospect of losing my remaining ovary and my uterus.  At the age of 35.

A part of me wanted to be sure of what they were seeing before I went under the knife again.  This was the part that didn’t want to have to go through another major surgery and recovery.  And this was the part that was still holding on to the hope of giving birth to a little girl, the daughter I had dreamed of having from the time I was a little girl myself.  It was also the part that wanted to be absolutely sure of what they were seeing before I let them cut into me again.  And this was the part of me that was just tired of all of the cancer crap.

And then there was the part of me that wanted to shake some sense into the aforementioned part.  This was the part of me that, after each scan or exam, grew more and more fearful that what I might be dealing with was ovarian cancer [breast cancer increases this risk], or ovarian mets (metastasis) from the breast cancer to the ovaries.  I was also dealing with the concern that I could have a new primary cancer in my uterus.  I say a new primary rather than a metastasis in this case because Tamoxifen upped my risk of developing uterine cancer.  “Tamoxifen acts as an anti-estrogen in breast tissue, but it acts like an estrogen in the uterus. It can cause the uterine lining to grow, which increases the risk of endometrial cancer.” [Source: cancer.org]

In a short period of time I had multiple gyn exams, transvaginal and abdominal ultrasounds, an MRI, and a CAT scan.  Each of these tests confirmed the presence of these complex masses.  And they were growing.

At my last ultrasound appointment, the technician asked me to stay on the exam table while she went for the doctor.  When they came into the room together, my doctor told me that I needed to go to the hospital immediately, and she sent me to the emergency room.  I remember scrambling because it was a Tuesday afternoon and I didn’t know how long I would be in the hospital, but I knew it would be long enough that I would need to find somebody to pick my boys up from elementary school.

Another CAT scan was performed in the Emergency Room.  It didn’t look good.  The thought that these masses could be ovarian mets or ovarian cancer scared the hell out of me.  And there wasn’t really a decision to be made.

After meeting with the leading GYN oncologist in our area, my surgery was scheduled for the next week.

But a part of me wondered if there was any way out of this.

And then I began hemorrhaging just before my surgery.  There was so much blood.  I remember trying to get into the shower before an appointment.  It was just a few steps from where I disrobed to the shower, and just with those few steps, I managed to cover the floor with a large pool of blood.  I was as pale as a ghost.  And I felt like I was a stone’s throw from becoming one.

When I went in to see my regular gyn, she was clearly concerned that this was further evidence that I might have uterine cancer.  She did a biopsy that day and prescribed drugs that would help to lessen the bleeding until my surgery.  They didn’t really help, so I was almost “thankful” that my hysterectomy was just around the corner.

My gyn oncologist removed everything that was left of my female parts, with the exception of the one that starts with a “V,” but even “it” did not come out unscathed.   Since he took my cervix, the surgeon had to use the top of the vagina to create what’s known as a “vaginal cuff.”

Though I had signed all of the consents prior to my surgery, including the special one you have to sign when you are of childbearing age (indicating that you understand that you are undergoing surgical sterilization), I was still shocked to wake up to find that everything was gone.  Everything.

I spent 4 days in the hospital after the surgery.  It was a difficult 4 days, emotionally and physically.  I required blood.  I needed enemas and catheterization.

I could barely get out of the hospital bed, let alone make it down the hall — for days.  {The blood transfusions helped with this, thankfully.}

And I had a massive migraine.  As a chronic migraine sufferer, I am no stranger to headaches.  But this was worse than any headache I had ever experienced.  The consensus was that the cause was linked to the fact that my estrogen levels had soared in the year before my surgery, and then, suddenly, plummeted as a result of the surgery.  And nothing would alleviate the pain.  Not the morphine drip, not the oxicodone or the oxycontin, not the dilaudid.  Nothing.  I needed my hormones back.

A normally positive person who tries to see the good in everything, I lay in that bed, broken and empty, as I awaited the pathology report.  I felt as though I was a shadow of my pre-cancer self.  I pictured Hansel and Gretel walking on that path through they woods, leaving bits of bread behind so they could find their way back home.  I had been leaving bits and pieces of myself behind on the long and winding road since my diagnosis.  But I knew I would never find my way back home.

So doing this “colon prep” has been especially difficult.  Not just because it’s physically rough, but because it has made the memories of my hysterectomy flood back through gates I had sealed shut soon after the surgery.  As the old saying goes, “Denial (The Nile) ain’t just a river in Egypt.”

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There is more to this story.  But I will have to save the remainder until I am feeling better.  Thank you for reading…

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*Tamoxifen is an antagonist of the estrogen receptor in breast tissue via its activemetabolite, hydroxytamoxifen. In other tissues such as the endometrium, it behaves as anagonist, and thus may be characterized as a mixed agonist/antagonist. Tamoxifen is the usual endocrine (anti-estrogen) therapy for hormone receptor-positive breast cancer in pre-menopausal women, and is also a standard in post-menopausal women althougharomatase inhibitors are also frequently used in that setting.[1]

Some breast cancer cells require estrogen to grow. Estrogen binds to and activates the estrogen receptor in these cells. Tamoxifen is metabolized into compounds that also bind to the estrogen receptor but do not activate it. Because of this competitive antagonism, tamoxifen acts like a key broken off in the lock that prevents any other key from being inserted, preventing estrogen from binding to its receptor.

[Thank you, Wikipedia, for this Tamoxifen info!]

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**In case you are interested, here’s the list of approved clear liquids:  water, Sprite, apple or white cranberry juice, clear or yellow Gatorade/Powerade, chicken broth (nothing in it — NO beef broth), black coffee/tea (no milk or cream), Jell-O (yellow, orange, green only), or popsicles (not red or purple).

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P.S.  As much as I’ve struggled with the prep, I know it’s worth it.  IWith symptoms like pain and rectal bleeding (and with my cancer history), I know it’s better to do this than risk the alternative.  Please don’t let my post deter you from having a colonoscopy.  The “extended prep” is usually not necessary, and the procedure and the prep are over before you know it (and I think my reaction to it is rare?).  They are also far easier than dealing with cancer would be.  So please follow the recommended screening guidelines and do this important test (generally beginning at age 50).  In some cases (like mine), a colonoscopy may be necessary before you turn 50 (or in between the recommended 10 year gap from screening to screening).  If you have a family history of colon cancer or if, like me, you are experiencing issues (i.e. rectal bleeding or a change in bowel habits), please consult your doctor to see if you are in need of a colonoscopy.

“Almost all colorectal cancers begin as a small polyp. If a polyp is found during colonoscopy, it will be removed and this prevents the polyp from every turning into cancer. But if you don’t have your colonoscopy in the first place, then you are throwing away the chance to detect polyps when they are easily treated.” [http://www.columbiasurgery.net/five-reasons-not-to-get-colonoscopy]

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Weekly Photo Challenge: From Lines to Patterns — Prelude to Toplessness

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As I was assembling photos for this week’s photo challenge, I stumbled across a file filled with photos from September 2010.  It was three years ago this month.

It’s safe to say that the dusty manila icon on my computer screen stopped me in my tracks.

It was filled with good memories from our trip to Florida with jme and my mom.  It was an important trip for many reasons.

I learned that I had cancer that April and had been having a horrible time with chemo ever since.  So when I finally had a break from the Adriamycin, Cytoxan, Taxol and Herceptin, we found some supercheap last minute plane tickets and I threw our clothes in a suitcase.  We were off with just a day or two’s notice.  This was my attempt at finding the spontaneity I’d been told The Big C endows you with.

I remember being supersick but grateful to be there.

Especially because of what was looming over my head.  Other than the cancer thing, of course.  What loomed, large as life, was the fact that I would be returning home the day before the surgery I had been anticipating since April.  It was time for my bilateral mastectomy and complete axillary node dissection.  My tumors had finally shrunk enough to make my formerly “inoperable” cancer “operable.”

I’m explaining all of this because I looked at the shots of superbald me smiling next to my family in Treasure Island, Florida, and I was filled with the same sense of dread that plagued me on that trip each time I stopped to consider my reality.

And then I skipped ahead one image too far and saw myself in the hospital bed.  Days after my surgery.  Showing my bruised body and bandages and blood-filled drains to the camera with a vacant look in my blue eyes.

For all the time I’ve spent in hospitals, there aren’t that many photos of me within their walls.  But I recall thinking that it would be important for me to have some photos from my weeklong post-surgical stay — in case I ever wanted to document my experience in some way.  There are only a handful of photos, but there are enough to make me swallow hard.  Pictures of me with bandages, and some without, as I look at my incisions for the first time.

Fast forward three years and here we are.  I have this blog, this platform, and I think I am ready to share.

But not just yet…

I still need a day or so to wrap my head around what I am about to show you before I post the images.  And, who knows, maybe I won’t be able to post all of them?  Maybe it will be too much for typically modest me?  I truly hope not, because I think this is an important part of my story.  An important reality that needs to be shared to blow a hole in all that pink frilly nonsense that makes breast cancer seem less serious, less deadly, less disfiguring.

So please bear with me as I summon the courage to post this pivotal piece of my story.

In the meantime I will lighten the mood with this week’s challenge photos.  Titled “From Lines to Patterns,” this challenge tasks us with interpreting lines and patterns through the camera lens:

“We see lines and patterns in the world around us, in nature and things man-made. Sometimes we don’t realize they’re there: on the street, across the walls, up in the sky, and along the ground on which we walk.  So…grab your camera, get outside, and snap a great shot of shapes or lines that you stumble upon, or a cool texture or pattern that catches your eye.”

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cancerinmythirties.wordpress.com breast cancer thirties 30's 30s color weekly photo challenge daily post

cancerinmythirties@wordpress.com cancer breast cancer thirties 30s 30's twins

My little W

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“Under Construction” — Spring 2007 — I’m wearing the same clothes I was wearing in this photo right now! (But the pants are tighter!)

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The beginning of Autumn at the Christmas tree farm

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M climbing the giant web

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Stripes and patterns: Max, our Leopard gecko, was a gift for my 20th birthday. In her younger years she was a vibrantly-colored patterned beauty (for a reptile, anyway!). This was her last picture — she died of old (15 years!) age later than night.

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My Mam’s “Fancy Jell-O”

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NYC

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Thank you for visiting, for looking at this hodgepodge of photos, and for standing by me as I share my story.  I am a grateful girl.

See you soon…

P.S. To participate in The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge, just click here or here.

Today is My 1st Birthday…My Blog’s 1st Birthday, That is!

The twins asked for matching Angry Bird birthday cakes, so I made 6 cakes in a matter of a week.  Two blue, three red, and one yellow Angry Bird.  This was my fave -- a lemon cake, even though I am a chocolate girl!

The twins asked for matching Angry Bird birthday cakes, so I made 6 cakes in a matter of a week. Two blue, three red, and one yellow Angry Bird. This was my fave — a lemon cake, even though I am a chocolate girl!

Yep, today is my first blogoversary!

It has been one year since I first entered the blogosphere.  One year since my very first post, Yep, I’m a Cancer Patient.  One year since I first sent my thoughts out into world for everyone to see.

The thing is, I never expected anyone to see them. I didn’t tell anyone about my blog or where to find it.  So I thought no one would.  I thought this blog would just be an online diary of sorts, a memoir for my kids.

And that’s it.

To this day there are only a handful of people in my offline life who know about it.  I almost said in my “real” life.  But that wouldn’t be fair to you or to my blog.  What you are seeing, what you are reading, is my “real life.” In fact, you, dear reader, have been privy to more of my experiences and thoughts than most people in my “life-life.”

With you I have shared my joys and my sadness. My valleys, my peaks.  The waiting.  The worrying.  The hope.  The FEAR.  The beautiful.  The ugly.  The pain.  The LOSS.

And so much more.

You’ve laughed with me and cried with me.

Your beautiful comments have helped me celebrate the good moments — and have lifted me up through the most difficult times.

Took this photo at the boys'  District Art Show.  The quote says:  "My life would not be complete without my friends and family. I don't know what I would do without them all."

Took this photo at the boys’ District Art Show. The quote says: “My life would not be complete without my friends and family. I don’t know what I would do without them all.”

So it is you who deserves a celebration on my blogoversary.  It is you who has spurred me along and encouraged me to write and to share, when I felt like it — and when I didn’t.

And it is you who deserves my gratitude.  Thank you for reading, liking (even when some of the content seemed unlikable!), commenting, following and sharing…

I feel like a VERY lucky girl!!  Well, aside from the cancer thing, of course!  😉

If this is your first visit, welcome — and click HERE for a good place to start.

First anniversary stats for those of you who like math:

-226 wonderful followers

-15,300 views

-1,100 (exactly!) comments

-95 posts

And cake, for those of you who prefer baked goods!

I asked the boys if I could share their cakes with you and they said, "Of course!"  They looked at me like I was nuts, but they were happy to give you all cake!

I asked the boys if I could share their cakes with you and they said, “Of course!” They looked at me like I was nuts, but they were happy to give you all cake!

THANK YOU!

Weekly Photo Challenge: Fleeting — “Not Enough Time”

I know my response to last week’s photo challenge was far from pretty.  But I appreciated the comments I received and I was grateful for everyone who encouraged me to continue to share the truth of my story.

Cheri Lucas Rowlands of The Daily Post posed the theme “Fleeting” for the current Weekly Photo Challenge.  Naturally, my thoughts turned to the fleeting nature of life itself.  I got to thinking about how we are on this earth only briefly, and of how we have such a limited time before our bodies turn to dust and the memories we spent a lifetime making soon begin to fade.

So for the challenge this week I’ve decided to tackle the fleeting nature of life.  But to make it far less morose, I am going to focus on childhood and how quickly those precious years pass.  I say “far less” because I am still going to sprinkle a few cancer-y photos in the mix.

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As always, thank you for visiting.  And if you’d like to participate in the challenge, just click here.