As continuing education of my Pastoral Counseling certification, I am attending a conference at the New England Institute of Addiction Studies.....
I love to do new things. Whether it be a new book, or a new project, or a new class, or job, or hobby, or cause, or friendship, or house or.. see the pattern? I just love the feeling that the beginning of something new gives you. The feeling of freshness, excitement, unlimited potential and of strength and passion. The beginning of something new is like having a fresh page in life, beautifully blemish free and just waiting for me to write upon it. I have enthusiasm for doing things, but it often comes with a cost.
My enthusiasm for doing things and doing things well, has served me nicely in life. In the past, I have been told that I have a 'great work ethic' or that I have natural ability to succeed. In some cases, with what was perceived as very little effort, I have become a top achiever, or most efficient, or fastest, tallest, strongest - whatever 'est' applied to that particular endeavor. The problem lies within the statement 'with what was perceived as very little effort', because this perception was not my reality.
For as long as I can remember, I have had very little self-confidence. Yet, deep down inside, I always knew I could or would complete my objective. I have never lacked in determination. In school, I always sat in the very front (still do to this day), not because I thought of myself as a smarty pants or teacher's pet, but the complete opposite; I sat there so that perhaps the teacher might call on a student that was seemingly not paying as close as attention as I was. Sometimes, it worked. Even though I was always more than prepared for my lessons, I always had a nagging doubt that I was not as prepared as everyone else, or as smart as everyone else. My records showed that I was an exceptional student, I just never felt like I was one.
This feeling of just not quite measuring up to everyone else has plagued me my entire life. Because of this feeling, I have put tremendous pressure on myself to plan for, prepare for and be the best that I could be at just about everything I have applied myself to. This is probably an acceptable formula for success in certain careers in life such as a professional athlete or something; just not for the typical stay at home mom!
I have done a lot of self-examination to discover the true roots of my wanting to people please, of being a 'yes' person and one who cringes at the thought of hurting someone's else feelings. I have wondered so many times why do I take on more responsibilities than I need to, why do I always push to the front of the pack instead of finding peace just cruising in the middle? Who are these 'invisible judges' that I am always trying to satisfy?
Of course, the answers lie deep in my childhood, the environment that I was raised in. I am living the life of a breast cancer survivor now, and I lived the life of a survivor then. After my mother passed away of cancer when I was just 12, my younger sisters and I were raised by an absentee, alcoholic father. He tried the best he could with what he knew how to do. The result for me was that I was mature beyond my years and learned to fake it until I made it. I did not learn how to do things, I was forced to do things. My skills in life came from life itself.
In the past two years, through a terrific Women's Adult Children of Alcoholics Group, I have learned the answers to why I have responded to situations the way I do and think the way that I think.
Due to being raised in a dysfunctional household I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility and I often have guilt feelings when I stand up for myself instead of giving into others. I judge myself often quite harshly and I tend to be an approval seeker and try to keep peace in situations that are sometimes out of my control. Are these particularly bad traits to have? Not always... I tend to think that they help me to also be a kind person, willing to help another, and person that you can count on. One thing I do know for sure... things (quirks) about myself sure make a lot more sense to me now!
So why am I sharing this now?
Because I am sitting in the front row of a classroom, waiting for class to begin (I am early, of course) and some of those nagging feelings of inferiority are beginning to rise. Fortunately, I now have the tools to reroute my thinking. It is ironic that the topic of this course is "Effects of Parental Alcoholism on Adolescents". Despite not having many letters after my last name representing various degrees, I will probably be at the top of my class!
For more information go to www.adultchildren.org
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Sunday, June 7, 2015
Roadblocks, Potholes and Detours
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| Komen Race For the Cure 2015 |
I was honored to speak at the Race For The Cure in Bushnell Park on Saturday!
Hi Everyone and welcome to the 2015 Komen CT Race For the Cure! What an amazing, beautiful day that we have for this incredible event. Each year I am so amazed at the selfless time and energy all of you give of yourselves to help find a cure for breast cancer.. I personally thank you!
Yesterday, I celebrated 17 years of being a present cancer survivor! For 15 of those 17 years, I have been fighting Stg. 4 metastatic cancer. It is truly a miracle and I am so blessed and grateful to be here today.
When Anne Morris of Komen asked me to speak at this years' Race, I was thrilled! But believe it or not, I was almost not able to be here today. I just got out of the hospital a few days ago; I had been there for five days. I had an infection in my abdomen related to my treatments and I was really, really sick. It was a big roadblock that almost prevented me from being here today.
Looking back on the unpredictability of this past week, I began to think about all of the roadblocks and detours that I have come up against while fighting cancer. The biggest roadblock came with the words "Kimberly, you have breast cancer." Life, as I knew it, stopped right there. It didn't matter that I was 34 and had a husband and a newborn and a toddler. The path that my life had been following, and that I thought I had a lot of control over, hit a major roadblock and I now had to take a different direction. And what a direction it has been!
It has been a road filled with over 40 surgeries, or, my 'potholes' as I like to call them. My road has had major detours such as open heart surgery and repeated life threatening infections. And my husband and I have certainly paid the tolls at the toll booths on my cancer journey - enormous amouts of money for my healthcare. I used to believe that my breast cancer was a roadblock to living a full and happy life. Not anymore!
Instead, having cancer has made me the recipient of an untold number of blessings. Breast cancer has led me on an exciting journey to develop a spiritual life that has tremendous depth and meaning to me. Having breast cancer has also taught me the valuable lessons of courage, perseverance, compassion, grace and peace. And the road named cancer has led me to countless new acquaintances and deep friendships.
What type of person would I have turned out to be if I wasn't diagnosed with cancer 17 years ago? I'm not sure... But after spending so much time with my friends in pink, I have come to realize that there is 'something'... 'something' very special about these courage women, that I now have, too. I know that I am a better person because of cancer.
My breast cancer journey has taken me on a new and exciting career path, too! It led me back to school and earlier this year, I completed my certification as a Pastoral Counselor. I am now living my passion by being able to help other women overcome their challenges in life, by implementing the lessons that I have learned. Hopefully, I can make their journey down the highway of life, a little less bumpy!
So that roadblock that jumped in my path earlier this week?... well I blew right though it!
And now all of our seperate roads have led us here, to the Race For the Cure! Have a great day today and make sure that when you run or walk later, that you do it in the "pink fast lane"!!
Friday, June 5, 2015
Seventeen and Counting!
I had to change the title of my blog today. Had to change it from Sixteen Years Of Pink to Seventeen Years of Pink. Any guess how come? You betcha, one more pink ribbon has been added to my Survivor cap!Seventeen years... that's crazy, right? I have been fighting breast cancer for one third of my life.
Wowza!
Coincidentally, I am giving a speech tomorrow at the opening ceremonies for the Komen CT Race For the Cure. The Race is always held the first weekend in June, so I have enjoyed being in the company of thousands of people celebrating breast cancer survivors and raising money to help find a cure, on the anniversary of my survivorshop. A big, pink party just for me! Well, not really..
I remember my first Race for the Cure. At that time, it was held in another town and in May. At the Race, each survivor receives a pink hat and a pink ribbon is placed on the brim of the cap to represent how many years of survivorship she has. I received just a cap; no pink ribbons for me...yet.
I remember looking around the park and taking a mental inventory of the number of pink ribbons on the caps. Lots of brand new survivors, with one or two ribbons and large numbers of women with three to ten ribbons. It then began to get a bit harder to find the women with lots of ribbons, the women with fifteen and greater years of survival. But they were there, just not as many as I would have liked to have seen. Occassionally, I would see the remarkable woman whose brim was overflowing with ribbons and my heart would swell. "Oh God, please let me be one of those women"!
That first race for me, in 1999, I was just an observer of the 5k race. In January, 2000, after all of my chemo had been completed, I underwent a bilateral mastectomy. In March of that same year, I decided that I wanted to run in the Race For the Cure instead of just watching. One small thing stood in the way of me crossing the finish line: I wasn't a runner.
I grabbed my sneakers (used for gardening) and began running. Very slow. I ran while Tessa was at preschool, pushing a jog stroller that I borrowed from a friend, with Torrie bucled in. There was no magic formula with my running, I basically just ran farther than I did the day before. I found out what the actual course layout was and would haul Torrie, the jog stroller and myself out to the streets and run. Very slow. Two days prior to the Race, I still had not run 3.1 miles. I was praying that adrenaline would kick in on race day and help me cross the finish line. Unbelieveably, my strategy worked. And more unbelievably, I finished in less than 30 minutes; a lofty goal for someone post surgery that had only been running for 8 weeks!
I was just tickled pink with myself - tee hee! But what happened next was really going to shake up my life. At the Survivor Breakfast, there were several gifts that were to be given away via raffle.
Among them, was an all-expense paid, 4 day trip to Washington, DC to participate in the National Race For the Cure, and attend a party at Vice President Gore's home. Bet you can't guess who won?!
Um hmm. So what turned out to be a one-time running event, became two. The next month, I was running down the Mall.. and my time was 26:30.
So with three months of running under my belt, I made big decision: I was going to run a Marathon. The Walt Disney Marathon. In January. Six and a half months away. Stop laughing.
So I kept my fool proof training formula the same, just run farther and farther. Seriously, I did do some research and came up with a good plan to achieve a solid base, and alternate short and long run days. I had a blast training. I had such a sense of accomplishment each week, because I was getting stronger, running faster and running farther. In January, 2001, I completed my first marathon.
And my last.
Since that first Race For The Cure in 2000, I have always
In short, I have had a ball being a breast cancer survivor and being associated with Komen.
And tomorrow morning...
the brim of my cap will be filled pink ribbons!
Wednesday, June 3, 2015
The Best Way Is The Hardest Way
It is so good to be home after my four day stay at the spa, oops I mean, hospital. My mental "gratefulness list" has been growing all day. Among some of the items on the list: my own nightgown that covers me appropriately, a large cup of freshly brewed coffee, soft toilet paper, wash cloths and towels, views from my windows, BRAVO T.V., uninterrupted sleep, my family, and of course, my mini-doxies Bella and Brutus. Sometimes being yanked from your ordinary life makes you really grateful for what you have each day.
I was asked a couple of different times today by friends calling to check up on me, "what keeps your faith so strong when things like this happen?". As I was sharing my answer, I realized that this question has been asked of me many times and for many different reasons. Looking back over my 50 years, I have had my share of really difficult times, yet I still consider myself a 'glass is half-full' kind of gal. It has not always been easy and the ability to remain relatively optimistic during life's challenges is certainly something I have cultivated and nurtured in myself and still continue to do so.
Even as a young girl after my mother's death (she died of cancer at age 37, I was 12) and several years later after my father's suicide, in all of the grief and sadness, I had a survivor type mentality. I also had a firm belief in God even though I was not raised in a religious household. My desire to know God has been in my heart for as far back as I can remember. However, it has only been in the past few years that I have learned to be accepting of and follow, God's Will, not mine.
When I arrived at the hospital Friday evening and realized that I had a bad infection that was causing even more pain, fever, etc. of course my first reaction was: Are you kidding, God?!
(I have a really neat relationship with Him, so I can talk to Him that way!) There was definitely fear, hand wringing, exasperation and disbelief.
For a while.
Then I prayed.
I prayed for many things, like great doctors, solid diagnosis, pain relief, but most importantly, I prayed for acceptance; acceptance of God's Will for me. God's Will for me was not to suffer or be sick, I am sure. But, I have cancer (not caused by God either) and because of that, I have many related health problems resulting from having cancer for 16 years (Blessing! Not dead!). These health problems are going to surface unannounced and when I am least expecting them. God gives me the strength and grace to handle my problems - when I turn to Him. I also pray that I will be made aware of the lessons that I am to learn while enduring my problems. And each time I have a huge challenge, my belief in God and the belief that He is caring for me and protecting me goes to a much deeper level. Much spirituallity as a whole, is taken to new depths.
To expect God to answer my prayers, I first had to convince myself of my need for Him. I had to give up control (of everything). Living by God's Will requires humility. I cannot have my plans all laid out and barrel straight forward, and at the same time be fully following God's plan for my life. This does not mean I just lay around waiting for things to happen, following God's Will requires discipline and commitment. Sometimes remaining in my current situation (insert hospitalization, relationships, big decisions, etc) is really uncomfortable, but it doesn't mean that I disengage and allow things to fall apart around me. I must be patient. Sometimes, really patient. I also have to be brave and have courage, especially when I am being pressured to act a certain way. I have to be careful and not stop listening to God and start following others' advice instead.
This brings me to Faith. Truly believing that God has a purpose and a plan for my life means that I also accept that His timing is perfect and that sometimes my prayers are not answered "yes" or "no", but "not now". That is where the true waiting comes in. When I am facing a difficult situation like the past 4 days, I take great peace in the fact that God is strengthening me while I lean on Him. Since I have been home, I have come to the realization that many GOOD things came to me at the expense of being sick:
1. I know I now have a pretty severe reaction to morphine. It was given to me in the ER and I had quite the reaction. So glad to have found this out now, because it was planned for me to be hooked to a morphine pump after my upcoming surgery. Yikes!
2. Both of my surgeons were able to come together with me and discuss in detail with each other and me, my upcoming surgery. We are all on the same page. Trying to orchestrate that type of meeting in their offices would have been impossible.
3. I stayed on the same floor that I will be recupperating on and got to meet the nurses that will be taking care of me. I am now walking into a familiar place and that helps my fears of the onknown a lot.
4. I found out the room numbers to request, that have the best ocean view!
Following God's Will, in theory, seems like it would be the easiest thing to do, "You're the boss, I'll listen and do what you say".
But for me and my Type A, 'my way or the highway' personality, it is one of the hardest.
I was asked a couple of different times today by friends calling to check up on me, "what keeps your faith so strong when things like this happen?". As I was sharing my answer, I realized that this question has been asked of me many times and for many different reasons. Looking back over my 50 years, I have had my share of really difficult times, yet I still consider myself a 'glass is half-full' kind of gal. It has not always been easy and the ability to remain relatively optimistic during life's challenges is certainly something I have cultivated and nurtured in myself and still continue to do so.
Even as a young girl after my mother's death (she died of cancer at age 37, I was 12) and several years later after my father's suicide, in all of the grief and sadness, I had a survivor type mentality. I also had a firm belief in God even though I was not raised in a religious household. My desire to know God has been in my heart for as far back as I can remember. However, it has only been in the past few years that I have learned to be accepting of and follow, God's Will, not mine.
When I arrived at the hospital Friday evening and realized that I had a bad infection that was causing even more pain, fever, etc. of course my first reaction was: Are you kidding, God?!
(I have a really neat relationship with Him, so I can talk to Him that way!) There was definitely fear, hand wringing, exasperation and disbelief.
For a while.
Then I prayed.
I prayed for many things, like great doctors, solid diagnosis, pain relief, but most importantly, I prayed for acceptance; acceptance of God's Will for me. God's Will for me was not to suffer or be sick, I am sure. But, I have cancer (not caused by God either) and because of that, I have many related health problems resulting from having cancer for 16 years (Blessing! Not dead!). These health problems are going to surface unannounced and when I am least expecting them. God gives me the strength and grace to handle my problems - when I turn to Him. I also pray that I will be made aware of the lessons that I am to learn while enduring my problems. And each time I have a huge challenge, my belief in God and the belief that He is caring for me and protecting me goes to a much deeper level. Much spirituallity as a whole, is taken to new depths.
To expect God to answer my prayers, I first had to convince myself of my need for Him. I had to give up control (of everything). Living by God's Will requires humility. I cannot have my plans all laid out and barrel straight forward, and at the same time be fully following God's plan for my life. This does not mean I just lay around waiting for things to happen, following God's Will requires discipline and commitment. Sometimes remaining in my current situation (insert hospitalization, relationships, big decisions, etc) is really uncomfortable, but it doesn't mean that I disengage and allow things to fall apart around me. I must be patient. Sometimes, really patient. I also have to be brave and have courage, especially when I am being pressured to act a certain way. I have to be careful and not stop listening to God and start following others' advice instead.
This brings me to Faith. Truly believing that God has a purpose and a plan for my life means that I also accept that His timing is perfect and that sometimes my prayers are not answered "yes" or "no", but "not now". That is where the true waiting comes in. When I am facing a difficult situation like the past 4 days, I take great peace in the fact that God is strengthening me while I lean on Him. Since I have been home, I have come to the realization that many GOOD things came to me at the expense of being sick:
1. I know I now have a pretty severe reaction to morphine. It was given to me in the ER and I had quite the reaction. So glad to have found this out now, because it was planned for me to be hooked to a morphine pump after my upcoming surgery. Yikes!
2. Both of my surgeons were able to come together with me and discuss in detail with each other and me, my upcoming surgery. We are all on the same page. Trying to orchestrate that type of meeting in their offices would have been impossible.
3. I stayed on the same floor that I will be recupperating on and got to meet the nurses that will be taking care of me. I am now walking into a familiar place and that helps my fears of the onknown a lot.
4. I found out the room numbers to request, that have the best ocean view!
Following God's Will, in theory, seems like it would be the easiest thing to do, "You're the boss, I'll listen and do what you say".
But for me and my Type A, 'my way or the highway' personality, it is one of the hardest.
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Coinkydinks? I think not...
After four days of great fun at Yale Hospital, it is time for me to pack up and head home. Actually, I'm scooting out of here as quickly as I can so that these docs of mine don't change their minds and keep me any longer!
What a crazy series of events! I went in for a procedure called a cystoscopy last Wednesday afternoon. It was explained to me that the invasive procedure probably stirred up my "hornets nest" of chronic infection where my mesh and pain is. By Thursday night, I had more tenderness in my belly than normal, but only gave it a fleeting nod. On Friday morning however, I was much more uncomfortable and started getting a bit concerned. I kept questioning myself was I really feeling something different, had I done anything different to cause more pain? I began to think I should call my doctor. The back and forth banter began inside my head: "It's nothing, you're just imagining things", "You don't want to drive all the way down to Yale ER, on a FRIDAY night, and have it be nothing", blah, blah, blah. Suddenly, I had a sense of purpose and calmness come over me and I knew I had to call my doctor and was instructed to go to the hospital.
Being the professional hospital goer that I am, I did the most important before heading to Yale: I took a good long shower, shaved my leggies, washed my hair, etc. You never know how long it will be until your next shower in the hospital. I also packed my toothbrush, extra undies, hairbrush and phone charger; all of the necessities.
In the 45 minutes that it took us to drive to New Haven, I got worse. Really worse. My abdomen started swelling and the pain spread across my belly and around to my back. I also started running a fever. I was sick, it was infection.
I've been told by several people that I got here just in time. Back to that feeling of purpose and calmness... I have had this experience more than a few times in the past several months. I have come to recognize it and respect it. I also now listen to it with little hesitation. These are my God Moments.
I used to describe myself as having really keen intuition. I now describe myself as a spiritually fit person. I pray for guidance and strength and I receive them. I then act upon the answers I receive.
That is called having faith.
I have Faith.
Amen.
What a crazy series of events! I went in for a procedure called a cystoscopy last Wednesday afternoon. It was explained to me that the invasive procedure probably stirred up my "hornets nest" of chronic infection where my mesh and pain is. By Thursday night, I had more tenderness in my belly than normal, but only gave it a fleeting nod. On Friday morning however, I was much more uncomfortable and started getting a bit concerned. I kept questioning myself was I really feeling something different, had I done anything different to cause more pain? I began to think I should call my doctor. The back and forth banter began inside my head: "It's nothing, you're just imagining things", "You don't want to drive all the way down to Yale ER, on a FRIDAY night, and have it be nothing", blah, blah, blah. Suddenly, I had a sense of purpose and calmness come over me and I knew I had to call my doctor and was instructed to go to the hospital.
Being the professional hospital goer that I am, I did the most important before heading to Yale: I took a good long shower, shaved my leggies, washed my hair, etc. You never know how long it will be until your next shower in the hospital. I also packed my toothbrush, extra undies, hairbrush and phone charger; all of the necessities.
In the 45 minutes that it took us to drive to New Haven, I got worse. Really worse. My abdomen started swelling and the pain spread across my belly and around to my back. I also started running a fever. I was sick, it was infection.
I've been told by several people that I got here just in time. Back to that feeling of purpose and calmness... I have had this experience more than a few times in the past several months. I have come to recognize it and respect it. I also now listen to it with little hesitation. These are my God Moments.
I used to describe myself as having really keen intuition. I now describe myself as a spiritually fit person. I pray for guidance and strength and I receive them. I then act upon the answers I receive.
That is called having faith.
I have Faith.
Amen.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Freaky Friday!
Unbelievably, I am lying on a gurney in the emergency room at Yale. As the day passed, I noticed increasing pain and tenderness in my abdomen. A strong feeling pushed me to contact my doctor. So here I am awaiting a CT Scan , with IV morphine and fever. In all likelihood there is infection.
It never fails to amaze me how much we are not in control of our lives, even though we think we are.
Starting to feel woozy, bye for now.
It never fails to amaze me how much we are not in control of our lives, even though we think we are.
Starting to feel woozy, bye for now.
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
I'm Singing In The Rain - Not!!
As I sit here, I can hear the rain through the screen door gently tapping on the patio. The sounds make me think of the saying ' Into every life a little rain must fall". At this moment, that particular saying really annoys me. I have had a little rain fall into my life today. Actually, a lot of rain. In fact, a deluge of rain fell into my life today.
(The following passage is a rather graphic description of a medical issue I am dealing with. It may be a little too much for some readers, but hey, I'm the one that has to live with the embarrassment when I see you!)
Last year, after my "really big hernia repair, that compared to the one coming up will look like a facial" surgery, for some yet to be explained reason, I completely lost the ability to urinate on my own. No matter how hard I tried, nothing. It resulted in having to self-catheter many times a day. For me, this was awful. I have self-diagnosed bathroom OCD and am a self proclaimed germaphobe as well. Not a good combination. Portapotties and I have never gotten along. Now to maybe have to use a portapotty to self-catheter?!? Bring on the Xanax...
Thank goodness the problem corrected itself after a few months. Fast forward to March 2015. My problem has returned. My Oncologist directted me to Yale's finest female (no explanation for gender needed, right?) Urologist. I have undergone several not so fun tests trying to determine the cause of my problem. The fascia that is dissolving in my abdomen that is permitting all of the hernias to form, is also dissolving around the bladder, resulting in two additional hernias in the pelvic floor. In total, I have 7 new hernias since last May, and now an Immunologist/Oncologist has been recruited for my team. I will soon have jerseys printed for them reflecting our team name: Gang Green. tee hee.
The last test today, however, proved that my inability to urinate is not a hernia related problem. It is a nerve/neuropathy issue, that in all likelihood, is permanent. Ouch. Dr. m. stated it perfectly: "The chemotherapy over all of these years that has saved your life, is now jepordizing your life".
So today was a pretty, not-so-good day. While Dr. M. was trying to explain all of this to Ken, an iron band seemed to place itself on my head and then begin to tighten. On the drive home, I just shut my eyes and tried to shut up the chatter in my head. At home, I went and laid down and began to put all of my new relaxation methods to work. Amazingly, I felt much better within the hour.
So a lot of rain fell into my life today. Rain is needed for growth. Rain is needed for strength. And rain is needed to make me flourish. I received some really bad news, sat with it, meditated on it and made peace with it. Does that mean I am not totally pissed off (ha!)? Of course not. But it does not have to make me bitter or whine and pout. How much fun is that to be around? No, it makes me find all of the inner strength that I receive from God and march forward.
Into the rain.
With my pink umbrella.
(The following passage is a rather graphic description of a medical issue I am dealing with. It may be a little too much for some readers, but hey, I'm the one that has to live with the embarrassment when I see you!)
Last year, after my "really big hernia repair, that compared to the one coming up will look like a facial" surgery, for some yet to be explained reason, I completely lost the ability to urinate on my own. No matter how hard I tried, nothing. It resulted in having to self-catheter many times a day. For me, this was awful. I have self-diagnosed bathroom OCD and am a self proclaimed germaphobe as well. Not a good combination. Portapotties and I have never gotten along. Now to maybe have to use a portapotty to self-catheter?!? Bring on the Xanax...
Thank goodness the problem corrected itself after a few months. Fast forward to March 2015. My problem has returned. My Oncologist directted me to Yale's finest female (no explanation for gender needed, right?) Urologist. I have undergone several not so fun tests trying to determine the cause of my problem. The fascia that is dissolving in my abdomen that is permitting all of the hernias to form, is also dissolving around the bladder, resulting in two additional hernias in the pelvic floor. In total, I have 7 new hernias since last May, and now an Immunologist/Oncologist has been recruited for my team. I will soon have jerseys printed for them reflecting our team name: Gang Green. tee hee.
The last test today, however, proved that my inability to urinate is not a hernia related problem. It is a nerve/neuropathy issue, that in all likelihood, is permanent. Ouch. Dr. m. stated it perfectly: "The chemotherapy over all of these years that has saved your life, is now jepordizing your life".
So today was a pretty, not-so-good day. While Dr. M. was trying to explain all of this to Ken, an iron band seemed to place itself on my head and then begin to tighten. On the drive home, I just shut my eyes and tried to shut up the chatter in my head. At home, I went and laid down and began to put all of my new relaxation methods to work. Amazingly, I felt much better within the hour.
So a lot of rain fell into my life today. Rain is needed for growth. Rain is needed for strength. And rain is needed to make me flourish. I received some really bad news, sat with it, meditated on it and made peace with it. Does that mean I am not totally pissed off (ha!)? Of course not. But it does not have to make me bitter or whine and pout. How much fun is that to be around? No, it makes me find all of the inner strength that I receive from God and march forward.
Into the rain.
With my pink umbrella.
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