tunnel vision

Been looking at this tunnel for months now.  This year hasn't been the best, but I really can't gripe much, because it could be worse.  Yes, things can get worse.  I've had those years too.  It's been a while since I felt like pieces of the sky were falling, and hitting my head, but this year has taught me that it is time to bring out the safety helmet before the next piece of sky whacks me.

I don't mean to sound negative, and I am sure that there are plenty of oh woe is me blogs out there, and I am really not that type of person.  Mostly I've been numb and just not dwelling on this cancer in my breast.  I am good at avoiding stuff. When things get tough, I have a knack for just not thinking about a problem if there is nothing I can do about it. I have to say, this problem has given me pause though. Time to think about where my life is, where I want it to go, and things I haven't done that I want to do.  We all think about things that way sometimes, right?  I mean, I know I can't be the only person who has felt these things.

I feel like I have kind of skipped all those stages of grief that Elisabeth Kubler-Ross wrote about, and just went straight to numb. As numb as the armpit and shoulder where the lymph node was removed.  I'm glad for small things, like finding out this cancer has a 94%ish cure rate, and that the lymph node was negative.  It almost makes me feel ashamed for feeling this numbness.  But it is there, and I can't make it go away, so I am focusing now on the light at the end of the tunnel.  And allowing myself to be numb for the moment.  Thinking as I watch the clock tick away and the hours go by until this next surgery later this morning to remove the cancer cells that were missed, and that the tissue biopsy revealed.

So I look at Goliath and wonder what it will be like to have a breast with a crater in it, dread being put to sleep and the loss of control over my own body, dread the discomfort and pain afterward because I am so effing ready to be well again, and not this recovering surgery patient.  I want my effing life back, things back to normal.  I have SHIT TO DO.

So, hurry up sunrise, and let's get this show on the road.  I have a life to live.

the light at the end of the tunnel

 My parting shot is a favorite Pink song, that exactly fits my mood right now...(alert, explicit language)...

Is there anything in life BETTER than rock and roll????  

 ...life is good, dammit, so raise your glass!!... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

color, day 21 nablopomo

COLOR!

Color, color everywhere I looked today. Some shots were contrived, some spur of the moment.

nablopomo day 8: focus

keep your eyes on the prize, cat.

what lies ahead

this was my reality yesterday...and so after an hour of restless sleep before my daughter Jen's surgery and biopsy of a lesion on her left vocal chord, I found myself turning to my art as a way of coping....

surgery went fine...and now we wait...

...life truly is good. ~cath

find me @jonesbabie on Twitter

book review~ To the End and Back: Lessons Learned Through Surviving Cancer

I've started this post several times.  A lot has been swirling through my head since I read Aaron Offord's book "To the End and Back: Lessons Learned Through Surviving Cancer".  It was an amazing read for me, and I was at a loss how to describe it to the people who read my blog.  I had promised Aaron I would offer a post and link back to him to allow people to connect, read, and perhaps leave a donation.

Aaron wanted to share his experiences and "aha" moments, in the hope that he could help people to see that there is life after cancer, it isn't hopeless, and that you can take any tribulation in life and turn it into a way to grow and learn, and savor life fully.

I guess that is what meant the most to me.  I had followed Aaron's blog and read about his journey through treatment for acute leukemia.  We had first connected through our mutual love of photography, and I watched his talent and ability take flight online, bit by bit.

Then I read his book, and it all became clear to me.  What life meant to Aaron, and how he turned what could have been seen as a negative experience into something very positive.  One of the first sentences that jumped out at me, a theme that was woven throughout Aaron's writing, was a quote from a book Aaron had read by Viktor Frankl, a neurologist and physicist who survived the Holocaust:

The meaning of life is found in every moment of living.

I saw such a simple truth in this sentence, such a clarity.  As I read on I found many themes and ideas Aaron had discovered that resonated with me in my own life.  Along the way, as I finished reading, a coworker in my organization died suddenly of acute leukemia.  This brought a sudden clarity to my mind, and I went back and reread Aaron's book with new eyes.

I don't want to use a lot of quotes from the book in here, because Aaron has taken his lessons and beliefs and presented them so concisely, so to the point, that I want to encourage you all to download and read it.  I don't do many book reviews, and I don't promote something I don't believe in.

I believe this book will bring you some "aha" moments as it did for me.  Download it.  Read it.  Be prepared to be inspired, as I was.

Then leave a comment on Aaron's blog, and a donation if you are so inclined.  All proceeds from the book will go to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.

Click on this link to download To the End and Back: Lessons Learned Through Surviving Cancer

...life is inspirational!~cath
find me @jonesbabie on Twitter