Cancer Blessings

It's 4:05 AM and I've been awake since 2:15 AM. Just when I think three consecutive days of sleep have got me caught up, the overwhelming drowsiness hits me upside the head again. Usually it happens when I'm ready to do something like write in my journal. Regardless, I sit here, green tea in hand, chemo cat by my side, my man snoring heavily in the next room and I'm determined to get some thoughts out on virtual paper. Strange as it seems, this is my moment of serenity.  

I've had a lot of rough moments this week. I've been too weak to do anything but saunter back and forth from bed to bathroom to kitchen. The roller coaster of emotions that go hand in hand is exhausting… DOWN, the self pity … UP, the eager hopefulness … DOWN, the longing for the end that seems so far away. Obviously, emotions are closely tied to my physical state. Try as I might, it is a challenge to think of blessings when you're body is continually being raped by poison. Yet blessings keep popping up all around me, like little dandelions, all bright and cheery yellow. I told myself I was going to make a list of cancer blessings to help remind me of all the good when I'm feeling low. Now is as good of a time as any to get that list started. 

My flower, the lotus. My symbol of serenity, strength & hope. 

Mind you, these are NOT in order of importance, just some extemporaneous thoughts bursting out of my skull as I sit her sipping green tea. :-)

- Time to Think. Yes, this is the biggie. I've been forced to a screeching halt. Even though this gal's over analytical, high speed brain runs 24-7, chemo has tamped down my ability to think quickly (chemo brain is the technical term) which makes my thoughts more methodical, deliberate and not always accurate. At times my thinking is less than positive, but given the circumstances, it hard no to go down that road. I'm working on improving my positive thinking each day.

- Simple Pleasures. Sipping green tea, my cats purr, my lover's kiss, the soft creaky, croaky tree frog serenade outside my window, the smell of fresh cut mango, a note from a dear friend, a hug from my child, a cool breeze, savory dark chocolate, a soft rain tapping on the roof, a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs, the ocean waves on my toes, a morning dove's repetitive coo, a cool glass of white wine (that I so dearly miss!), the humid air softly coating my skin, the lushness & vibrant colors in my healing garden … the list seems endless.

- Love. Ah, love … another biggie. Dare I say cancer has shown me love? I believe it has. Several months ago, a former co-worker from Minneapolis allegedly committed suicide. I vividly recall reading the online condolences and thinking out loud, "Did she know she was this loved!?" Personally I don't believe she did. Now that I'm in my little cancer predicament, I personally get to witness and feel such an outpouring of love from so many people. Some expected and some unexpected, but all genuinely gracious. I admit, it is a big, heady rush. My mind has been blown many a time by people's generosity, support and their sheer desire for me to fight this demon head on. I feel loved, but more so, I feel tremendously humbled that I am surrounded by people who love me. Outside of my inner circle, I never thought little ol' me could have any kind of impact on another person's life but based on the love I'm receiving from so many friends, I clearly have. Don't take this wrong, but if I were to die today, I'd die knowing that I was loved. And that is the greatest gift of all. 

- Prioritizing. I believe any life altering event is how most people come about prioritizing what is important in life. Losing both parents, challenges of raising a child with Asperger's & ADHD, a failed marriage that lead to financial hardship, jobs that I've poured my creative heart into, have all taught me an important lesson. I needed to lose to gain. It's true what 'they say'… every loss has brought me something better. What I now believe is important has changed drastically from what I use to believe a few years ago. Sure the standards are unchanged, like my unconditional love for Greg & my kids and their well being - those have always been the most important. But I no longer yearn for those material things that I once thought would bring me happiness. I yearn for experiences. I yearn to embrace life full on with reckless abandon, not sure if that is even possible, but I'm gonna give it a shot!

- Spirituality. This goes hand and hand with love. There is a strong spiritual energy that comes from the outpouring of love that I have received. It is a HUGE blessing that I like to call Spirit Fuel. That Spirit Fuel has lifted me at the times I've needed it the most. When I'm at my lowest physically and don't feel I can continue, I magically get a shot of that Spirit Fuel from someone and my faith and belief in fighting through this cancer is renewed. And if I could get all Long Island Medium on you for a moment, I do feel the spiritual presence of my deceased father, mother and grandmother, as well as my dear friend Judi, who passed from colorectal cancer in 2008. I sense them surrounding me with loving energy to help me through this process, another loving gift.

- Reflection. You may think this is the same as 'Time to Think', but you'd be wrong. Reflection for me is a spiritual retrospective. Reflecting on my past has allowed me to bring my future into focus. It has humbled me. It has shown me regret. It has inspired me.  And it has made me proud of what I've done. 

It's now 6:20 AM. I hear the birds calling me to the back porch, saying to come and enjoy a coffee and croissant with us …. another blessing I shall partake in.

Adieu for now. xoxo

My beautiful Grandmother & angel 

Mom and Dad ~ circa 1988

my angel, Judi and me ~ circa 1984

Team Gonzo - Colon Cancer Walk 2013

I am proud and honored to report that Team Gonzo raised $1, 225 in the 2013 Rochester, MN - Get Your Rear In Gear 5K Run/Walk, a event to benefit the Colon Cancer Coalition. 

Thank you for making a difference for the thousands of people touched by colon cancer. The funds we raised will help with prevention, early detection and treatment for this disease.

Team Gonzo: Jill, Gonzo and Ann - WAY TO GO!!! 

I love all the fun colon puns! 

This is you colon ... on steroids!! YIKE .... lol

The Bitch is Back - Cycle 4 (1/3 of the way done)

Chemotherapy is a bitch. Treatment 3 was really rough on me and I entered my fourth cycle in a weakened state, my white blood count continually dropping and now hovering below the normal range which tells me my body is fighting harder and harder to repair after each treatment. My feet are numb which makes me shuffle around the house like an 85 year old woman. My fingers won't listen to my brain and seize up when I least expect it (so please forgive any type-o's as I type this with two bent fingers- thank God for the iPhone's talk to type feature!).  My daily neasuea is controlled by drugs that make me loopy. I'll shut up now because I could go on and on with this pity party. 

I am grateful for those around me who check in and show their concern as those little 'boosts' help me keep up the fight. I'm slowly coming to the realization I can't do it all and for someone like me who is a people pleasing, perfecitonist and planner, that is very difficult to accept. I'm not one to release control and admitting I can't make dinner, clean the house or get out of bed and go to work. It just isn't in my nature. But as my oncologist and chemo nurses tell me, I must. I have to put myself, my health and well being (physical and mental) FIRST. I know what they're saying is correct, so why is is so hard for me to accept?

Times like this I am thankful for my angel. Someone who has been there and done that. She is my solace in the middle of the night when I need to vent or my mind is racing with so many unknowns. 

I want to share this exchange between my angel and me … then you too can see what a shining light she is during this dark time in my life. And to any of my colon cancer friends that I've met in online threads, perhaps you can glean some hope, knowledge and inspiration from these emails as well. 

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Email from Lee to Linda: 8:56PM on Monday

Sounds like I had the same regiment your having. My hands and feet were extremely sensitive. I couldn't touch anything cold and I always had to wear slippers while at home and usually 2 pairs of socks when I went out. Especially bad all 4 days after each treatment. Any time I stepped outdoors I had a scarf around my neck, mouth and nose. Couldn't handle cold.

At night my legs and feet used to spasm too. So crazy. I would try to get up and walk it out but nothing helped.

What are you feeling?

Are you wiped out tonight?

I remember not wanting to eat a thing when I returned from the city. It was almost always a 10-12 hr day from the time I left my home till I returned. Sometimes I got very nauseas coming home because we sat in stop and go traffic forever.

So many factors made it worse.

Talk soon.

Lee

Sent from my iPhone

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Email from Linda to Lee: 12:45AM Tuesday

I'm having atrophy in my hands & feet, plus intermittent numbness in both. The exhaustion is extreme but the steroids in the chemo keep me waking up. The cold is extreme the first week, but my crazy, frequent hot flashes are off setting that a lot. Plus the first bite of food I take each time I try to eat causes incredible pain in the back of my mouth by my glands. I can't eat much as it causes stomach upset plus I'm just plan crabby about it all ... I dread those Mondays now & wonder how I'm going to do it without giving up. I know all my friends are well meaning by telling me how strong I am, but I don't feel it, I feel angry & weak like giving up. Greg is very supportive, but I just want to run away like an injured animal & be alone to lick my wounds. I try to find positives, but the first week is always bad & seems to be getting worse.

 from iLinda's iPhone

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Email from Lee to Linda: 8:02AM Tuesday

Flat out - it sucks. I get it.

I know everyone around you means well and tries to help but you still feel alone. You're voluntarily beating the crap out of yourself, always questioning the real need to. I found the need by looking around me. My husband, kids, friends ........I wasn't ready to check out or want the C to beat me.  Right b4 my forth treatment was my birthday- I had a complete and total breakdown. Scared to death that I wouldn't celebrate another birthday and petrified of #4 side effects. That was a reality check- make a choice - then and there I thought. I couldn't live in the moment but rather live for tomorrow. Just had to get thru the moment. My internist - Dr A (also a close friend) responded to my daily, evenly hourly text messages - usually responding with "tomorrow will be better". That's what I held onto.

I'm here for you today and tomorrow,  I promise. I would take it again for you if I could!!! I mean it.

Sent from my iPhone

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Email from Linda to Lee: 8:41AM Tuesday

Thank you for your kind words. I've had a couple break downs myself. My weakened state seems to get me there pretty quick! Then I do stupid things and add salt to my wounds by reading horrible stories on the internet that say chemo will kill you quicker than the cancer will, not exactly motivational material. :-/  

I think need to find something to look forward to ... yes, seeing my kids grow and make a life of their own is a biggie, living many more loving years with the man of my dreams is a biggie too! I need to come up with a short term incentive that will give me some ME time to look forward to, something I always neglect. Like a trip, a party or something to celebrate that the biggest part of my battle is over! Not sure what that would be as it seems so far way and I still have other daunting financial and job issues going on behind the scenes that prevent me from actually committing to much of anything. Hence my frustration ....

Thank you for  listening, it is comforting to have someone there who 'gets it'. 

xoxo

from iLinda's iPhone

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Email from Lee to Linda: 8:02AM Tuesday

After my 6th we took a few day trip with my brother and his family to Georgia. Airports and planes present a risk but we rolled the dice. To this day Dr A says that helped me so much get thru the rest. It was something to look forward to and the change of scenery was even more beneficial. Loads if sunscreen and of course a wise variety if hats. 

We even went horse back riding on the beach - another risk but Dr A knew the benefits there. The funniest was while we were there I was getting ready for dinner, went to put my wig on and forgot my wig cap. My only alternative was my daughters panties. We were all cracking up as I pranced around the room without the wig. All thru dinner my niece would have me do the bobble head to be sure the wig didn't slip. Laughter heals!

Instead of a major blow out party, we planned a big trip for last August. A true celebration for me, Mike, Michael, Mack and Annie. I started the planning around treatment #8. Kept my brain on a dream. Hawaii- paradise. 

If u can plan a special dinner date, or an overnight. ( How about a trip to nyc)😄 It helps!

Rest rest rest. 

Sent from my iPhone

Another 4 AM Wake Up Call

Sleep doesn't come easy for me. For well over a decade now, I've been plagued by sleeplessness. The vicious cycle began thirteen years ago when my son Noah was born, or as I call him, my naughty non-sleeper. It took him several YEARS to sleep through the night, at that point I began shifting into my job stress-TMJ-teeth grinding phase. I finally corrected that sleeping disorder by finding a new job. It wasn't long and my sleeplessness shifted into the deteriorating marriage-teenage children-sole provider stress type of sleeplessness. Which soon gave way to the divorce-heavily burdened by related financial strains-single parenting-sleeplessness. All of which circles around to where I am now with my job stress-family worries-changing dynamics of my personal relationships-chemo ridden sleeplessness cycle, otherwise know as my Midnight Malaise period. 

I'm slowly learning to make the best of my sleepless times. SLOWLY. I admit that the hypnotic lure of social media can easily suck me in at 2am. Sure, I try to conceal my addiction, iPhone in hand, covers drawn over my head. Even in my self aware, electronically addictive state, I know this isn't giving me any solace long term. But it is a process. I'll slowly work to exchange my online preoccupation for something more substantial. Scouts honor! 

However, some nights when my head is wrought with worry, I take to my email and correspond with my Angel, Lee. She is a blessing. Just knowing that at any given time I can reach out to her, no matter what my circumstance, is comforting. Not only is she there, she gets it. Truly gets IT. There seems to be an intuitive bond between those who have walked the hot coals of cancer treatment. A brethren or sisterhood of sorts, that has this magical handbook to help us new-bees work through the process. For instance the other day, or I should say, late night at 1am, I reached out to my Angel Lee just to touch base. I knew she just spent a long weekend with her husband in Rhode Island celebrating their 19 year wedding anniversary AND her 1 year anniversary since her last colon cancer treatment, two fabulous milestones! I was curious to hear how it went since at this point in my treatment, I really do enjoy living vicariously through others! 

Lee updates me on her fabulous weekend. And without knowing my inner struggles or perhaps all-knowing of my inner struggles, she offers me a bit of unsolicited sentiment to chew on. It's no secret that big, life changing circumstances alter who we are and how we perceive the world around us, forever. The part that can be hard to swallow is how those life changing events can also alter our relationships with others. As any good angel would, Lee clearly sensed this struggle with me as she offered me the following perspective. 

My friend Gary, a lymphoma survivor, introduced me to Imerman Angels and we constantly talk about being blessed. Sounds strange that such a horrible illness could be a blessing but it truly changes you.  No matter what type of person you were, you'll never be the same......but in a great way. The struggle strengthens you. The pain makes you enjoy the pain free time so much more. You'll appreciate your friends and family that have stepped up, especially the ones you never expected to. With that also comes disappointment in the ones that you thought would, but that changes YOU.  I will never walk away from anyone for any reason. Small needs are just as important as big ones.

As I lay here wide awake at 4am during my shittiest week of chemo thus far, I still manage to feel blessed. I am incedibly humbled at the thoughtfulness of family and friends who continually reach out to me with love, support and prayers. In turn, I am seek understanding as I part ways with those who do not have the capacity to travel on this journey with me, learning that it their burden to contend with, not mine. I thank God everyday that I have this solid rock of a man by my side, loving me unconditionally, cheering me on, lifting my spirits and keeping me grounded in reality so I don't slip away into a dark and twisty place. My three children give me purpose and the strength to fight so I can witness their future greatness, big or small, it's all greatness to this Mama! 

Meet my angel, Lee & her handsome son (who recently won the Middle School National Wrestling Championship in Virginia Beach and has been a varsity HS wrestler since 7 th grade!!) Had to brag on Lee's behalf cuz that's pretty darn cool!!

2013 Get Your Rear In Gear, benefit for Colon Cancer

Hello Blog followers! 

I have some amazing friends that are participating in a 5K run/walk for Colon Cancer in Rochester, Minnesota on my behalf! They even named their team after my 10th grade Spanish Class name ... Team Gonzo! 

Please support Jill, Ann and Lauren as they help kick Colon Cancer's Ass!! 
Simply click the blue Team Gonzo link below to donate ~ $5 or $500, every little bit makes a big difference! 

GO TEAM GONZO!!!

Then call your doctor and schedule your colonoscopy ASAP! 
xoxo Love you ALL!!! 

Lessons from The Big C

Today is a bad day. I had so much hope when my second cycle went so well, I actually thought I'd be able to breeze through all consecutive cycles the same way. Well, not so much. I liken today to being hit by a Mack Truck. I'm extremely lethargic, yet unable to sleep. I intermittently lose feeling in my hands and my fingers cramp and contort in ways I can't control on my own. I stumble through sentences, feeling an occasional bouts of chemo brain. I've feel nauseous even with my anti-nausea medicine. The hot flashes are coming fast and furious, so much so I swear I will spontaneously combust. Blah, blah blah… I could go on and on but I'd just scare off any readers I've accumulate up to this point! 

So what does one do when one is home from work dealing with the backlash of chemotherapy? Why watch The Big C of course! I was sad to see that the final season is only 4 episodes, however each one packs a big punch. The whole series was so well written and touched me deeply, more so now than ever before. During the series finale of the Big C there is a scene that really resonates with me. It is Cathy's conversation with the Priest, Rabbi and the Muslim imam (I think that is what a Muslim priest is called) when she was at Hospice. The Muslim imam said, "Your illness it not just to test you, but to test he charity of others. Have you seen generosity and kindness in the people around you? Well, we believe that beauty and the knowledge of that goodness is Allāh." …. WOW! 

Over the past two months I have been humbled by the generosity of friends both near and far. As I said in an earlier post, I get cards, gifts and well wishes via emails or posts every day. To me it's not the material objects that give me a rush, it's that fact that for some reason I am blessed to be surrounded by so many people who genuinely care about me. Pre-cancer Linda never sat and truly considered that there would be a time when she would feel such a warm embrace from all these smiling faces that she's collected throughout her lifetime. She simply was drawn to those who were like minded. Cancer Linda is now reminded on a daily basis how blessed she is to have such an amazing circle of friends. You share your generosity and kindness with me. The knowledge of that goodness is God. WOW!

I started a wall of cards with all the well wishes I've receive via snail mail. The power of the hand written word on the inside of a Hallmark card still has amazing heartfelt power. Don't get me wrong, it doesn't in any way diminish the other well wishes I've received electronically, those are also a thing of beauty that I cherish! The cool thing about my wall of cards is that is serves as my daily visual reminder that I am not in this alone. Each of those cards represent all the people that is on my side, friends who truly care and are rooting for me to kick cancer's ass! Again, the goodness that is God. 

In the words of The Big C's Cathy Jamison, LUCKY ME …. LUCKY ME. 

My wall of cards ~ It's a thing of beauty!

Isn't it Ironic

I sit here at the speciality clinic getting my my third cycle of chemo. Ironically, it was 21 years ago today my father passed away from colon cancer. That day is etched so deep in my memory. It seems like is was only weeks ago. I still harbor some anger over my father's death. He knew he was sick and likely dying for years. I remember a time in 1988 when he came to visit me in Minnesota. We were sitting outside at Fletcher's on Lake Minnetonka. He said to me, "You're old man isn't going to be around much longer." Of course I asked why. He put my hand on his upper stomach where I felt this large grapefruit size tumor sticking out. I was so angry at him for not taking care of himself. For chrissake he ate Rolaids like M & M's. Clearly something was not 'right'. I would expect more from a man with a 145 IQ. I'm dumbfounded that someone so intelligent would have such disregard for his own health. 

Shortly after that visit Dad went to the doctor. They said he'd need to have a section of his colon removed. The sugeon opened him up, saw cancer everywhere, including his liver. The doc sewed him back up and gave him 6 months to live. My dad, a paratrooper in the 82nd airborne, a demolition specialist, who fought in all seven campaigns of WWII, was as tough and as stubborn as they come. So it was no suprise that he held on to life for another three years. I am grateful that he lived long enough to meet his namesake, my son, Alex. 

My father, Alex and my son, Alex, May 1990

I am also grateful that he gave heaven a nudge to send me my beautiful daughter, Hannah. How you ask? I had a miscarriage in March of 1992. I still think about the baby I lost every year on Halloween, the baby's due date. I was so overwrought by the miscarriage that I called my dad crying to inform him that that expected baby was unexpectedly lost. At this point, he was having more bad days than good. It was rare to get him on the phone because his health was fading fast. This day I was lucky enough to reach him. He consoled me, telling me he knew another baby was coming soon. I told him I didn't want to even try anymore as heartache was unbearable. He continued to assure me another baby was on the way. 

Several weeks went by and my father passed on June 3, 1992. I was distraught, so much so that I didn't realized until hours before boarding a plane to New Orleans that I missed my period. I ran out and bought a EPT test. You know where the story goes from here. Like all parents, I believe my daughter is a gift from heaven, however I can say with absolute certainty that somehow my father had something to do with it. When Hannah was born, I was amazed that her baby photo and my father's baby photo look almost identical. 

My father as an infant - held by his dad, Edward

Hannah as an infant looking very similar to my dad

This anniversary of my fathers death is bittersweet. I feel him by my side, offering me strength and support as I go through the most challenging chapter of my life. Perhaps my random colonscophy that led me to find my cancer early is all part of a plan he's working on with God. A plan to give me more years than he had so I can enjoy a long, healthy life with Greg and see all my kids have kids one day. I know it's a romantic thought, but it's a good thought that gets me through this crazy process. 

Thank you, Dad.  

Top Left: Dad & me. Bottom Left: Richard & Alex