HURRICANE IAN

I’ve been turning my weather app, on and off

 I have dear cousins in Florida

I’m concerned for their well being

I’ve received confirmation of their safety and yet

I switch briefly to the weather channel as if

I need reassurance, daily, that—

The eye of Hurricane Ian does not get so tricky as to turn itself around in a blink and head, pell mell, straight toward Miami.

Though my heart goes out to all who have been experiencing grievous repercussions from having been terrifyingly targeted by the eye of this horrific storm, I can’t fault myself for feeling relieved to know my loved ones remain safe from harm, and though my cousins’ individual residences are wet and wind blown, each remains wholly intact.  So now tis time to turn my attention toward pledging my donation in heartfelt support of those families less fortunate than mine.

👩🏻Annie

Oh—one more thing—Tis good to note that this vicious storm is named Ian rather than Irene—perhaps this welcome change in gender is based in the fact that well-educated bright young women, who, over recent years, have flooded their field with female meteorologists, have determined that symbolic storminess, being equally attributed to the impassioned temperament of women and men, has constituted need for change for the better that makes sense, because—having placed tongue in cheek—after all has been clearly said and done—men are supposedly from Mars, and Mars is the God of War, who leaves devastating destruction in his wake, while Venus, being the Goddess of Love, is all about heartfelt reconnection, renewal and reconstruction.

As to why I felt drawn to add this postscript—I have no conscious clue—except to say that its inclusion at the end of today’s post has, somehow, calmed my peace of mind.

To my realistic way of thinking, life be not fair, and there’s naught funny about hurricanes—even so, tis good to acknowledge a change for the better that has enhanced our sense of fair play between genders while managing to tickle my funny bone’s sense of fun, as well.

And on that up note—I’ll hope to see you, soon—

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie

REALITY BITES

 I saw my dermatologist, today.

I asked, how long will my face be apple shaped?

I did not like her reply

It could take up to a year

.I’ll be fat-faced for a year?

Will and I are settled under the comforter in bed, lights still on, when I ask—

Will, does fluid collect during steroid therapy?

No.  The apple shape of your face is based in fat redistribution.  (That’s when my fat-faced comment flew out of my mouth.  Not in the doctor’s office)

Next thing I know, I realize something utterly unrelated to apple-shaped faces—

With Aunt Rose’s passing

The septer has been passed

I am now Matriarch and

Will is patriarch on both sides of our family

How can that be?

Within our own generation

Will and I are the oldest alive

What doth today’s post offer for realization?

Reality cares not for impatience or disbelief

Reality dethrones our fantasies and reigns supreme

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie

FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FLEXIBILITY

 Though I’d loved every minute of this past Saturday’s wonderful sleepover with Ravi (which lasted throughout Sunday’s holiday dinner), my main source of energy was utterly exhausted—that would be my brain.

Sunday night, I’d slept solidly until 11am on Monday, and even now, I’m moving at a snail’s pace, which is fine, being that there’s nowhere other than home that I need to be, today—as is true of most days.

I really hope these meds are targeting cancer cells.  Though I have very little energy, the fact I do not feel sick, compared to my last two, lengthy experiences with chemo, that’s a blessing!❣️

Hopefully, being housebound will change for the better once the intensity of the heat breaks in Oct.

Although I’d wanted to begin our unusual holiday dinner (as I couldn’t cook or bake, we’d planned to go out but then ordered in) with apples and honey (both readily available in the kitchen), I was so tired as to have forgotten to begin our meal with a harvested fruit dipped into something as sweet as a promising brand new year proves to be.  By dinner time on Sunday, my brain and body couldn’t be moved by my spirit to be anywhere but at home, no how!

I’d wished my niece, Jessica, could have been with us, but Sunday would have been her husband Shawn’s birthday, and feeling grief-struck, anew, she opted to remain at home.  

On Sunday (after enjoying Saturday night’s ‘ball’, orchestrated by Ravi (see our princess prepping prettily in the photo below), we enjoyed our holiday dinner in our home, because, by late afternoon, it was still in the upper nineties, and I literally, couldn’t muster the energy to go further than from the living-room couch to the dining room table. (It was Steven who’d pointed that out to me.) As Sunday is a school night, we four had planned to meet Andi and Mike on a restaurant patio (no fans) at 5:30.  We’d have fried to a crisp.

As I’m repeating myself, my brain is signaling that it’s about to close up shop for today.

Thank goodness for logic, flexibility, family and friends, who’d literally taken care of everything on Sunday.  Though the only tradition enjoyed was our gathering, together, which holiday tradition could be more satisfying to each of our hearts than that? 

Having had my sister and Mickey here for ten days meant the world to me.  Especially since I could not fly to the Midwest for my aunt’s funeral.  Aunt Rose, who would have been 100 in December, passed away while Lauren and Mickey were here in support of their daughter, Jessica and Irwin and me.

I feel so blessed to feel loved deeply by those whom I love in kind.

When counting our blessings, Sleepovers rank high on the list—our princess prepping for the ball.

So, Ravi, what time do you expect Prince Charming to arrive?

I didn’t invite Prince Charming; this is a family ball.

What? No Prince Charming?  Who will you dance with?

First you.  Then Papa.

And as that’s exactly what we three did, our family ball was enjoyed by all.

Wherever you call home and whatever holiday you celebrate, please stay healthy and safe while enjoying loved ones, my dear friends

🙋🏻‍♀️☺️Annie

ROSH HASHANAH 2022

 Happy birthday to the world!

I’ve not been up to cooking

I’ve not been up to baking

And so, we six enjoyed

A holiday dinner ‘brought in’

And the reason we enjoyed

Our holiday without

All the traditional trimmings, which

Had been a must until

I found myself unable to

Overcome cancer, is because

We six celebrated together—

Will and I

Steven and Ravi

Andi and Michael

And in addition to

My wishing unrealistically for

A greater sense of

Peace throughout

The world, during

The coming year

I hope it’s not unrealistic for me

To wish to be here with

Will to open our front door to

Welcome beloved family and

Treasured friends into

Our home when

It comes time to

Sing happy birthday to

The world in 2023

Annie

SLEEPING WITH A STRANGER

 “Whatever words we utter should be chosen with care for people will hear them and be influenced by them for good or ill.”

—Gautama Buddha”

Excerpt From The Best of Us byRobyn Carr

Many times, while reflecting back over the first 25 years of our marriage, I’ve heard myself say—Imagine me in one room, sharing my perspective of our marriage with a writer. And imagine Will in separate room, doing the same with another writer.  Then imagine these two writers  meeting for the very first time where they’d read each other’s notes—our names remaining unrevealed.  Once they’ve compared each other’s notes, here’s what they’d each be likely to say—These are two very nice people.  Too bad they’d never met.  They would have liked each other. A lot.  

Needless to say, my comments would have filled a legal pad; Will’s would have composed a single page, at most as he’s a man who’s known to be spare with words.  And in addition to that dissimilarity, it’s not uncommon for people to remember shared experiences differently.

Within most marriages, it’s easy to discern when physical intimacy disconnects; however a conscious awareness concerning the waining of emotional intimacy may be much more difficult for a busy couple to ascertain, suggesting my belief as to why lovers can, one day, look at each other and wonder—who is this stranger with whom I’m sharing my bed ...

Just as with anything worth keeping, tending to the good health of our most valued relationships is vital to the heartfelt longevity of treasured relationships.

Though during youth, a couple (on their best behavior while dating) can feel they fit to a tee, as time goes on, it’s not unusual for one person’s character traits to continue to develop while the other person’s personality, somehow, shrinks up, suggesting why we say a couple has ‘grown’ apart.  I mean, two young caterpillars can be well matched when hatched until one grows through developmental stages of metamorphosis  into a butterfly while the other remains defensively cocooned.  Have you ever seen a butterfly work its way out of its cocoon only to revert to crawling, again?  Me neither.

Annie 

HAVE YOU HEARD THAT THE STURDIEST LIFE RAFTS ARE BUILT OF SELF RESPECTING HUMILITY?

 “Everyone has a life story—in fact, several versions of that story, all of which are true but might differ in detail or emphasis. ”

Excerpt From The Best of Us by Robyn Carr

Each chapter in this series of novels by Robyn Carr begins with a quote that speaks so clearly to my heartfelt belief in lasting love that I have to restrain myself from copying and pasting all of them to my posts.

Once I complete this series of interrelated novels concerning embracing the compassionate expansion of family life, my plan is to reread Yellow Raft in Blue Water—a story, written from three points of view, offering three different perspectives concerning the family life of three generations of Native American women (granddaughter, mother and last of all, the grandmother), whose shared and separate experiences (leading to harsh misjudgments), influence the development of their relationships.  And sadly, only the reader comes to know each woman as a whole. 

Generally, compassionate attitudes must be cultivated as if insults are weeds in need of plucking out by the main root of the cause of resentment if one’s Eden is to be made up of solidly grounded, perennial loved ones whose hearts feel so well tended as to naturally raise their faces toward the sun so as to burst into colorful bloom repeatedly once winter has come and gone, suggesting the mutually supportive resilience of true love through thick and thin—and like cats with nine lives, both partners sense need to forgive each other’s past transgressions so as to strive forward, together, toward thriving through life’s most difficult challenges shared with a partner whose essential kindness learns to grow toward gaining an expansive, more deeply perceptive perspective based in embracing a heartfelt sense of positive focus after shedding a thorny cloak of defensiveness, which had pierced one’s own vulnerabilities, most of all.

Who shall accept (not usurp) the role of leadership in your family with the grace inherent within humility and self respect so as to convincingly consecrate communal need to build a life raft sturdy enough for all to survive each ride through the rapids every time some aspect of life proves so turbulent as to threaten your love for each other with the panicked pointless notion of jumping ship thus leaping ever so blindly into the jaws of death with no sight of the support system longing to hoist you back onto the deck where the strong arms of emotional safety welcome your need to rest your wearied head until your underlying despair, having been correctly identified, named and tamed is no longer a subconscious tbreat empowered to sever your mind’s forever connection to your spirit’s well healed love of life.

Can you see why I yearn to relate the saga of our marriage once my unidentified resistance has been named and tamed?

Annie

Who could ever forget the outpouring of love after the untimely death of Diana …

THE GIFT OF LOVING KINDNESS

 “Kindness in words creates confidence. Kindness in thinking creates profoundness. Kindness in giving creates love.

—LAO TZU”

Excerpt From The Family Gathering by Robyn Carr

Will and I were standing on the third floor outdoor landing of the apartment complex where we’d lived at that time.  We were awaiting the elevator to come up to take us down to our car when an older couple, walking slowly, hand in hand, appeared just as the doors of the elevator opened.  And while stepping to one side on the landing, Will and I motioned to the couple to precede us, which they did, their gentle smiles complimenting our own.

So there we were, one well groomed, white haired couple, holding hands, smiling at another couple, also holding hands (who having been married more than twenty-five years, had  continued to happily return the gift of the elderly couples’ smiles.  In less than two blinks of an eye, our gracious connection felt good  all around  upon reaching the ground level, the doors of the elevator opened, and just before the two couples parted, to make our way to our cars, the old gentleman, still holding his partner’s hand, turned to us and said five simple words, which feeling profound, still ring true to my heart, today:

BE KIND TO EACH OTHER

I remember returning his smile while replying:

WE ARE. (Though that had not always been true as being polite and kind are not necessarily the same.)

The story of how Will and I saved our marriage (from drowning in my tears of despair of ever feeling my husband’s loving kindness) is what I’ve been attempting to post to my blog for years—and one day, by golly, my intuitive powers will guide me toward feeling ready to identify the source of my resistance, freeing all of me to get on with the saga of our lives.

Did you ever read the books Mr. Bridge and Mrs Bridge?   These novels, read one after the other, tell the story of a marriage from both points of view.  Upon reading both versions of this marriage, we learn how little we know about the people we love, and more essentially, how little we know ourselves unless both people search deep inside where unidentified pain awaits to be aired, understood, discussed and healed for real.  There’s sound reason why opposites attract and then split up … it’s so common as to be considered classic.

50th Wedding Anniversary Party planned by our sons

Annie 

LET’S AIM FOR MORE UPS THAN DOWNS, TODAY

 Not long after sunrise, this morning  Will was in his dermatologist’s office, numbed and readied to undergo surgery for the melanoma located between his right eyebrow and his hairline.  As the procedure, itself, took only twenty minutes, he was home by 7:45.

Moh’s surgery for melanoma is different from that of other kinds of skin cancer, which prove less of a threat to a person’s survival.  Though, generally, each step of a Moh’s surgery is known to take place in one day, with melanoma, each layer has to be frozen, overnight.  So a successful Moh’s surgery for melanoma can be conducted over several days in a row.

Thankfully, Will’s not in pain, and now, we await a call from his doctor’s office  saying please return tomorrow for more surgery or hopefully—you’re in the clear.

As to me, I continue to tolerate this first week of oral chemo, well.  Flu-like symptoms and hints of nausea are gone.  The just-in-case bowl at my bedside remains empty.

I’m thankful that Will is home.  As my concern for both of us proves more disconcerting than usual, I’m choosing to remain quiet, this morning, until my mind feels peaceful being that Will’s loving presence cradles me in safety.

We’re looking forward to Lauren and Mickey coming to our house, this afternoon.  Orange peel, which my sister brought from Fannie Mae Candies, and her homemade baked goodies (which she’d packed and they’d dropped off, late last week) await their arrival along with an assortment of chips with which Will stocks our cabinet whenever he knows that he and Mickey will be snacking away while enjoying old cowboy movies on TV.

On that up note, I’m aiming to relax my mind while we await a call from the dermatologist’s assistant.  Let’s hope I feel relieved to tell you that neither of us has need to be anywhere near a doctor’s office, tomorrow.

Annie

LET’S HOPE THIS BEST SCENARIO IS REPETITIVE

 So being that yesterday offered me my first 24 hours of oral chemo, it’s good to know that, thus far, side effects are tolerable.  As the day progressed, I was tired and snoozed, off and on.  My head felt achy, and a mild sense of flu symptoms pervaded my body.  Even a hint of nausea added into the mix was not enough to make me cancel our plans to enjoy a family dinner on yet another restaurant patio.

Then, last night, feeling no lump of emotional resistance causing interference, my meds slid down my throat as smoothly as if my fear of side effects will continue to diminish, day by day, suggesting that with reason for a positively focused attitude to lead the way, I hope to concentrate my hopes on this protocol of oral chemo attacking tumor cells relentlessly without destroying too many of my body’s healthy cells.

As to the good news—to my way of thinking, today’s post is all good news!  And thankfully, the mixing bowl that Will placed at my bedside remains empty!

Annie

HARD TIMES ARE GENTLED WHEN SUFFUSED WITH LOVE

 While speaking with my dear friend Susan, she and I comiserated about—What a week this has been—the first anniversary of Linda’s and Shawn’s deaths have been commemorated, and last night, the loss of Sue’s friend, Shelley’s mother occurred just three weeks before the celebration of her 100 years of life had been planned to take place.

Perhaps those who say age is just a number feel need to deny the reality of the fact that the term ‘old age’ clarifies this final stage in which we and our loved ones are all confronted with the struggle between life and death in one way or another, pretty much, every day.

My cousin, Betty, who has pancreatic cancer (her husband, Allen, has Parkinson’s) has been hospitalized at Mayo with pneumonia, again.  Last week she needed two pints of blood (chemo related).

Sometime soon, we hope to see dear friends, Marilyn and Joel (before his surgery for bladder cancer is scheduled) now that his energy, following months of debilitating chemo, has begun to revive.

Tonight, we look forward to dinner on another restaurant patio with Jessica, Lauren, Mickey and their friends, Madalyn and David (who has Parkinson’s).

On the upside, last night, Steven and Ravi joined our extended family for dinner, and a good time was had by all.  Especially Ravi, as her aunt, cousin and Gramma had each surprised her with a craft to enjoy at the table while the adults talked and talked.  And when my sweet grand daughter, in need of physical activity, invited each of us to take a seat on my walker, her naturally joyful, youthful spirit gave whomsoever was game an imaginative (very tame) roller coaster ride. around our table.

Last night, I had my ‘first taste’ of oral chemo in hopes of prolonging my life. I took compazine as prescribed for possible nausea a half hour before downing four chemo caplets, all of which had to bypass the lump of resistance in my throat.  As Will’s loving smile served as a spoon full of sugar, all of the meds that I had to swallow went down smoothly.

This morning, I awakened feeling relieved to know that the first night of oral chemo at bedtime was behind me.  Then, I laughed aloud upon finding a just-in-case tactic on the part of Will in the shape of a large white mixing bowl, next to my side of the bed, which, thank goodness, had remained empty.   So far so good

To our good fortune, over these many years of wedded life, Will and I managed to glean the wisdom necessary to ride the roller coaster that ends in the tunnel of love as neither he nor I had demonstrated beed to sink the boat, though it’s true that, once, he almost jumped overboard, and once the same was true of me; however  thankfully, our love proved so strong that both of us fot a grip on what it means to grow toward being the best partner each of us can be whenever the going gets rough on either side …. By some stroke of luck, neither of us gave up on our marriage at the same time.

—Annie

ORAL CHEMO, TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT

It’s true that cocooning myself in solitude feels vital to my well being whenever I have to muster the courage to do whatever it takes to prolong my life.  Keeping my spirit buoyed is difficult while answering well-meaning questions posed by my friends, concerning my health.  In short, when courage is in short supply, the only voice I want to hear is the one inside my head, which is sure to shore up my connection to bravery with a positively focused attitude that just won’t quit.

The fact of the matter is this—the mere thought of starting any form of chemo, again, is daunting.  I do not want to talk about it.  Again and again.  As I’ve clarified my reasoning with my friends, most know to call Will (who answers their heartfelt m questions in ‘doctor mode’) and then, they text me.

 The oral chemo that was prescribed has just arrived, today, from Mayo in Rochester.  So, tonight, I hope to arouse the courage to swallow my fear along with the first tablet of chemo as well as the other meds that will, hopefully, minimize side effects—though those additional meds have side effects of their own.  Bottom line, every form of chemo is poison, and our hope is that this new protocol will kill more cancer cells than healthy cells.

Why take oral chemo at night on an empty stomach?  The patient is less likely to experience nausea.  As I am the patient in question, let’s hope for the best …

As previously mentioned, my sister, Lauren, and her husband, Mickey, are in town.  Yesterday was the first anniversary of Shawn’s unexpected death (my niece Jessica’s husband).  We are all having dinner, tonight, on a restaurant patio with hopes that the breezes resulting from fan blades whirling round and round, overhead, will save us from melting as would Olaf in summer.

Though I shy away from phone conversations (except for FaceTime with family) I am eager to spend time with my family, because they are always up to date on whatever is taking place with me, and our love for each other, resonating round the table from heart to heart, helps to maintain my spirit’s mindful resolve to enjoy every minute of our togetherness.

Annie

PROCESSING CONTROL OVER YESTERDAY

 Yesterday, I experienced a mild bout of anxiety (key word being mild), which arose based upon my belief that the ghost of My Fixer had most likely felt need to raise her head🤯as though to admonish me, subconsciously, with—Annie!  A beloved family member is in distress and your Success-driven Solution Seeker is contributing nothing to FIX your niece’s life!

Once that insight brightened the dark (u worthy of love) spot in my mind, my defense system (remembering that The Fixer had retired for sound reason) relaxed.

You see, today is the first anniversary of the traumatic day, last year, when my niece walked into her home after work only to find her beloved husband, Shawn—dead.

On Tuesday of this week, my sister, Lauren and brother-in-law, Mickey, flew here from the Midwest to offer their loving support to Jessica, and the fact that they are together (while we wait several days after they’d been in two international airports to enjoy each other as I expect Mayo in Rochester to overnight my medications as I’m supposed to begin my oral chemo treatments, tomorrow night. And though oral chemo is supposed to tame the seriously debilitating side effects that had seen me hospitalized and in need of blood transfusions—several times—the mere thought of chemo, again, is daunting …so It’s good to know we’ll all be together to enjoy dinner, tomorrow, before I return home to swallow my first anti-nausea pill a half hour before swallowing my fear of side effects along with my first chemo tablet.

My past experiences with chemo literally came close to killing me.  Will spoke with a specialty ohyarmasist at Mayo in Rochester, today, who said we could expect the oral chemo to arrive, overnight.  Though I’ve been feeling a bit anxious as if an episode of PTSD wants to sneak up on  nearly killed meme, being that oral chemo is more than remotely similar to the protocols that had nearly killed me, I’m determined to take my Compazine  (for nausea) a half hour before swallowing my very first chemo tablet at bedtime, tomorrow night—and hope for the best …remotely similar

Annie

Please remember, In not taking chemo in hopes of saving my life.  I’m hoping this round of chemo will  prolong my life by shrinking the tumor in my neck and killing cancer cells traveling through my blood …

RECONNECTIVITY

 “… You have to work on who you are from the inside out.”  Excerpt From What We Find by Robyn Carr.

Once I learned that my subconscious harbored mental blocks of which my conscious mind was unaware, I realized that my lost sense of wholeness has been offered one opportunity after another to secure the courage necessary to free my voice to wholly and calmly express my opinions, beliefs and fears with the self confident attitude that arrests the attentiveness of listeners whose insult-ridden innuendos, thrust at my vulnerabilities over years past, were no longer empowered to dismiss my unmet needs as having been inconsequential as had been the case before my wholehearted participation in EMDR therapy had empowered me to reclaim the portion of my voice, which, having been silenced by sudden attacks of PTSD, which had boggled my mind beginning when I’d felt unloved and emotionally abandoned by my family at the highly vulnerable age of three.

As I was not yet three when my extended family’s sense of security had been struck down and shattered by two tragic deaths in a matter of weeks—neither of which had been expected—my processor had not yet developed the ability to express my overwhelmed sense of terror via discussion.  And having been terrified (as had been true of my extended family), I, having felt enotionally abandoned and undeserving of love, did not develop the ability to speak up for myself with the clarity of self respect intact until those traumatic experiences, locked away (protectively) within my subconscious, began to develop the readiness to filter bite-size details into the conscious portion of my mind, during therapy sessions, which had offered my adult processor a safe environment in which to spotlight insights concerning the unusual aspects of my personality development.  You see, though each of those bite sized portions of trauma had proved to be much too confounding for my three year old processor to comprehend, my adult processor understood and absorbed the fact that I’d felt unloved during the months that everyone in my extended family had been experiebing such shocking depths of grief that nothing more than my physical needs had been met.  And tempers were short.

As happens with those of us who have no clue that we experience episodes of PTSD, each time anything feels remotely similar to details of my blocked memories, the reactivity of my adult processor had gagged and choked, disconnecting my think tank from the logical portion of my brain, which, in turn, lost its capacity to understand and respond calmly to whatever has iactually taken place in real time.

In short, my processor would become short wired, releasing the same terror struck emotional reaction that I’d had R three without offering me a reason for what seemed like a highly dramatic over reaction..

Once I’d come to recognize and maintain control over those moments when POST TRAUMATIC STRESS DISORDER is attempting to disconnect my intelligence (freeing my survival instincts to flee, fight or freeze), my self image, having changed for the better—one therapy session at a time—remains able to make such intelligent use of my self respecting voice as to command the peaceable respect of my listeners whether they agreed with my personal perspective or not. 

As of this moment, I’ve no clue as to why the intuitive portion of my brain felt need to summarize personal benefits reaped from my wholehearted participation in EMDR therapy, which is geared toward healing the emotionally debilitating effects of PTSD.  However, with time, I have no doubt that a string of insights will brighten my understanding as to why this post (which wrote itself, today) will be mine.  And once that mental breakthrough takes place, naturally, I’ll feel eager to share that which I’ve learned (most likely about myself) with you.

Annie

AN APPRECIATION OF SOLITUDE

 While the sizzle of

A lengthy desert summer

Sees me housebound, again

(And because of my limitations

The same is true for Will)

Life continues to move around us—

Our friends are throwing parties

Birthday celebrations

Celebrations of life

Indoor celebrations to which

We are lovingly invited but

Cannot attend because

I cannot catch any

Respiratory illness

Much less COVID, which is

Still going around

And so—

In order not to feel like

A grounded, rebellious teen

Innocent of wrongdoing

I must consciously decide that

Buoying my spirit is as much

An adult’s daily responsibility as is

Brushing all of the teeth that

I hope to keep in a state of good health

“Be able to be alone. Lose not the advantage of solitude.”

—Sir Thomas Browne

Excerpt From What We Find by Robyn Carr

With a conscious sense of

Graciousness, I can truly say

Thank goodness for

My love of reading

And my passion

For writing so that

Rather than

Losing myself

In loneliness

I find myself detailing

Sound reason as to why

Puzzling pieces of

Emotional complexity that had

Layered up, subconsciously, during

Childhood’s most traumatic

Confounding experiences

Can be understood and

Simplified as I work toward

Completing my sense of

Wholeness, which had been

Lost when I was three

Suggesting that having

Lost my self confident self

An unidentified insecure sense of

Loneliness had been mine, and

For a very long times

I had no clue that

Feeling lonely and

Finding myself alone

Are not

One and the same

As a matter of fact

More often than not

I feel fortunate to

Spend time in solitude

Working intuitively to

Free whatever whatever mental block

May still may be repressed

In the depths of my mind, in hopes of

Freeing myself of fears that

My defense system had

Thought best to block from

The conscious portion of

My mind (behind a wall of denial)

Separating my conscious awareness from 

The subconscious portion of

My brain, suggesting that

Our brains are structured in

Such a confounding way as to

Fool us into believing

We know ourselves in depth when

Deeper truth maintains that

Our greatest fear of all

(Think rejection) remains a mystery until

We muster the courage and humility to

Seek the help that is needed to

Dismantle the layers of these walls that

Denial persistently insists do not exist

Inside your head and mine, because

Other than a darkly shadowed inclination

A subconscious fear, having been anesthetized

During our youth, cannot be felt

If asked why I find writing in solitude so

intriguing, fascinating, illuminating and

Relaxing, my answer would

Hihlight this fact—

Writing triggers my conscious mind to

Relax, freeing my power of intuition to

Penetrate my defensive wall of denial

And once intuition takes charge of my brain

Deeper truths (concerning the inner me)

Which have been locked away from

My conscious awareness are

Drawn toward being published in posts

Almost every day in hopes of

Releasing an entertaining anecdote

Spotlighting solution-seeking skills

Or better yet, I delight in watching

A string of insights

March across my screen (one word following another)

Brightening my conscious awareness of

A personal fear, belief, or feeling that had thoroughly thrashed my self image so thoroughly during childhood that having worked to recover forgotten details, this hot spot has finally lost its sting now that this unidentified fear has finally been named, suggesting a childish reaction can develop into an emotionally intelligent (matured) personal strength, which I have been newly empowered to identify as—my own.

All in all, I crave time spent

With Solitude as

My intuitive companion which

Proves to be

Personally instructive or calming

Or so entertaining as to see me

Welcoming time spent alone with

This re-balanced, composite view of

Myself, wholeheartedly, most every day

As for now—

I’m about to find out if the indoor party e-vite we received from a dear friend, today, names a restaurant with a patio, where Will and I can enjoy a cocktail with friends who, knowing that we can’t enjoy indoor festivities with large groups, will happily visit with us for a moment or two.  And oh how happily Will and I will greet friends on a patio, who’ve been lovingly supportive, though walled off from us, physically, over the past three years.  

Thankfully, though our days remain hothothot—evenings are cooling down enough to dine on restaurant patios, under fans, with family and friends.  And soon, we’ll find ourselves free to walk outside, again with friends.

As to naming my spirit’s top three person strengths, I’d say: an intuitive sense of courage/an insightful sense of humility/and a cornucopia of patience concerning instigating change for the better, that never quits …

🙋🏻‍♀️Annie

PS I didn’t have to call my friend, who’s hosting the party mentioned above, because—

She just called me—

And that makes me ask what are your thoughts about 

ESP?

SLEEPOVERS RE-STRENGTHEN OUR SPIRITS’ SMILES

 Well—It’s been quite a week.  In fact, it’s taken a few days for me to process everything before readiness to pen the contents of today’s post was mine.

Will’s MRI report supports my orthopaedic surgeon husband’s self-diagnosis of having suffered a compression fracture in his lower back, resultant of his golf swing, seven weeks ago on the west coast.  Will’s surgical removal of a slow growing melanoma near his eyebrow has been scheduled for next week, and as the new (small) tumor in my neck is malignant, I’ll start chemo in about two weeks with the probability of surgery in December.  (Why Chemo before surgery?  In hopes of shriveling this tumor’s cancer cells as well as those traveling throughout my body via my blood stream.)

While awaiting the results of my PET scan and Chest CT, I’d not expected to receive good news.  Even so, the daunting reality of facing chemo, again, followed by yet another surgery, served to deflate my strength of spirit—temporarily. 

Later this afternoon( after football occupies my mind), I plan to enjoy a large glass of gwertzereimer (sp?) in hopes of calming myself before enjoying a dinner of lemon/pepper wings and fried zucchini.

We received the unsettling nature of my report, last Friday, just before Will picked up Ravi from school, so we three could enjoy a sleep over—in case I feel too sick to have our granddaughter stay the night once chemo takes hold of me.  Though ingesting this powerful medication orally may be less potent than the combination of drugs prescribed for intravenous absorption, chemo is still chemo, suggesting that we have no clue as to what sideeffects I may experience, personally.

As a special treat during our sleepover with Ravi, Dr. Papa (Ravi’s pet name for her grandfather) drove us to the hair salon, where Ravi enjoys discussing hairstyles with Tina (after the other stylists have left for the day).

When I’d asked, during breakfast on Saturday morning  which part of our sleepover Ravi enjoyed the most, our kind-hearted granddaughter replied—I enjoyed being with you and Papa, because we’d not had a sleepover in so long that I thought we might never have one, again.  And as we smiled at each other—tears, expressing suppressed emotion, filled my eyes …

Annie

Our last sleepover had been three years ago …

A DAY OF CELEBRATION

Today is the anniversary of my mother’s birthday.

She danced at her one hundredth birthday party.

Today she would have been 109.

Happy birthday, Mom

I miss you, every day

Sending you and Dad more love than words can say,

❤️Annie

AWAITING RESULTS AGAIN

 Will’s morning began in the office of his dermatologist as they discussed his upcoming surgical procedure to extract the melanoma found between his right ear and eyebrow.  Next up was my husband’s MRI, scheduled in hopes of identifying the persistent cause of his low back pain.

As for me, I await biopsy results concerning the mass found in my neck. 

Erma Bombeck, one of my all time favorite humorists, wasn’t kidding when she wrote—old age is not for sissies.  Sadly, Erma never experienced old age for herself.

I’d idolized Erma’s mindful capacity for magically transforming the humdrums of every day life into quick witted moments of mirth, because we laugh at the truth.

In record time, Erma's column was heralded within more than 500 newspapers throughout the nation, making her an icon of modern homespun humor, and at the height of her popularity, with 900 newspapers syndicating her column, At Wit’s End, her audience numbered more than 30 million people, whose day was eased, having enjoying a good chuckle.

Annie

Wikipedia

Erma Louise Bombeck (néeFiste; February 21, 1927 – April 22, 1996) was an American humorist who achieved great popularity for her newspaper humor column describing suburban home life, syndicated from 1965 to 1996. She also published 15 books, most of which became bestsellers.

APRÉS ULTRASOUND BIOPSY IT’S MARGARITA TIME

Today has offered up another source of contentment based in a sense of personal accomplishment.

The comforter I’d ordered (on sale from $300 down to $79), including two king shams, arrived and is currently adorning our bed with red, white and blue striped simplicity—and the fact that its linear pattern embraces a touch of beige suggests that our silk pillow cases (hinting toward gold) need not be replaced.  I also have several throw pillows, which for years, have had no real home to speak of, and as they look smashing atop our new comforter, they are nomads, no more.

Gosh!  I haven’t cared about any of this ‘stuff’ in more than two years.  David commented that he’s happy to see me take an interest in things that had not sparked my mind to busy itself with anything other than reading and writing ever since my first disastrous dosage of chemo had threatened my life as much as has cancer.

As work calls David back to LA, our son left for the west coast, today.

And as I reminisce over our five week stay in paradise, where we’d inhaled sea-salted air, every day while enjoying our loved ones, it’s obvious as to why our daily engagement with human interaction lit a fire under my spirit, re-igniting my desire to embrace life beyond my bedroom as fully as is possible when one is unwell.

With that said, I hope the sun assigns a sunbeam to direct a bright sense of warmth throughout the rest of your day  (My defense system offers my imagination clearance to wax poetic whenever a serious medical test is on the horizon.)

As it’s time for Will to drive me to Mayo for an ultrasound-guided biopsy, let’s crank up the gear shifts on our positively focused attitudes and hope for the best, because each time a highly trained medical team extracts a specimen from within the human body, no one knows what may or may not be found until test results have returned from the lab.

Those of you who think to know me well may recall my belief in having a variety of win-win plans up my sleeve, and no matter today’s biopsy result—I plan to remain centered.

Annie

HEALTH UPDATE SEPT. 2022

 Here is the health update that  was sent to family and friends once I’d recovered my equilibrium after last week’s test results had been fully absorbed:

Dear family and friends,

As I’ve not sent out a health update for quite a while, I hope to place a positive spin on ‘the not-so-good-news‘ that Will and I received, last week.

First off, as Will received a diagnosis that no one wants to hear, his dermatologist reassured him of the fact that the melanoma, located between his right eyebrow and ear, is shallow and slow to grow.  His surgery is scheduled for Sept. 19th.

As for me, last week’s PET scan revealed a small mass in my neck, and thus has an ultrasound guided biopsy been scheduled for Wed., Sept 7th.

Being that my oncologist and thoracic surgeon believe this mass is another malignant tumor, here is the tentative plan of action that has been laid out:  On Wednesday (tomorrow), a biopsy guided by ultrasound is scheduled.  If the mass is malignant then I’ll start oral chemo with the expectation of scheduling surgery close to the end of December—just in time to bid the old year adieu and celebrate a brand new year in which to enjoy precious time with family and friends whom Will and I love beyond measure—inclusive, of course, of you.

Chemo will precede surgery in hopes of shrinking this mass while attacking cancer cells traveling through my blood stream before these unwelcome intruders can develop into additional tumors.

As to the strength of my spirit, upon awakening, together, every morning, Will and I smile at each other, and my husband says—I love you, my dolly—to which I reply—I love you, my sweetheart, and as we both continue to feel grateful to be so lovingly supported by beloved family, treasured friends and our medical team, that’s how each new day begins.

As to Will’s strength of spirit, when asked how he’s doing, my husband replies—If Annie’s doing well, so am I.

And pretty much, daily, both of us remind ourselves to focus our minds on living one day at a time …

With hopes that all of you and your loved ones are well, Will and I are hugging each of your hearts close to our own,
💖Annie

PS ‘Dolly’ is the endearment that my father had lovingly called me.  Upon my father’s death, Will called me Dolly, and as our eyes met, my husband, seeing my smile appear while tears cascaded down my cheeks, adopted my father’s pet name for me as his own.  And every time Will calls me ‘Dolly’, my spirit, feeling twice blessed with love, smiles as naturally as if my husband and I and my parents have enjoyed a group hug …

WHY CELEBRATE LABOR DAY?

As additional insight-driven thoughts, offering my mind reason to relax within a positively focused attitude, have expanded yesterday’s post, I decided to delete the original post in favor of reprinting my expansive musings, found below.  So without further ado, here we go:

Have you ever wondered why we celebrate Labor Day?

 Quoted from DOC—the U.S. Department of Labor:

“Observed the first Monday in September, Labor Day is an annual celebration of the social and economic achievements of American workers. The holiday is rooted in the late nineteenth century, when labor activists pushed for a federal holiday to recognize the many contributions workers have made to America's strength, prosperity, and well-being.”

So thank you to all of the workers who have striven to enhance America’s “strength, prosperity, and well-being.”

And to those of you who’d wondered why we celebrate this holiday, every year—you’re welcome,

Though we’re meant to relax over Labor Day weekend, my son, David, and I worked together to complete the feat of cleaning out my closet before we began to unpack my duds, which, over these last two weeks, had remained neatly folded in the same duffle that David had helped to pack up the day before Will and I drove home from the coast.  I can’t tell you how relieved and relaxed my mind feels, today, knowing that laboring at this task is behind me.

I get along with a little help from my friends—and family.  Truthfully, I couldn’t accomplish most of whatever needs doing without A LOT of heartfelt help from my loved ones.

As you may remember, Will had injured his back soon after our arrival on the coast, so the morning after David had packed us up in readiness for our drive home, Barry arrived at the condo to help his brother load our car while Marie and our grandsons set out everyone’s favorite blend of Starbucks coffee, hot chocolate and muffins for each one’s personal enjoyment.  Then upon our arrival at home, Steven drove over to unpack our car.  And having reminded myself of our family’s good fortune concerning our having worked together to employ a fully packed ‘giving-and-receiving-love department’, which offers my personal sense of familial contentment sound reason to overflow so steadily from deep within my heart as to readily fill my mind with relaxation, renewed  … 

💖Annie

BASTED, TOASTED AND ROASTED

 During our five weeks of personal contentment in which worries concerning my health had been left at home, we’d also left behind the desert’s ‘egg-frying-on-sidewalk heat’.

Upon returning to our home, eknowing that we’ll have to endure these last weeks of sweltering summer, indoors, Andi and Michael convinced us to enjoy dinner with them on a restaurant patio that they’d described as having been well cooled.  As no one abhors extreme heat more than is true of Andi, we replied—sure.

Once we four had been seated for a while—t’was hard to tell which had been roasted more thoroughly—the medley of skewered veggies ordered by four best friends or the four besties, themselves, each of whom had clearly felt toasted after having been basted in sweat …

Try to deny the reality of our sizzling summers as we may, the only way to enjoy time spent with friends, outside, is to invite our guests to partake in a waterlogged dinner served in our spa until such time as the heat breaks (or until so many people are vaccinated that our fear of catching COVID 19 is vanquished as happened with small pox, polio, chicken pox, measles and mumps), and so, while awaiting that blessed Fall day (which classically dawns toward the end of September), when we can comfortably place our fear of roasting, while dining on restaurant patios, aside (because we’ll surely feel need to abstain from dining inside our favorite restaurants until COVID numbers have greatly declined.)

Once again—being inoculated against catching COVID is not a Democratic political platform—COVID is a contagious illness that we’ll fail to irradiate as long as Republican leadership refuses to advise their constituents to be immunized (though they, themselves, have been vaccinated as is true of trump.)

Unfortunately, the dumbing down of today’s American youth is a reflection of the dumbing down as seen in too many of our nation’s lying leadership—and that my friends, is truly a crying shame …

Annie