I FORGOT TO PUBLISH HEALTH UPDATE #5

Each time we open a new door, surprises greet us on the other side.  Having spoken with the oncologist, Tuesday morning, before Thanksgiving, we learned that stage one of my treatment plan has changed—again.  Friday, after our Thanksgiving feast, most of which will be prepared by my husband and sons, I’ll have the port inserted in readiness for chemo to begin on Monday, in-patient for five days, 24 hours a day.

In-patient because the intensity of the dosage of chemo is in need of constant  monitoring in hopes that my organ systems will withstand the stiff martini of medications, which will be shaken, not stirred.  (no emoji smiley faces, here).  In the aftermath of having absorbed an intensified five day round of chemo, I’ll be home for sixteen days to recover from side effects before being hospitalized for another intensive five-day round.  (First thing I did after hearing everything the oncologist had to say was to order a baseball cap attached to shoulder length, dark brown synthetic hair from Amazon.  Then, I wondered whether shimmers can be tied to strands of a synthetic wig.  Ultimately, my dear friend who shimmers me up suggested the old college try, and today, hat, hair and shimmers are getting along, just fine ...)

As to radiation and surgery, we’ve not yet received word concerning what to expect after my first two rounds of chemo except for the possibility that a third round may prove necessary.

Thank goodness, I  have lots to feel thankful for!  David is here; Barry and his crew flew in, last night, which was Ravi’s 5th b/d, so Will and I partied at dinner with Celina. Steven, Ravi, David and Ravi’s Nani, followed by Will and David making a two car airport run to retrieve Barry’s family while Ravi and I, having readied ourselves for bed, snuggled up while enjoying a live (recorded) production of The Little Mermaid on TV until our five year old b/d girl, arms flung above the velvety throw pillow which had gently cushioned her spun gold head of wavy hair,  repositioned  her slender, long legged body so as to sprawl out ever so comfortably on our living room couch, and nothing could entice her big blue eyes to remain open once the even cadence of my sweet grand daughter's breath signaled my awareness to glance away from the spectacular, musical performance so as to play witness to Ravi’s long lashed, fully spirited, big blue eyes closing only ten minutes before the garage door, opening, announced the arrival of Barry’s family, who, having flown from the west coast to land in the desert, were eager to join in the festivities, which will continue throughout the week, culminating with Ravi’s b/d party on Saturday.🎂🥰

Tomorrow, after tonight’s ‘group’ sleepover, we plan to take Trent, Corey and Stessa to Target, where each one will choose a toy to bring to the local fire station where Toys For Tots are collected.  It’s become our annual tradition to enjoy ‘the gift of giving’ during the holidays with our grandchildren, who surprise the firemen with a chocolate cake that says THANK YOU FOR KEEPING US SAFE THROUGHOUT THE YEAR.  And with so much to look forward to and feel grateful for, imagine my spirit smiling while reflecting over my good fortune to enjoy every happy plan that lies immediately ahead with treasured family and friends.  As to our Thanksgiving feast, the turkey is flying in all tressed up, fully dressed and hot to trot from AJ’s market, while favorite recipes and ingredients are on the kitchen counters awaiting preparation in the capable hands of the trio of chefs who were homegrown, led by their father.  On Thanksgiving Day, the kitchen will be Marie’s domaine, as timing, concerning the readiness of each dish that completes our festive feast proves to be an organizational feat, over which Marie will assume complete command.😊

Each of my attempts to help is met with one loving voice or another reminding me to sit down, relax, and enjoy the week ahead, because ‘we got this’.  And I relish every memory of my family creating a very thankful Thanksgiving, which was thoroughly enjoyed by all. 

Will joins me in sending you our best wishes for a happy, healthy Thanksgiving, leading into a holiday season celebrated with loved ones from near and far💃🏻🕺🏼 
❤️🌈🌻Annie

Sent from my iPad

TOO MUCH CHEMO IS NOT A GOOD THING

As I was hospitalized for more than half of December (Dec. 2-7, as planned for chemo and then again Dec, 13-24, unplanned), both rocky rides, much of which came as a surprise to my team of specialists, has swirled a myriad of medical experiences into a goulash that was far from delish—and the fact that I’ve been on pain meds for weeks has swirled so many thoughts together as to have made a darkly colored kaleidoscope of my brain’s most recent memories.   And now—on the up side, though it’s true that my body’s reactions scared us, one and all, the fact that every team of specialists, who conferred with each other, saved my organ systems from caving into each onslaught, so as to come through rampant infections, unscathed marvels me tothis very day.

As to the holidays, they passed during the dark days of my struggle, so I hope your holidays offered festive memories of family gatherings, as the true meaning of the holidays is meant to gather loved ones together so that every heart, which graciously embraces the next, does it’s part in creating a family circle that demonstrates the expansive capacity of every person’s healthy mindset so that our Tender hearted children do not unknowingly absorb mixed messages from adults whose latent anxieties dampen everyone’s pure and heartfelt expression of joy.

Having reviewed much of what I wrote during those difficult days when my medical teams were rebalancing life sustaining drugs, which coated my healthy organs, today’s sense of clarity insists that my apologies are humbly offered to any of you who attempted to fathom the streams of consciousness, which retrospectively may have made sense only to me ...

Though these past two weeks tested my host of inner strengths to the max, in the aftermath of that perilous ride, good news rises above the level of mental sludge that saw me following my doctors’ suggestions as patiently, peaceably and calmly as possible, because I knew that their training was bound to cook up a stew of remedies that would far surpass any brainstorming on my end of the spectrum ...

HEALTH UPDATE #7 HAIR TODAY GONE TOMORROW

In retrospect, five straight days of chemo, dripping into my port and throughout all of my organ systems, 24/7, landed such a heavy handed, sucker punch to my body that Monday, Dec. 9th, offered up the first day I could walk more than a step or two without reaching for a nearby bed or couch or easy chair upon which to lean against, catch my breath and free myself of lightheadedness as though to create brain space for insight to reconnect my sense of wholeness so that, having steadied myself to stand on my own, I’d feel at one with clarity, lucidity and productivity concerning my capacity to focus ever more objectively upon the person I choose to grow to be, each and every day.

If we back up a bit to Sat. Dec. 7th, I arrived home from the hospital just in time to celebrate my 76th B/D on the 8th, which popped up as naturally as if we’d turned the page in a pop up book, showcasing my treasured family marching naturally, one by one, into my bedroom where circling round, they’d smiled so gaily while I blew out the candles on my cake as to make me feel as if the circus elephants had all lined up in readiness to dance, round and round, inside my noggin where, trunks wrapping round tails, they’d welcomed the arrival of a preschool leader, whose insight concerning how best to create a simplistic, harmonic celebration was utterly natural when, otherwise, adult mindsets may have remained focused upon crises looming directly ahead, leading every spirit straight down into the dumps—not my style, right?  And not Ravi’s either!  You see, each time I envision a happy, golden haired child leading my loved ones around my bedside in a waltz-like fashion, somehow, my natural connection to courage revives.

Earlier that day, I’d asked Will, who continues to grow into a heartfelt caregiver extraordinaire, to drive me to have my hair shampooed, and you can believe me when I say that getting myself into the car, salon, and over to the shampoo bowl had felt like empowering myself to shimmy up my own personal flag staff after having scaled the peak of Mt. Everest.  On the other hand, just imagine how great I’d felt as each shaft of my hair was shampooed and blown dry straight down from my scalp so as to swing freely round my shoulders after it had not been cleansed for ten days.  As to how I’d felt after mustering the courage to ask Tina to come in on a Sunday to which she’d replied—Of course.  What time?  I’d felt my king sized bed magically transform into a magic carpet just as years ago it had served as the family’s playpen when three abdominal surgeries (following an auto accident) saw me pretty much bed bound for close to two years when my three sons were small.  Why not wait till Monday for the shampoo?  The salon is closed Sundays and Mondays.  And as I had appointments lined up at the clinic on Monday and Tuesday, waiting till Wednesday would have stretched my patience, concerning personal hygiene, beyond my endurance. 

Guess what I’m actually saying is this:  Boy, did it feel great to have a good hair day, last week!  And that statement proved exceptionally true since, this week sees me having a no hair day, every day—Just a bit of dark humor to ready myself to experience that which the doctor compassionately cautioned his dark haired patient to expect.  You see, over the long run, I’ve been a long haired gal, so my scalp and I are bound to miss our ‘little buddy’ being that we three have been teammates for more than 3/4 of a century, and though I’ve been assured that ‘she’s’ bound to grow back, I may have trouble recognizing her as my own, since, before molting, she’d always been brunette; however upon re-emergence, I’m expecting her to be as white as a swan, sprouting short feathers, and as she and I have enjoyed a long feathered friendship since graduation from high school, that too will be quite a change.

Quite a change to get used to—right?—on the other hand, set a swan free, and if it flies back, it was yours all along—so perhaps the same is true of each strand of hair that’s been set free, meaning that upon leaving the window to my soul open, who knows what may surprise my eyes when the unexpected comes home to roost?

Rather than brunette and thick, or feather light and white, who knows what my scalp will feel readied to sprout, next; I mean, seriously, each time my subconscious has sent an intuitive message to tango with my conscious awareness, some portion of my connection to solid complacency has been rocked to its core, so let’s not be shocked if I sprout a purple spiked do, and here’s why that could be true:  If there’s one thing I’ve learned about life, time after time, it’s this:  Whenever I choose to walk over the threshold of a new doorway with positive focus intact, surprises await, none of which are boring.

MEDICAL UPDATE #6 AND MUSINGS

First of all, if you just want the low down on how I’m feeling on chemo, right now, two emojis pretty much bring us up to snuff, so if brevity is your thing, here they are and off you go.👍😊

Secondly, I’d planned to answer questions asked in emails and texts earlier in the week with one fell swoop but happily, family and friends have been stopping by minimizing my time to write, so let's not be surprised if those answers (to questions aired throughout the week) shape up into a soliloquy, which this post is likely to become.😊

Thirdly, your loving concern is more deeply appreciated than words can clearly convey.

And now, on to update #6—with this cautionary note—As Angie says:  ‘Annie, I sit down to relax with a glass of wine before reading one your tomes,’ (And since I’ve no clue as to how much will pop out of my head once today’s stream of consciousness takes off on its own—if you decide to ride sidekick with me then at least you’ve been clearly cautioned, so please buckle up—here we go!😊

Generally speaking, we offer up ‘not-so-good news’ first in hopes of closing a conversation with better news, which lifts our spirits, so with that insight in mind, here’s the first round of not so good news—

Following Monday’s 9:30AM appt. (Dec. 2nd) with my oncologist (whose office is on the same campus as the hospital), we learned that a bed on the oncology floor would be unavailable until afternoon, so Will and I, taking a moment to raise the flag of patience to fly at full mast, decided to go home and putter around until a call from admitting suggested a bed had been vacated and readied for our arrival.

And now—here comes the first round of better news: 

The call came at 1:30 pm—We arrived at 2pm—I was admitted at 3pm 

Have I mentioned that being admitted to this particular hospital feels like checking into a five star resort?

For example—

Seen daily in the hospital’s cheerful lobby is a pianist performing on a baby grand so as to soothe jangling nerves.  Today, I was told that a violinist was engaged for the very same reason.

Whenever I order a meal from the extensive menu, the person taking my order answers the phone:  Room service, how may I help you?  Then a delicious (I kid you not) breakfast, lunch or dinner arrives punctually in keeping with my personal timing requests.  So while hospitals, run by Big Brother (uh—make that big business) are run into the ground by the insatiable greed of CEO’s and shareholders, whose unquenchable thirst for wealth matches that of ‘His Majesty’—no not King Midas—I’m referencing the first dictator to run for presidential office in the USA and WIN (what???)—dt, who, being such a blackguard, receives no signs of respect from me, and as such, I’ll not pay tribute to his domineering presence by capitalizing any letter that announces his name.

Since the mainstay of my positive attitude depends upon recharging my spirit’s smile from the inside out, I’ve been rebalancing frustration by occupying my mind with memories so corny as to engage quite frequently with my funny bone, which declares—What am I doing on an oncology floor, where talk of cancer with a deeply caring staff is much too sobering for me to partake in, day after day.  So, let’s whisk me away to the children’s hospital, where I can play with kids my own age!  And each time a train of thought is made up of insights as corny as these, which choose to tunnel straight through the dark side of my mind toward the light side of life, ASAP, we can take a moment to clean out my closet in case I'm still hiding any subconscious skeletons, witches and goblins from my conscious self, which, awaiting to spring out from my past and scare me silly, sees all of my hair fall out!

As one close friend suggests, ‘if ever there’s a time for dark humor, that time is now, and quoting another close friend, who (along with Will, Sam and me) has been one of ‘the guys’ for nearly 6 decades—‘this too shall pass’. 

So, having entertained my appetite for ‘corn’, inherited from my high spirited dad, I feel it’s time to air my second round of not-so-good-news. 

With patience and courage worn on my sleeve while the decline of my health remained misdiagnosed (though I’d sought professional help from several doctors, over many months), I’ve longed to meet up with Confucius in hopes of heeding a few words of wisdom flowing naturally from the mind of a sage into mine, because two of my inner strengths (patience and courage) experienced sound reason to slide downward in the hospital on Monday night, freeing repressed fear to surface and slide down my cheeks on a quiet river of tears.

Though initially that emotional reaction did not feel good, I felt better once awareness of inner need to release repressed tension offered my mindful connection to wholeness to identify a sense of subconscious relief, which upon peeking out from behind my wall of denial, encouraged me to identify the main cause of Monday night’s short-lived shift in my positive attitude, and here is what insight, dawning, offered me—my valiant team encountered a problem implanting and sealing the chemo needle into my port (ensuring no leakage of meds, which would have invaded healthy tissue unable to withstand toxic effects that would place the present state of my health at greater risk)—and in addition to repressed anxiety seeping through my defensive wall of denial, a build up of repressed frustration was aroused, as well, based in the fact that my nurses on day shift, who had proactively ordered my variety pack of chemo, several times from the hospital pharmacy (STAT) did not receive the goods until 10 PM, meaning that changes concerning flushing   my chemo lines, which must take place every 24 hours, are now scheduled to start at 11pm, night after night, when my absence of energy wants to visualize nothing other than fairies on my pillow.  Over these past several days, I’ve come to understand why my oncologist had clearly stated his preference for orchestrating flushing several chemo tubes (as well as various tubes connected to auxiliary bags, flowing with meds necessary  to coat my vital  organs protectively).  With six bags hanging, port detail at 11PM, nightly was a serious deal.  In fact, one nurse would recite the computer readings for each bag, aloud, followed by her partner's voice repeating whatever she'd heard before writing whatever was necessary into my chart.  And so rather than all of this taking place during daylight hours when I’d be more apt to feel awake—unfortunately, the pharmacy had proved to be as sluggish as my bowel.

On that first night, by the time my cheerful oncology nurse received several bags of liquid meds sent from the pharmacy  (each of which drips precisely throughout every one of my body systems by way of my port), trouble erupted in River City, again, because one by one, three oncology nurses (who had called each other to my bedside), found it necessary to manipulate the port, freshly implanted into my chest, which being two days post-op, proved a painful procedure to endure for an hour before nurse #3 achieved success after heightening levels of pain exposed deeply repressed fears that revealed themselves, little by little, to me as if my nervous system, acting like a coffee percolator, had plugged into a slow drip, where subconscious tension, secreted from my conscious awareness over these last several months, had finally released my whole mind to consciously acknowledge the intensity of my stress level, which had been hidden from the conscious portion of my mind until my defense system’s wall of denial, experiencing this mini melt down, freed my entire think tank to switch tracks toward the dark side, momentarily, until my power of intuition arose to guide my natural emotional reaction to adversity toward transforming ‘bad news’ into ‘better news’ as this insight emerged from my bright side, again:  Once my bravado was exposed to me, my smarts absorbed a balanced perspective of fear-based emotion arising, meaning that as soon as my fluid state of mind came to understand that it had cautiously entranced in incoming lane on the freeway, where emotional traffic felt a natural flow to blend in with the logical side, my outlook rebalanced, freeing my wall of denial from feeling need to unconsciously mask every fear-based emotion that my defense system had chosen to block from the portion of my brain where conscious awareness resides.  In short, I could feel both vulnerable and courageous without being perfectly brave.

Thank goodness I’ve chosen to participate proactively in sessions of EMDR therapy, each of which inspires me to work naturally toward connecting story dots that had remained invisible until heightened levels of patience and courage hooked into the emergence of humility (necessary to remove dark lenses when re-examining the traits of others until 'forgotten details' concerning shared experiences are aroused to emerge, fleshing in and rounding out memories, which, having been remembered incompletely, have been in need of reviewing, so that each time an invisible dot reappeared during therapy, an insight laden, bigger picture appeared, exposing details that my defense system had misplaced within subconscious storage so that a moment from the past was remembered in such a slanted manner as to fulfill whatever fantasy my ego felt need to believe about another person’s strengths and vulnerabilities in comparison to my own whenever conflict arose between us.  Over time, I absorbed the fact that, like all defense systems, mine is programmed to unconsciously feel inner need to whitewash my traits while darkening those of a loved one when his/her perceptions rubbed me the wrong way, unless I was darkening my own, while whitewashing theirs.   Oh, what a spectrum of conundrums exists within every subconscious, which are then passed down from one generation to the next  What I’m attempting to say is this:  When a deeply treasured love relationship falls into the pits and clear communications breakdown that due to the fact that invisible dots in need of subconscious emergence have need to be reconnected in a well-balanced way before both sides of a story relate to reality with a greater degree of consistency, leading toward memories of a ‘story-line’, sharing in AHA! moments where hard feeling tend to soften, naturally, on both sides.  On the other hand, both sides have need to work toward reconnecting invisible dots or else discussions are futile, because in the absence of objectivity, misunderstanding continue to traverse a slanted path, and in the absence of heightened objectivity a deeply treasured relationship in need of restructuring continues to weaken for the worse.  Why?  Because, relationships are as alive as we are, and thus, true to life, nothing stays the same—some are consciously enriched while others unconsciously, shirking accountability, refuse to accept their fair share of angry words spat back and forth, and eventually, it makes sense for one or both to shrink back and away from enduring more of the same.  And then there are those who feel need to shriek, bullying their opponents to give in or here's your hat, what's your hurry, and they have the most to gain from seeking insight as to why an uncoached defense system becomes your worst enemy as did mine.  In short, every relationship would improve, naturally, if both parties, whose emotional wounds are still subconsciously raw thus unhealed, could brainstorm together toward identifying those times when one defense system or the other had unconsciously white washed one person’s traits while darkening the other’s, making an angel of one while turning an opponent’s point of view into the devil re-incarnate.

And with that last thought in mind of the negatively focused attitudes of opponents growing toward becoming teammates, who do more than value (in that they consciously prioritize positively focused conflict resolution, you can see why I worked along with my sons to develop a well practiced line of self disciplined emotional control during moments fraught with conflict, so that in retrospect, our thoughts were trained to feel likely to track logic than may be true of those who have little conscious memory as to when their emotion-driven filters uncap.

Upon seeking a silver lining while consciously steering our family’s minds toward strengthening our fledgling connection to logic during moments that would have otherwise have flooded our brains with emotional tension too static to think straight, eventually, we found ourselves eating our own barbed words less often than would be true if The Line of Emotional Control had not popped out of the creative center of my mind while guiding three rambunctious boys to brainstorm through family conflicts while everyone of us, small and tall, directed our thinking caps toward drawing forth positively focused trains of thought based in growth spurts of generosity of spirit, which would manifest like magic while were engaged in brainstorming sessions, led by a leader, who passed the talking stick around the table—and the leader was me only one fifth of the time, and over time, we all learned to offer our opponents the benefit of the doubt until depth in understanding was achieved, again by tall and small, culminating in a solution, acceptable to all, which would surprisingly pop out of one of our minds, and since the ‘voice of authority’ was not the sole property of the parent,  thus were the values of self respect and mutual respect absorbed as priorities ever deeply into our minds, no matter our age.  BTW, do you know that values and priorities are not the same, which is why each time values and priorities clash, a treasured relationship tends to crash head on ...

During recent years, upon glancing back over our extended family time line, I've gained insight after insight into why passive aggressive reactions concerning unresolved transgressions poke at hot buttons with such subtly as to be missed by everyone involved except for the two who are still doing the emotional tango, which has become so complex as to tangle up two minds within subconscious conundrums as would a pair of unpracticed Argentinian dancers, whose footwork can’t unhook, so rather than dancing forward ever more gracefully while accepting each other’s human vulnerabilities, minds, which continue to lock horns with unfathomable emotional complexity tend to make good people feel jumpy, unnecessarily. 

And so we come to see how today’s lengthy train of intuitive thought encourages me to clean up my act most especially when the same shit hits the fan so as not to free uncapped fear to shatter my natural sense of wholeness as spontaneously as if my inner strengths proved to be as fragile as a glass, slipping out of hand, smashing to the floor.  

 As with every life experience, which has been mine to review, I’ve found it imperative that the bright side of my brain gains conscious control over the dark side (as in—whoops!  Here it comes!) if I hope to embrace a self inspired, strong spirited, well balanced, peaceful, forgiving attitude that clears my current path to sit the negatively focused side of human nature in time out, away from revisiting harsh assessments of others, most especially assessments dealt out during times of crises when insults, bound to leap out of our mouths, arouse a pair of defense systems to nurse grievances made up of defensive misperceptions that caused hard feelings to layer up toward perpetuity if details concerning both sides of the same story are never blended to fit smoothly together as would a 500 piece puzzle languishing inside a box with no picture on the top, which is why feuding Hatfield’s and McCoy’s handed down smoking guns to their young, while we, who consider ourselves highly civilized folk choose to holster silencers, targeted at each other’s broken hearts whenever bullets made of passive aggressive facial expressions and body language speak as angrily as if angry birds had blasted insults loudly off of barbed tongues.

So what, you may ask, sparked my power of intuition to feel compelled to turn the spotlight of insight toward this particular train of thought, today?  The fact that life’s too short to invite passive aggressive attitudes into my presence without expecting my voice to speak up in defense of preserving my retrained peace of mind—most especially when times of crises, opening my mind to personal need to grow ever more receptive to love and logic pouring forth generosity of spirit so freely in a healing manner, back and forth, as to see each of us achieving leaps of faith by becoming ever more consciously aware of personal need to receive love unblemished by transgressions left unhealed from the past.

Having absorbed today’s post, you’d think my days have been spent rereading TUESDAYS WITH MORRY, repeatedly, when one reading had affected my absorption of the depths of ‘The Golden Rule’ (more about that later) so thoroughly as to inspire me to love ever more deeply, expansively, conscientiously, compassionately and kindly by choosing to create a peaceful place of solitude in which to ponder (think Walden Pond)  where my ability to reflect ever more objectively concerning each other’s darkest moments when (depth perception blinded by intense emotion,  clashed furiously or fearfully against common sense, which, once knocked out cold, releases one processor or the other to feel driven to lean so far over cautionary, yellow lines as to force deeply valued friendships to run head on, off the road, where deeply wounded victims on both sides have no conscious clue of having indulged in self inflicted, highly defensive, passive aggressive misinterpretations of each other’s motivations, and if this negativity of thought does not have a short shelf than how can the eyes of love, which are the windows of my soul, open to extend my generosity of spirit so hopefully as to welcome you home with a song in my heart.

😊❤️🌈🌻Annie

PS

As today’s stream of consciousness took six days to straighten itself out (Whew!) I checked out of the hospital on Saturday, with no chemo side effects, as of yet, other than fatigue and lose of appetite.  Wouldn't you know it—now I can eat anything and everything, and my system says—who needs it!  Though my logic agrees with everyone whose either enticing me or forcing me to eat grub to serve as fuel to empower my whole self to grow so strong as to cause this foreign invader into full retreat. 

Hey!  Perhaps, my need to release a spectrum of intuitive musings has fortified my subconscious awareness of holding chemo effects at bay—Seriously—the human brain is a mysterious, magnificent, complex machine—to the moon and back—more than once! 

No pun intended when I add: News about Houston will appear in the next post or this one will never be sent😊

Hoping you’re well,

🙋🏻‍🌈🌻

MIND SPIRIT AND BODY ON THE SAME PAGE

Medical update #6 is ripe for printing
I’ve just been too busy to change names, which
I do to protect my relationships, knowing that
Many are not as open as I am to exposing
The darker side of our personalities for fear of
Being wrongly judged; however having been
Wrongly judged based on the brain is programmed to
Believe what works best to whitewash
Our own misperceptions, misbehaviors and
Word choices, which prove less than generous
I figure, what the heck, there’s nothing
To lose, perhaps more to gain from baring all of
Me to me as well as baring both sides of me to
You, too, because the more accepting we are about
Our own vulnerabilities and each other’s
The better equipt we each become at refocusing
Our sites so as to redirect our lives rather than
Hearing ourselves say, all too often—
Hey! Where’d I make a wrong turn?

As today is my birthday, one couple (our
Closest friends), Steven’s family and
My niece and nephew are coming over in
Celebration of life, love, learning and fun
All of which (with a bit of chemo thrown in)
Prove necessary to spark my spirit’s
Role in leading the next charge toward healing
My body, so, I’m about to close my eyes to
Rest, and upon awakening, I may feel ready
To post Health Update #6, which, please feel
Fairly cautioned, tends toward running on and on
And on and ...

MEDICAL UPDATE #5

Sooo—this post was penned before Thanksgiving when celebrating with my family preoccupied so much of my time that publishing this train of thought fell right out of my mind.

 After speaking with the oncologist, here is my treatment plan.  (Each time we open a new door, a surprise awaits on the other side.). On Friday, after enjoying a wonderful day of Thanksgiving with my family, I’ll have the port inserted in readiness to accept a chemo drip, which will be administered, beginning on Monday, in-patient for five days.

In-patient, why?  Because the intensity of continuous dosage 24/7 for five days straight will need monitoring to make certain of my kidney and liver function withstanding the cocktail of medications, which will be shaken, not stirred.  After five days of hospitalization, I’ll be home for three weeks before returning to the hospital to absorb another in-house, five-day round.  (First thing I did after listening to everything the oncologist prepared us to expect was to order a baseball cap with dark brown synthetic hair attached from Amazon.  (My dear friend had me laughing while I watched her tie shimmers into the wig, which is attached to the cap.)

As to radiation and surgery, we’ve not yet received word concerning what to expect after two rounds of chemo (except for the possibility that a third round may be necessary—let’s hope not ...).

Thank goodness for the timing of Thanksgiving offering my spirit reason to muse over so much to feel thankful for!😊  Barry, Marie, Tony and Ray landed safely and since Ravi’s 5th b/d fell on Nov. 26th, Will and I partied at dinner with Celina, Steven, Ravi, David and Nani Lupe before making the airport run to pick up Barry’s crew, two days before holiday festivities commence, inspiring contagious smiles to dance forth connecting our hearts throughout the week, culminating with Ravi’s dinosaur themed b/d party on Saturday.🎂🥰

After our first ‘group’ sleepover’, we planned to take
our three munchkins to Target, where each one would choose a gift to bring to the local fire station where Toys For Tots are collected.  It’s become our annual tradition to enjoy ‘the gift of giving’ during the holidays with our grandchildren, who surprise the firemen with a chocolate cake that expresses this sentiment in icing on the top: Thank you for keeping us safe throughout the year.

And with so much to look forward to and feel grateful for, imagine my spirit smiling while reflecting over my good fortune to enjoy every happy plan that lies immediately ahead with treasured family and friends.  As to our Thanksgiving feast, the turkey flew in all tressed up, fully dressed and hot to trot from AJ’s market, while favorite recipes, placed on the kitchen counter with care, await preparation in the hands of a trio of chefs, all of whom were homegrown😊

Will joins me in sending you our best wishes for a happy, healthy Thanksgiving, leading into a holiday season celebrated with loved ones from near and far💃🏻🕺🏼
 Love you!
❤️🌈🌻Annie

MEDICAL UPDATE #4

As this post was written last week, everything mentioned took place several days ago with the exception of the very last line. 

Last week, after I’d undergone a cardiac MRI that pounded away for an hour and a half, Will spoke with the thoracic cardiac surgeon at the renown clinic, nearby, who relayed the fact to us that the surgeon in Houston who developed the life saving procedure, which, hopefully I am a candidate to receive, believes (after studying all of my tests, CT's and MRI's) that the sarcoma tumor in my lung is resectable without removing my heart, and once the Houston surgeon confers with his colleague, he plans to call the surgeon at the clinic near our home to confirm a plan of action, which I’ll post once both teams of doctors decide upon a course of treatment that will get my treatment going ASAP since yesterday’s phone call enhanced our optimistic outlook concerning this procedure taking place in Houston sometime around the new year, because their medical protocol suggests several weeks of chemo preceding this particular surgery.  So our family’s plan for Barry, Marie, Tony and Ray to fly in on Tues. (we’ll roll and fry potato knishes on Wed.) offers all of our spirits a natural upper.

With hopes of sending news that’s even more conducive to rejuvenating positive focus, imagine our sighs of relief after hearing that the surgeon in Houston, who developed this highly delicate technique, considers me a candidate to undergo surgery successfully after studying all of my MRI’s and CT scans to date!

Feeling deeply grateful to have received such good news, Will, David (who has been here for weeks) and I met Steven and Ravi (after gymnastics) for tacos, last night, suggesting Margarita time. 

Tonight, we’re off to The Cheesecake Factory, ala Mary Poppins, because every culinary pleasure, which I’d deemed off limits before this diagnosis, is sure to make the medicine go down with a smile.  And that’s why tonight is hot fudge sundae time.

At this moment, Will and I are in the car on our way to the hospital.
Chemo begins, today. 🙋🏻‍🌈🌻Annie💪

PS
😘
After our morning appt. with the oncologist, a hospital bed was not yet available, so we chose to drive home and await a call to return.  I can’t believe how much of life is sitcom material as long as our attitudes remain balanced to go with the flow by developing a tendency to empower our sense of humor to consciously recharge human nature’s bright side, every day 🙃👩🏻💪❤️😘🌈🌻

THOUGHTS OF YESTERYEAR ARISE, CAUTIONING MY POSITIVELY FOCUSED ATTITUDE TO STRENGTHEN MY CONNECTION TO FORGIVENESS, IMMEASURABLY

As you may have noticed, intuitive thoughts tend to flit around like fireflies inside my mind, illuminating 75 years worth of life experiences, which is why, upon diving into my processor’s well developed sense of depth perception, insights swim up to surface as if to expose love lessons, swirling round and round within the conscious portion of my brain until one storyline, acting like a jumping bean on a trampoline, exclaims—life is short—no time to waste standing in line—Me first!  Me first!

And now that today’s self propelled, intuitive train of thought has begun to tunnel out of my subconscious as though all on its own, the spotlight of insight is shining directly at the main reason as to why tracking all the way back, beginning with birth, so as to advance forward through each next stage of my life by relating true stories in an organized fashion tends to stall whenever a current experience feels so consequential as to detour my storyteller’s voice away from yesteryear’s tale so as to free my mind to move forward at a brisk pace toward placing my voice on center stage in real time whenever an unexpected experience crashes head on into my innermost desire to express how much my inner life yearns to calm its current self down by turning my peaceful accumulation of smarts away from diving ever more deeply into yesterday’s potential darkness, where despair has awaited to eat my spirit for lunch, suggesting that my intuitive powers have needed to grow so well practiced as to resolve a many layered mystery, which had escaped my processor's comprehension of family secrets so scary as to have been buried alive during childhood until just now:  You see, many years  ago, while speaking to an audience of seniors who had gathered in the auditorium of their synagogue in hopes of absorbing that which I'd been asked to express about the role of grand parenting as seen from the perspective of a parent, whose children were not yet fully grown, I heard myself say that it was the responsibility of every empty nester to avail themselves of activities, which would stimulate their minds to feel content apart from feeling fully alive only while interacting with their adult offspring’s family life as if all three generations had continued to reside under one roof where the elders had unconsciously manipulated  their emotional needs to rise above the heads of two younger generations as if the tutorage of seniors was to be deemed by one and all as infallibly right.

Needless to say, while standing at the podium, smiling at my parents, beaming up at me from their front row, center seats flanked by couples, who were their friends, my choice of words had successfully sugar coated my meaning, based in the fact that my parents’ facial expressions had shone with pleasure each time they heard ‘the speaker’ in me refer to each of them as exemplifying a style of grand parenting that was much more helpful than hindering to my continued development as a parent, myself.  And upon stating the fact that diplomacy, on both sides, proves as politically savvy in your home and mine as had once been true in DC, my parents' bursts of good natured laughter let me know that they got the point without feeling the least bit pierced by finding one or the other as the butt of any story, all of which were true to life, none of which highligthted good guys or bad guys, just family members, made up of three generations, who'd ‘misthought’ they'd each known best as to what each other was thinking or feeling or believing when in truth, the subconscious portion of our brains keep secrets from our conscious selves.  And if we can't tell what or why we're assuming 'this or that to be true' when common sense suggests that it’s almost impossible for the conscious portion of our brain’s to penetrate our defensive walls of denial so as to fathom the existence of deeper truths secreted subconsciously then why believe we ‘know’ what is actually taking place inside two complex machines, readily considered to be your human brain and mine?

Then as my meeting with seniors began to wrap itself up, because I‘d  felt as if my very last intuitive thought of the evening had readied itself to be aired, I remember releasing a stream of words, which offered my processor sound reason to feel profoundly affected by the collective gasp released as the minds my audience absorbed one last insight, which floated out of the depths of my mind as though all on its own—

It’s my mindful responsibility to ensure that my spirit breathes one second longer than my body—
Whew!  Heavy, right?

Today, I’ve lived to see why a chorus of sages from out of the past thought it wise to swoop down from on high at that very moment to whisper those words of universal wisdom into my ear, thus empowering my presence to give voice to a belief that has instilled my smarts with the capacity to  appeal to my intuitive powers to reach ever more deeply into my subconscious so as to aid the conscious portion of my mind to grow past episodic events, which had aroused PTDS to invade my clarity of mind, causing my spirit to feel so utterly exhausted as to crash until such time that with the help of EMDR therapy, my clarity of mind felt fully restored and thoroughly relaxed to the point that I became ever more fully aware of need to remain ever more deeply connected to my host of inner strengths complimenting my personal vulnerabilities, which may crash, from time to time, but refuse to burn as long as the pilot light igniting my spirit is not blown out by a wind so bitter as to extinguish the resilient power of love, which buoys my ship to focus upon my inner compass that guides my brain to calmly pass through each next emotional storm until the sunny shoreline of familial harmony is within reach of every good natured soul that has conscientiously grown toward freeing bygones to go out with the tide, forevermore.

And now that my intuitive powers have clearly stated today’s positively focused stream of consciousness, if you think I had any clue of penning this post upon awakening, today, please think again, because the portion of my subconscious that compelled my fingers to trip lightly all over my keyboard so as to clarify this heartfelt, declarative statement, which empowers the person I've consciously grown to be, today, to interact solely with minds that prove so lovingly forgiving of past transgressions as to breathe naught but good will when in my presence, most especially when every heartfelt offer of positive energy must not merely give lip service to forgiveness, because recent history dictates that my well practiced power of intuition will feel any hint of negative energy stealthily invades the peaceful existence that sustains my strength of spirit during this time of family crises, which directs me to crew my ship with hearts holding onto no secreted disharmonies, which may inadvertently throw my inner strength of positive focus off course most especially since my first five day, in-patient administration of intensive chemotherapy begins, tomorrow—which is only a day away.  As to my 5th update concerning the medical plan, which keeps changing based upon my team of sarcoma experts consulting with sarcoma experts in Houston, hopefully I'll have time to post my comprehension of what to expect next before the sun comes out, tomorrow ...  as for now, tis time to ready myself as Ravi, one of three perennial sunshines of my life (being that Tony and Ray flew back to the coast, yesterday) is due to arrive, momentarily, being that Steven knows how naturally his daughter's presence lifts the serious musings of my mind with her adorable, high spirited imaginative hijinks—lucky me!

PS—just saw that my 4th medical update has been languishing in drafts, suggesting my believing that I'm keeping up when in truth, my mind is stuffed with so much stuff that's been left undone so as to boggle my sense of clarity without disturbing so much as an inkling of my practiced capacity to center my patience—ooooohm ...