Writing With A Purpose

 Unbelievably, my first post on this blog was dated January 5, 2008. My last printed post blog post was dated Friday, October 13, 2017. Today, encouraged by my son, Torrie, I changed the title of this blog from “Eighteen Years of Pink” to “Twenty three Years of Pink”. I am in awe just writing that! I asked my son’s girlfriend, Chloe, (a voracious reader and writer) to go back to the beginning of my blog and read it and provide me with any feedback that she might have, because for years, I have believed that I have a story worth telling, writing and sharing with others, but have hit a wall as to how to format my story. I have never gone back and read my blog posts after publishing them to the internet. I have always feared that by going back and reading the posts, that I might stir up a hornet’s nest of anxiety and/or depression that I might not be able to remove myself from. However, after this past holiday season, I felt a very strong pull to do exactly that…to go back and read my posts and work through the feelings that may arise from doing so. While reading some of the posts, I actually experienced the opposite of anxiety or depression, I found myself in a place of peace, calm, and mostly, gratitude. Some of the posts seemed to me like they were written by another person. I found myself reading them like I was a complete stranger to my situation, and found myself cheering on this woman! For the first time, I actually had a vision as to how to format the memoir that I have felt compelled to write. I shared my feelings with some friends and family members and was enveloped in love and support to take on this project that has been tugging at my heart and soul. 

 I wonder where all the time has gone in the past few years. In the past, I begged God to slow down the passing time so that I could savor each moment. But then a very remarkable thing happened - I allowed myself to become a ‘normal’ person. A person that became caught up in life… caught up in things that consumed time and energy. Caught up in things that didn’t revolve around doctors and hospitals. Caught up in life with its ups and downs, peaks and valleys; but things that  didn’t revolve around me and my health, but that revolved around normal occurrences that happen to a family of four. ‘Normal’ day to day life, with all of its’ joys and heartbreaks, all of its’ rewards and punishments, all of its’ celebrations and all of its’ misery…. For the past few yeas, even though I have been living with Stg.4 Metastatic Breast Cancer, I have lived life like most of my friends - ‘normal’.

Of course, many things have happened to me over the past few years and a lot does have to do with my health. Fortunately, my cancer has been held at bay, but there has been a lot of deterioration of my overall health, due to having had been on continuous chemotherapy for so many years.  My emotional and psychological health has taken the worst beating; I am so thankful that I found the remarkably healing gift of Mindfulness Meditation several years ago. 

In the next several posts, I look forward to working backwards… looking back at the past few years and journaling about them. By writing about the experiences I have faced over these past few years, the process allows me to reflect and continue to construct the framework of my memoir. I welcome any and all feedback, comments, questions, etc. I do hope that you will enjoy being an instrumental part of this journey with me.

Happy New Year, again, thank goodness!

Hold My hand, Please.

As I write this, it is so early in the morning that my pups don't even want to get up yet and are still upstairs sleeping in their bed. It is dark and quiet, no lights are on at any of my neighbor's homes yet.

Today is 'PET Scan Day' and no, it does not have anything to do with my pups. Today is all about cancer; my cancer, and whether or not it has spread again. If I have it or if I don't.

I have undergone so many of these scans over the past 19 years, yet the anxiety beforehand remains so high. I have had many 'good' scans, but those I hardly remember. It is the two scans that were 'not good' that remain embedded in my memory.

'Kim, the cancer has spread." "Kim, the cancer has spread again.'

Today, however, I am not up so early because of a sleepless night, thank goodness. Being a veteran PET scannee, I have figured out exactly the time I need to wake to sneak in a cup of coffee before the dreaded 'nothing to eat or drink' rule comes into effect. I love coffee.

But more importantly, being up this early affords me the luxury of a quiet and still time to meditate and pray. I am able to settle my anxiousness by asking God to extend His right hand and walk with me this morning. He already knows the outcome of my test and its results, so it is up to me to release my fears and walk in faith no matter what the results are.

It is becoming lighter outside as morning begins to break and my heart feels lighter, too.

 Today, I feel well and strong and that is a miracle in itself. I feel strong enough to march myself confidently into the PET scan room...

As long as I can hold onto God's hand.

Guilt: The Worst Symptom Of A Chronic Illness

The envelopes have begun to arrive.

Thick, white envelopes addressed to Kimberly Green - the name I use only for official business like my driver's license, tax returns, and... my health insurance card. I have been dreading their arrival, as I have always dreaded their arrival over the past 19 years. They are summaries of my hospital stay and totals of how much has been submitted to my insurance company for their payment and the total as to which the insurance company has agreed to pay.

Other envelopes arrive as well. Statements and bills from radiologists, anesthesiologists, pharmacies, other specialists that took care of me during my surgery and recovery at the hospital. They have become their own small pile on the corner of my kitchen table. I am reluctant to open them, reluctant to feel the familiar shock from the totals of my care, trying to stay in my denial a bit longer. But they must be opened.

I am both blessed and lucky to have health insurance. We own my policy, meaning that I am not a part of a company plan of any type. We had to buy a policy when the owner of the small business that Ken worked for, for several years, could not afford to provide to us. He was generous though and as a part of Ken's compensation plan paid half of our premium. My insurance premium (I say 'my' because Ken now enjoys Medicare and Tessa has her insurance through her company. So the premium is for just Torrie and me) is astronomical -  more than some college tuitions.  My deductible is also five figures.

But thank God I have health insurance. I pray those people in Washington come up with the right plan if any.

Being flat on my back the past 10 weeks, I have watched television - a lot of television. I have become a news junkie and have immersed myself in the healthcare battle. I feel like I need to be as informed as I can be because if any new plan is put into place that would allow my insurance company to raise my rates anymore due to having cancer, etc. we would no longer be able to afford it. I might not be able to get any other insurance due to pre-existing conditions. I am truly afraid.

And I feel guilty. So much guilt, all of the time.

I must open the envelopes...

And for a 10 day, operating room and 2 days in ICU, my bill is almost $500,000, of which we will be responsible for a significant portion. I don't know how (yet!) we will do this.

I have been blessed with two extremely intelligent children. They have both worked since they were 15 and were recipients of many grants and scholarships by the wonderful Catholic Universities they have and are attending. Both have worked while in school, too. Having them both be able to attend college has been Ken's and my only goal. We have two years left...

I have been blessed with a wonderful, loving community that has helped us in so many generous ways. My wish is to be able to reciprocate in some way. I want to get back to my little studio. I need to get back to my little studio or I fear I will not be able to afford to keep it. I have not made a dime off of it yet, but while I've been there leading meditation and running the boutique it has been wonderful. I feel that it has so much potential. There's the guilt again; not being able to help Ken support our family.

Ken.

My sweet, loving husband that has never left me during all of this. Who right now is out driving for Uber, still in pain from his broken collarbone. Because he must. Because we need the income. And yet he still kisses me goodbye and tells me that he doesn't love me, he's 'in love' with me. Still.

In 2015, I spent more than 40 days in Yale Hospital with MRSA that I contracted in surgery. He drove the 1-1/2 hour trip each day and never left my side. He worked from my bedside. I recovered and came home and his reward was being laid off. Was it because of me and being with me while I was so sick? Was it because his boss didn't want to pay half of our ever-increasing premium? More guilt.

To pay the astronomical bills from that hospital stay, he sold our beloved home in Newport. Our family spent countless hours on the beach there, the kids grew up with wonderful summers. Ken proposed to me there and we were married there. It was our escape. Ken had owned the house for several years before we married, he loved that house so much. He never once told me it was my fault because of all of our bills. I told myself it was my fault enough for the both of us.

In 2016, I found myself feeling very good and decided to open my little studio Mindfulness and Matters. I grand opened on September 7 and then on September 15 was hospitalized with a terrible infection that had unknowingly been brewing. I was in the hospital a couple of weeks. The infection left me with a drain in my abdomen that had to be checked and moved weekly (under anesthesia) for months. I was finally able to return to work in late November. So in early 2017, we did the only thing we could do to get on top of the bills... we sold our home of 20 years. Much more guilt.

This recovery has not only been brutal (my surgeon explained it will be upwards of 10 months for me to feel halfway normal) physically, but it has been especially brutal emotionally. I have suffered from anxiety/depression for years and it kicked into high gear when I came home from the hospital the second time. I wanted to be alone, I ignored phone calls and text messages, I didn't want visitors. (If I have not apologized yet to you, I'll get to you!) Fear gripped me and still hasn't let go. How will we pay for all of this? What about our future?

I have let my mind run amok - meditation hasn't even been able to calm it. All of this money that has been spent on me and me not able to contribute weighs on me like a ton of bricks. Bankruptcy? The money that we pay towards these enormous bills is a drop in the bucket and its money we NEED for rent, insurance, tuition, etc. Blah, blah, blah.

Where is my faith? All of the miracles that God has given me, why would I doubt that he would not provide now? In the direst times, He has always given us just what we needed and I know He will again. I read a few days ago that God wants us to feel safe to rant to Him and perhaps that is what this post is all about. I'm ranting and pouting like a child, but I know He understands.

And right now, God is probably shaking His head and smiling at me saying "oh Kim of little faith, wait for it. Don't give up before the miracle. I am always with you".

And I know in my heart He is.

Namaste,
Kim

Perspective

I know when true healing is beginning to happen in my body when I have 100 things on my mind that I would like to do, but my body says "Nope, ain't happening." Before true healing has begun, I am perfectly content to lie in the bed to the point that days blur together and my sleep cycle is mangled. Of course,  that is partly the medication's job, to make you rest and heal. But then you stop needing much medication and you want to jump up and join back in life.

It has been 7 weeks since the original surgery and 30 days since the second surgery for the abscess and insertion of the drain. During that time, Tessa moved to NYC for her new job,  Ken was involved in a car accident and Torrie left for his sophomore year at Providence College. I was so disappointed to not be able to go with the kids and help like I have in the past, and I am barely any help to Ken as well. I can't believe how much time has passed because I feel like surgery was about a week ago on the pain meter. And the icing on the cake is this despised drain that is identical to the one I dragged around for 4 months almost precisely a year ago.

My surgeon explained to Ken, my friend Gay and myself the extent of what he found during the 7-1/2 hour surgery. My intestines were so entangled that it took over 2 hours just to untangle and straighten them. He said it is truly a miracle that I never had an obstruction...or worse. There were fragments of old mesh, tacks, and staples left in from previous surgeries. My bladder and intestines had adhered to old mesh that had been left behind. He told us that he'd never seen anything like my mess and with palpable sincerity offered his sympathy for the pain I have been living with.

The kicker though was the fact that my recovery time will be about 10 months. What?! I will be able to drive and get back to the studio in September, but my body was really beaten up and it's going to take time.

As I was lying in the hospital bed that takes up a good portion of our living room this morning, I started thinking (I hadn't moved yet, so no pain). It's so beautiful out, I'd like to go for a walk. I made it through Big Y yesterday, relatively unscathed so I fantasized about a long walk through my neighborhood. I also wanted to get some mums for my deck, etc. Then I moved. Hello, pain. Poof, went most of my plans. I did take the dogs out. They do not understand their new routine of going out one at a time. I can't have them pull on the leash, Ken is the one armed bandit.

So I made a cup of coffee and turned on the morning news. Houston is underwater with so much more rain to come.

Dear God, please forgive me.
Forgive me for pouting about things I cannot do, like take a long walk on this gorgeous day, or plant flowers, or drive a car or clean my house.

Dear God, please be with the people of Houston and the surrounding towns. Many whose not only sidewalks to walk on are submerged, but also their whole homes and cars are too. They have lost everything. Their pain is too great to measure and will last so much longer than 10 months.

I am so blessed and I must continually remind myself of that.
Thank you, God, for all of the blessings you bestow on me each day, so many that I take for granted. Please hold those families in the Houston area in the palm of your hand.

Namaste.
Kim

Mother's Day 2017

Happy Mother's Day!

As I sit here this morning with my four-legged kids and a cup of coffee, I realized how different this Mother's Day is in comparison to those of past. Mainly, Tessa is not here. We will be joining her in a few days to celebrate her graduation from Villanova. I am beyond thrilled! but this is the first Mother's Day morning that I have woken up to and not had my entire family with me. Deep down, I know that as the kids continue to grow, succeed, and carve out lives of their own, there will be fewer and fewer Mother's Days that I wake up to having my children here for breakfast. On one hand, that makes me quite misty, but on the other hand, I am so grateful for the miracle of having been able to celebrate 22 Mother's Days.

I addition to being so grateful, I am really proud, too. Because isn't that the main goal of being a mother? To raise our kids to be strong, determined people that embrace leaving the nest and flying on their own? I love the people my kids have grown up to be. They are brilliant 'old souls'. I call them that because they have experienced so much in their lives already, and those experiences have grounded them and taught them lessons that many people my age haven't even learned yet. I so want to be like them when I grow up!

Our family has been through a lot these past few years. My continuing health battles, a loss of a longtime job and most recently, moving. Through it all, Tessa balanced a busy college life, with coming home and of being an incredible support to me. Torrie kept beautiful grades, excelled at sports and got into the college of his choice. They are amazing people that are able to handle so much. I have no doubt of their successes in the future.

I still have every handmade card the kids gave me. I still have every store bought one, too! I look at them and think of the time and effort that was put into them whether they were crafting them themselves, or picking out the perfect one at the store. They all have handwritten words that I will always cherish. One of my most favorite memories of Mother's Day in the past is that of the wooden pins that say 'Mom' on them that each of them made in kindergarten. One is a watering can, the other a lady bug. Each year, I would alternate which one I would wear to church, and the kids never let me forget which one I had worn the year before. I continued to do this, all the way to high school. the kids rolled their eyes, but deep down I think they really liked it. My pins are still in my jewelry chest. I'm toying with the idea of wearing Tessa's to graduation next weekend.

So I am filled with happy thoughts and memories today, as I hope that all of my friends that are mothers are, too. My heart is sad for mothers I know, that have lost a child and I pray for them for peace and comfort today.

Above all, I thank God for the miracles that He has given me that have allowed me to live this long and to raise my children to be wonderful adults.

Namaste,

Kim

Role Reversal

Since the beginning of the new year, I have incorporated a new book into my morning routine of prayer, meditation, and affirmations. It is a daily workbook that assists a person to see obstacles in their life that may be holding them back from being the person that they, and God, have intended them to be. Needless to say, I have had many obstacles on my road of life and I am more than willing to name them and change them!

Today's exercise was actually a reflection back on the prior week, to acknowledge progress and identify hurdles. I have been keeping a journal with this book and looking back on what I wrote last Sunday, I laughed out loud, at the innocence of what I wanted to happen and the reality that I have no control of what happens.

Tessa had returned to school on the Friday prior, and Ken was set to drive Torrie back to college on Monday - Martin Luther King Day. I wrote that as much as my heart was heavy that the kids would be out of the house, I was ready to get back to a 'normal schedule' of work, etc.  A "normal schedule"... why haven't I yet learned that those 2 words used together to describe my life, will NEVER be words to describe my life?

Leading up to last week, I had not been sleeping well. I had contracted the plague - bronchitis - over the holiday break. The coughing was horrible, especially at 2:30 am. Several nights I scurried downstairs as to not wake up the house during one of these coughing fits, which left me wide awake and thinking... worrying and praying.
About our future...

Ken and I have decided that this is the time to sell our home. For me, not being able to push, pull, lift, shove or twist anything over a gallon of milk means that I can no longer attend to the garden and yard. Ken is so busy trying to make up lost ground from losing his job last year, that he cannot be burdened by yard or snow either. It is time to downsize after twenty years. It is change, and it is so hard. But it must be done and for financial reasons, soon.

So Monday, after Ken returned Torrie to college, we sat crunching numbers for a  conference call with our mortgage broker for the next day. Ken also had to have a second phase of oral surgery for a dental implant that day. Tuesday morning we were both up and out, ready to meet back in the afternoon after his surgery, for the conference call.

Ken arrived home at 12:30 after stopping at CVS for prescriptions related to his oral surgery. Keep in mind, my husband has never had a cup of coffee, can leave a 6-pack of beer untouched in the refrigerator for months or years, and balks at taking a Tylenol. However, looking to the swollen cheek, I highly suggested that he take the dose of medicine he was prescribed for pain before the local anesthetic wore off. He took one pill with Cheerios and a banana at 12:45 and then another dose at 5:45 with a big bowl of mac and cheese. (I always think of the line in the movie Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase "I need to eat, so I can take my back pill!"). At 8:00 pm we were watching TV and he was reading a magazine and was completely fine. I took the pups and went to bed at 9:00 pm, like normal... there's that word again...

I was in that hazy stage of almost being asleep, but still aware of sounds, etc., when I heard a tremendous thump that I thought came from downstairs (Ken loves to snore so I sleep with ear plugs, so the sound and where it came from was distorted). I thought perhaps the cats (yes, we have 2 cats, also) had knocked something over, but the dogs were barking frantically, so I jumped up and ran out of our bedroom to see what had happened.
I opened our bedroom door and saw my worst nightmare...

Ken was laying splayed out on the landing outside of our bedroom. I screamed and ran to him. He was unconscious and totally unresponsive. I shook him and tried to find a pulse. I grabbed the house phone and called 911. The dogs were jumping on him, licking him, trying to get him to wake up... While crying and screaming for him to wake up and listening to the operator, I remembered CPR and began it. I couldn't get him to respond, I was screaming at him and at the operator and I felt the whole world coming down around me... this can't be happening to me... not again... I remembered trying to have my father come back to life after his suicide... caskets... funerals...NO!!!!!

The police arrived within a few minutes and Ken was coughing and mumbling when they got to him. Suddenly, there were so many people in my house, coming in every door. IV's, heart monitor, stretchers. Watching him be lifted down the stairs and out the front door, the Christmas decorations being yanked down and trampled on as they took him to the hospital.

I had to change (my pink Ho Ho Ho pj's needed to be replaced by leggings and a sweatshirt), secure the farm, grab my purse and out I went. Unbelievably, I beat the ambulance to the hospital as they were trying to stabilize Ken. I then had to wait until they brought him in from the ambulance bay and got him transferred and stabilized in the ER. My dear friend, Polly, met me and stayed by my side.

When I was finally able to go into him, he was breathing on his own, but had no idea who I was, could not follow simple commands, and could not speak. He was taken for a CT Scan of the brain and my prayers began, nonstop. Had he had a seizure, a stroke, what? He babbled like he was speaking a different language. Polly ran back to my house to get the phone number of the oral surgeon, and at 12:30 in the morning we spoke. Normal procedure, etc.
What had happened??

As the night progressed, he was being admitted. He could not remember our kid's names, dog's names, etc. He would try to speak but could only get a few words out before babbling again. Tests started to come back and they were coming back with good results. Blood enzymes showed no heart attack. CT scan came back normal. We started to look hard at the pain medicine and possible allergic reaction. He was stable and safe, so at 4:30 am, I left for an hour.

I got back to the house and it was like it had been preserved in time. The TV he had been watching in the den was still on blasting ESPN. The lights were on all over the house. The poor pups didn't know what was going on and why we weren't back snuggling under the comforter.
 It was so eerie.
I didn't like it.
 I sobbed.

My husband, who has had to come home countless times after leaving me in the hospital, was now in the hospital. Did he feel the same way when he used to come home? I was so tired, but I wanted to be right back to see the Drs when they made rounds. So many questions to have answered, I just wanted to close my eyes, so many phone calls to make.

My husband has endured this role for over 18 years. I was the patient, he was always the one wanting answers, wanting me to be better. It's easier to be the patient. Yes, more painful, but easier. The uncertainty that my husband has shouldered all of these years, the worry and stress he has carried alone is mind boggling. He never wavered.
He is my hero.
I can only hope to be more like him.

Unofficially, he suffered a severe reaction to the medications. He will still undergo a complete out- patient cardio and neuro work up. Officially, God, one more time, has provided us another miracle. Ken and I have been able to see each other and our experiences through each other's eyes. He has been able to see my view from the hospital and tests, pricks, prods, etc. I have been able to feel his stress and anxiety loving someone and wanting to take away their suffering.

As we move forward, having to sell our beautiful home, God has injected us with compassion for each other, that we may be able to help each other emotionally and physically through the next months. We each have a perspective and we have been given the unique ability to see them from each other's eyes. People shake their heads and ask me why do these things happen to you and your family? I no longer ask why, but accept things that happen, because God is at the steering wheel of our lives. Any of you that know Ken and me, know that having to downsize (i.e throw away, donate, sell, etc a lot of stuff) will be very difficult for us. We adore this home, leaving it will be heartbreaking.

So maybe the God that has given us miracle after miracle, has given us one more...showing us to be kind, loving and compassionate and look through each other's eyes going forward, and more importantly, through His eyes: The eyes of Love.

And most importantly, we have found that by turning our daily life over to the care and love of God, we can do anything.

Namaste,
Kim

Being Knocked Down and Getting Up - My 2016 Theme

I am really happy to see a fresh, new 2017 ahead of me.
Actually, I wrote similar words to that effect on January 1, 2016, about 2015.

2015 was a cakewalk (except nearly dying from MRSA in October 2015!) compared to this past year. Lots of potholes in the road and with the loss of Ken's job in March, I felt as if a sinkhole was threatening to devour us. Ups and downs, ups and downs... I really wanted off of the roller coaster. And at times, I was off.

Many great things happened in 2016, too. I started a business, made many new friends and contacts, and saw my youngest off to college. Then illness struck again out of the blue.

I opened Mindfulness and Matters on September 8, 2016 and on September 15 was in the hospital with an infection that is still stubbornly hanging on. I am much, much better; off of all IV meds and the horrible drain is gone, but I will be on oral antibiotics for an entire year. As I write this I am shaking my head because, in spite of being on almost every antibiotic available, I spent New Year's Eve home while Ken went solo to a party because of a wicked cold.

There's that roller coaster again.

Resilience is defined as the process of effectively coping with adversity, or in "Kim's Terms", getting up again and again after being punched in the teeth.

This morning while I was looking back over my journal from last year, I realized that a few things kept coming up that I feel helped me to nurture resilience in my life, so I thought I should jot them down for future reference for myself!

1. Sometimes, in spite of everything you are trying to do good for yourself, bad things just happen. It is no one's fault, they just happen. ACCEPTANCE that change (for good or bad) is a part of life and daily living is critical. Learn to go with the flow.

2. I always try to find the meaning in difficult situations. It has often taken me weeks or even months, to learn some of these lessons, but they were always there. Without fail.

3. I try to surround myself with positive people and relationships. Enough said.

4. Be optimistic. I usually give myself a 24-hour pity party if circumstances call for it. Whining, crying, etc. After that, it's kinda ridiculous to keep it up because that behavior is not going to change the circumstances and then I risk being one of those people that no longer fall into the category ' positive people and relationships'.

5. Make decisions. By making decisions, it gives you back a bit of power that you feel you have lost. For example, after going through a once a week procedure for several weeks that was brutally painful, I made the decision to insist on a PIC line and being fully anesthetized going forward each week. It was a pain in the butt for the Radiology Dept., but that was not my problem. Controlling my pain was my problem. Decision made, big girl panties pulled on!

6. Walk in Faith, not Fear. As I have written countless times before, the journey I am on is not about Why is this happening to me?, but rather, How is God going to help me through this? Fear is paralyzing and because it is an emotion most people want to avoid at all costs, we may internalize it as anger or sadness, which also will eventually take us out of the category of 'positive people and relationships'.

I have seen that through my own meditation practice, I was able to nurture these principles. This fall, when not able to be at the studio, my practice suffered and so did my ability to deal with some of my challenges. My creativity plummeted, even writing eluded me.
So I went right back to my basics:
Spending time alone with God first thing in the morning before looking at a phone, an email, etc.
Offering my day and myself up to whatever might be in my destiny that day.
Seek out a friend to talk to or be the friend someone needed to talk to.
Choose to be happy.

Make plans.

And have faith that all will be ok.
And it is.

Happy New Year!
Namaste,
Kim