the unbearable lightness of being bald

I wrote this post on July 15, 2015:

Life is full of decisions. Every day we have to decide things. What to wear, what to eat, when to get up, when to go to bed, what to read, what to watch on television, what to read and comment on, browse etc on the internet. When I take a day off from life, I usually try to limit my decisions to no brainers, or things that are easy to choose and use minimal brain cell energy. Do you have days like that?

Most of the time my brain is whirring away with the next idea, the next thing I want to do, the next thing to learn or see or listen to.

Until May. I don't remember the specific day, but I remember what I was doing. I was having lunch with Wretch when I got the call that changed my life as I had known it. The call that made the suspicion a reality. From that point on, my thinking changed. I had trouble concentrating and finding words. I still do at times. That is probably because I have turned off part of my brain lately.

I want to be left alone. There are many times I don't want to talk to anyone, or listen to what they have to say. I have absolutely no ideas running around inside my head part of the time. Just this......void. A sort of nothing. There are times I go numb. I can't feel any emotion, I can't connect to any thoughts. I just...am.

This doesn't last all the time, thank goodness. Because if it did I would begin to resemble a vegetable. Broccoli most likely. Not for any particular reason, but because I like broccoli. It can lay down, or stand up, and even though it has a big head, it doesn't do much thinking. It describes how I feel a lot of the time lately. Standing, big head, and no thoughts going on inside that big head.

It has been a long 2 months since that fateful phone call. Sometimes it feels like a dream that I will wake up from.

I'm still waiting to wake up.

December 30, 2015:

Today my outlook and thoughts are a bit different. This year has definitely been a challenge on a personal level. I hit some low points I never thought I would have to face in my life. I'm not one to natter on about stuff, but I would like to share some things that happened to me, with the hope that if anyone else faces breast cancer, they will have some knowledge of things happening to them.

In May, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Not all breast cancers are equal, and because of a yearly mammogram, I was lucky. My cancer was very early stage, and very small. And very treatable. I felt at that point that I had won the cancer lottery.

At the end of May I had surgery, and then I had to have surgery again in June. It seems pretty common that when a woman has a lumpectomy, there is often a positive margin that requires a second surgery, or resection. I had some pain, but the main thing was that I was limited in what I could do, and that was frustrating for me.

In July, I saw my oncologists. In my brain, there would be one oncologist, but that isn't the way things work. One doctor handled the medication I would be taking, and the other the radiation I would be receiving. This is standard treatment for very early stage breast cancer. The staff at the cancer center were wonderful, and I felt an atmosphere of support, and a camaraderie among the patients, because we were all in the same boat, rowing with identical oars.

At the end of August, two things happened that would make September and October the most difficult and challenging months of my life. I started taking Femara, a medication that blocks your body from producing any estrogen, a pretty vital hormone for women. My cancer was estrogen positive, which increased the risk of it returning. I was taking estrogen at the time, and was told I needed to stop taking it. So the day I swallowed the first Femara, I stopped the Estratest. Cold turkey, no tapering, just did it. I also started taking radiation treatments 5 days a week for 6 weeks on August 24th.

By the third week in September I was feeling hopeless. No energy, fatigue so extreme that many days I had to leave work early so that I would be able to walk up the steps and in the front door of my home. I've never felt anything so overwhelming in my life. I finally told the nurses at the center how I was feeling, and that if the next 5 years of taking this medication were going to make me feel like this, I didn't want to go on.

I'll never forget what they said to me. "Oh you are depressed! You need to go to see your primary care doctor, and ask for something for anxiety, depression, and something to help you sleep." I was dumbfounded. First, because I hadn't been able to figure out what was going on with me (I am a nurse after all and have cared for people with depression for many years). At the same time I was SO glad they had put a name to my misery. I was so depressed, I couldn't even cry, or laugh, or feel any emotion. Take my word for it, that is a pretty miserable place to be. I hated the thought of more medications, but at that point was willing to try anything.

The second thing that struck my mind when the nurses chirped out that information to me, was that I was not alone.  Even deep in this dark place, I felt less alone, less isolated. The next week I saw my family doctor, and we opted for Clonidine for sleep. Even though it is for blood pressure, taken at night it can help with sleep. He also prescribed a low dose of Celexa, an antidepressant that also helps with anxiety. Another recommendation was Black Cohosh, a natural supplement that helps with hot flashes, because at that point I was also going through menopause for the second time in my life.

Three days later, Stevie Wonder said "you're feeling better aren't you?"

And I was. I could already feel the effects of the medications. When the medication is right, it makes a big difference in the quality of your life. So depression was zapped, but I was having other side effects from the Femara. Bone and joint pain from hell. Some days it was so bad I could barely make it through the day. I lived on ibuprofen just so I could function. I even took it at night, because just turning over in my sleep could cause me to wake up from the pain. I have a high pain tolerance, and this medication found that spot and tap danced on it with spike heels.

At the same time, my right breast, which I thought was going to escape burns from radiation, decided to let me know that my luck had run out. My boob began to resemble a piece of fried bacon. And let me tell you, the smell of radiated flesh dying and sloughing off in sheets is not something you want to have going on with a part of your body that is located right under your nose. And of course, with burns there is pain too. I guess you could say that the bone pain distracted me from the burn pain a bit. Thank god for ibuprofen.

image from Wikia.com

Then my vanity took a hit. My hair had begun to fall out. Just a bit at first. By October it was coming out in handfuls. This hurt my pride, because I had spent almost a year letting my hair grow out, something I hadn't done since I was 10. There was my effort, going down the drain. I was a bit miffed because my family doctor and oncologist both said they thought it was temporary. The Onc thought it was male pattern baldness from loss of estrogen (GREAT), but I realized two things. One, there was NO male pattern baldness in my family (even my sick 84 yr old mother had a headful of hair), and two, male pattern baldness affects the top of your head, and my hair was coming out all over.

The good thing about the hair loss...it took my mind off the pain, and gave me a chance to try out some really expensive shampoos and hair treatments that I would never have had a chance to try. I decided I was going to keep this hair I had grown until I looked like Gollum in Lord of the Rings. I also had a follow up appointment in December with the oncologist, who decided to stop the Femara, and start another medication. As of today, the bone pain has stopped.

And...my eyelashes and eyebrows are starting to fall out. I have to laugh though. I made it through the darkest time of my life, and came out smiling.

...every day is a new adventure...  ~cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

on reality and the randomness of thinking

Life has been crazy busy lately. I have a (fairly) new position at work that fires my enthusiasm in a new way. Daily radiation for breast cancer treatment has become part of my life like my first cup of hot tea every morning. Life isn't static, and in a few days mine will take a turn in the road. Everything that has happened has made me a bit more introspective, and when I haven't been working, which takes most of my energy these days, I am resting (fatigue is a side effect of radiation I discovered). With all this resting comes a lot of time to think, and I have lacked the will and/or the energy to write any posts sharing my thoughts.

One thing that has always remained constant in my life is art. I have always turned to it when I am stressed, life is difficult, or when I have a lot of thoughts and emotions running around inside me. It is my therapy, my solace, my friend. A safe place to go to when I just don't want to have human contact.

Recently during one of those times, I turned to digital art. My daughter Jen had recommended an app to me a long time ago, I had tinkered with it once or twice, but never devoted any time to it. One day, when I was feeling really down, I picked up my iPad to read and instead opened the drawing app. I started doodling, and then drawing, and before I knew it I was totally immersed in it. Paper by 53 is easy to use and doesn't require a large learning curve, right up my alley at this time of my life. I started doing some drawing in the mornings, and in the evenings if I wasn't too tired. It helped to level and recenter me, just as art has always done.

One aspect of Paper is a community you can post your artwork to, that can be seen by other artists, or "remixed" by them and reposted. Mix is a way to share ideas, doesn't require a lot of communication, and lets you see some inspiring art and ideas. I also noticed that there are a large number of children on Mix, and I see them commenting on works of art, wishing they had better art skills, and asking for tips which most artists are glad to give. It is a unique community.

As I watched these children (from grade school, middle school, and high school in age), it bothered me to see them beat themselves up about their skills, and I thought about what art is for me. I have seen many skilled artists in the social media sites I participate in, many of them lucky enough to be working artists, some who do it on the side just because they love it, like I do. I remember as a child wishing I could draw like a girl in my class, or a boy. I can close my eyes and see their art and their faces, forever children in my mind. I don't know if they followed this into something professional, or if they even continued to pursue their talent. I do remember my angst, even though I realize now I had fairly good skills for my age. Always wanting to be like someone else, it created negative feelings and self doubt in me at times.

I look back now, and realize that at some point in my life, I stopped wanting to be like other artists. I use my art now to bring me joy, and as a way to express my thoughts and feelings. (My photography is much the same, an extension of my inner thoughts and feelings..) With that release from envy, or longing if you will to be like someone else, came freedom and pure joy at what I do now. I wish I could convey this to those children, and tell them what they feel is normal, not to give up, to keep practicing their art, and learning. Since space is limited I found the best way to do that was a quote from one of my favorite artists, one who spent most of her life living in her artist-husband's shadow, even though she was a gifted artist in her own right.

When I was reading the posts today for Friday Reflections, I saw a prompt that induced me to finally...FINALLY... open my computer to write again.

The prompt is:
Reflect on a quote that has touched you this week, or that has made you laugh.

The quote that touched me, that resonated with me this week is by Frida Kahlo:
"I never paint dreams or nightmares. I paint my own reality."

Be true to yourself. Paint your own reality, with whatever you choose to express yourself.

...never stop reaching...life is good... ~cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

the starry night

One night last week, I found myself lying on a lounge chair under the stars, with my youngest daughter Deborah lying beside me on another lounger.

It had been a difficult week for both of us. I had been to the radiation oncologist and was one step closer to getting my boob barbecued.

Deborah's week had been equally difficult.  Life has been sending her curves for a while now, and every time she gets a foothold and feels as though she is beginning to move forward, something knocks her down.  This time the something was enough to make her feel hopeless for a bit, before she righted herself and decided to plunge forward.

So there we were, watching the Perseid meteor shower on the peak night in August when they were shooting across the sky leaving long trails, talking about a lot of different things.  It brought to mind a favorite song about one of my favorite artists and that song ran through my mind while we lay there star gazing.

The talking included a couple glasses of wine, so that may explain why our conversation ambled along about these subjects:

Nocturnal cow mooing.  We thought it was a romantic time of the month for cows, and the meteors were putting them in the mood.  One cow in particular bawled her way across the pasture from where we sat, mooing loudly from one end to the other.  Occasionally another couple of cows would chime in.

Tiger chuffing.  Not to be mistaken with roaring.  Deb said it was a sign of her lack of a social life, that the last thing she searched for on her iPhone was tiger chuffing.  It was replaced by cow mooing, which is when we discovered it wasn't cow sex going on, but one cow trying to find the herd.  Which totally burst our romantic notion about cows.  I was irritated at this point by the cow screaming across the road, so I.....

Stirred the cows up with my iPhone flashlight.  I know, totally mean of me, and I paid for it by being flogged by a million bugs rushing at the light and up my nose, in my eyes and ears, and...well you get the idea.  Deb also was eaten alive while Googling cow mooing.

Our California road trip.  Possibly the best road trip of our lives.  While we reminisced about the trip, we also talked about our own insignificance in the scheme of the universe, watching the sky light up with orange meteors shooting past in the sky overhead.  Then things deteriorated again when we decided to move our lounge chairs to face the house because it seemed like the meteors were coming from there.  That was when....

I peed my pants trying to get up off the lounge chair to move it.  I hadn't been to yoga in a couple months due to recouping from surgeries, so my abdominal muscles were jello, and so were my legs, which led to the above.  After we got settled down, we realized that the meteors were actually more visible in the direction we had just turned from, and somehow I made it up off the lounge, then Deb said something, I laughed, and peed my pants again. Just a little.   At that point, we started to laugh and talked about....

Estrogen levels and how they affect homicidal behavior.  I had just been taken off all estrogen, given a tablet to block my body absorbing any estrogen it might try to produce on its own, and told that the pill would probably give me hot flashes.  By a doctor who was smiling so kindly at me when he said it that I thought seriously about slapping him.  Just for a second.  Which means this ain't gonna be good, if I felt like that while I had estrogen still floating around.  About this time a leaf blew off the tree and hit Deb's shoulder, and she screamed loudly.  Which made a cow start mooing again and made us....

Laugh at shadows, more bugs, and leaves.  About that time we were sipping the last of our wine, and didn't notice Steve slip out and say something in his booming deep voice.  I jumped and screamed and so did Deb.  I thought a cow had gotten loose, circled around behind us and was about to charge us.  I invited Steve to join us, but he said no, he was going back to bed, which caused me to wonder out loud why the *#&$ he had bothered coming out at all.  Except I knew why.

He wanted to make me scream and pee my pants.

Because he is evil that way.

Thanks Deb, my Wretched Daughter, for being there to watch stars with me.  Let's do it again kiddo. Same time, next year.

(This post is in response to two prompts on Friday Reflections, how I deal with anxiety, and reflecting on my favorite song.  Somehow, this week, they were both tied together.) 

...life is good. ~cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

house of the rising sun

In response to Friday Reflections bonus prompt: What did I enjoy this week? Check out Reflections from a Redhead, and reflections from me for more about this wonderful blog link up...

This much I know is true...

When I can't get my writing brain going, photos or art speak for me:

Seeing the rising sun immediately brought music to mind:

Sometimes, words aren't necessary.

...life is good. -cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

jump back

dahlia, watercolor, pen & ink

I think I had something really good to say.  But, like so many thoughts lately, it left.  When your brain gets too busy, it tends to do that you know.  Lose things.  Thoughts.  Gone.  As someone once said: if you can't remember it, then it wasn't important.

I have a renewed interest in art lately and spend much of my time there, drawing, painting, and photographing things that catch my eye or mind.  It takes less brain effort for me to do that.  It is my comfort zone.  Where I have spent most of my life.  Especially a good spot when thinking takes too much effort.

But I am jumping back in.  Life has a way of cycling like that.  You're in, you're out, then back in again.

Along the way I have been making decisions.  There is too much online that is distracting to me. I am going to be trimming my life, weeding out what I don't really love, and I mean LOVE, doing online. No more saying yes when I don't want to do something.  I have been stretched too thin, and find that when I dabble in too much shit, I end up creating shit. So I will do what I feel most passionate about.

The first thing I have done is separate my Instagram accounts.  My @jonesbabie Instagram will be the everyday shots of my life, stuff that is don't spur of the moment.  For my art, @cathyjonest will be the account I use.  I decided it is time to dig deeper into what I am capable of and want to do.

So there it is.

Come along if you like.  Because I found out yesterday I am going to be around.

don't hit that sun!

PS...here is something fun for you iPhone users...an app called Prune...a simple game with no rules...you just prune trees...yes there is a point and you can lose your trees, but no mad dash to win, no hyperagitated tensed up feeling...just....relaxation...a truly minimalist zen game...

...life is good. ~cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

just face it

Two prompts for the Friday Reflection for June 10, 2015 caught my eye. Prompt #1 was a quote by Lauren Bacall, who said "I think your whole life shows in your face and you should be proud of that." At my age and with my experience in life, writing about my face would be easy peasy. A bit too easy. So I decided to add another prompt into the mix and combine them for a twist on the Friday prompt.

Prompt #2 was look through my photographs and choose one to write about. This is the photo I chose:

That was me about 4 weeks ago, on the morning of my first surgery for breast cancer.  I say first, because I found out that a second surgery was needed a couple weeks after the first one, and that was not an easy prospect to face. In this photo, I was positive, and just ready to move forward. Who doesn't want to get past something like breast cancer and move forward?  Being positive was easier with that first surgery. The second surgery was more difficult, because negative thoughts began to creep in and take over my brain.

It was hard to overcome those negative thoughts. I am not a negative person by nature, and won't whine and bitch about what was going through my mind. I won't give a lot of advice about the experience either. There have been tons of articles written about breast cancer and survival, etc. Sooner or later I will write a more personal post about my experience, so that maybe someone else who is diagnosed with breast cancer and starts combing the internet for information, will come across my little post and have a few questions answered.  But that time isn't now. I am not ready to dig that deep into my thoughts.

So I will focus on the photo of me.  Sans makeup, it shows me smiling, which is something I do most of the time. I have had a mostly good life, a magical life, with just a few life bumps along the way. Until this year, when I seem to be traveling a mostly bumpy road. Since January I have had to deal with things that are new and difficult for me to comprehend and work through. I have gotten past some, and some are still happening. I've decided that the best thing to do to get through a year like this year is to just take one day, one step at a time. To look forward too far is to sabotage where I am right now. And to look backward with regret is a waste of energy, because nothing will change, and again, it sabotages where my life is in the present. It prevents me from working through what I am dealing with at this moment in time.

So I will drag out my copy of A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle one more time, and thumb through it, and regain some insight into my mood and way of thinking, which lately has been self defeating. I will do this because I am that positive person my dad had a big influence on. I have that strength in me, waiting to be tapped into. I will do it because I am a get it done type of person, and not possessed of a victim mentality. 

I will continue to depend on my family, reconnect with old friends, make new friends, stay connected with my sisters (who were the first best friends I ever had), and find joy through my art and photography. I will tap into the strength inside me to overcome and deal with anything and everything, and it will show in my face.

My face, my eyes. An open window to my soul. 

...life isn't always good, but it is always real... cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

imagine

Photography is an extension of every thought that I have. - Trent Parke

I love social media.  Where else can you have conversations with people who fire your own imagination to new heights through an ongoing exchange of fresh ideas and innovations?  For years I have watched people online who brought their own thoughts to life through their art, and by sharing their work inspired me to areas of thought I would never have experienced without the exposure to social media.  This has been what has driven and influenced my own work.  I am passionate about art in all its forms.  The one thing that makes being human unique is the ability to experience and enjoy creativity in forms too numerous to mention.

As a child I got that exposure through books, then movies and television.  With the advent of the computer age, there has been a veritable explosion of sharing, at a speed that is mind boggling.  I can't say mind overload is unique to social media and computers, because even as a young child I would read so much so fast that my eyes would go blurry.  The main difference between past and present is that I am now more keenly aware that there is no way to experience it all.  For someone who loves to see and do new things, this has created anxiety and sadness at times, the fear that I will miss something, the knowing that I do miss so many things.

But juxtaposed against the anxiety and sadness at what I can't see or do, is the joy I find in everything that I get to ex[experience and learn.  The joy greatly outweighs the negative emotions, and keeps me pushing myself to use my imagination.  The joy that has led me to try to capture my life and thoughts, to share with others, but most especially for my family to have.  I find a lot of comfort in the thought that someday my grandchildren, and their children, will be able to see what I saw, and know me through what I have done.  That is my hope.

It is why I write my thoughts, and put what I see and think on canvas and in photos. It is an extension of me.

Just my thoughts....

...imagine life is good, and it will be... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

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

favorite places and spaces in my mind

tea time

The prompt for July 3rd that caught my eye at Friday Reflections has had me thinking for days.  How could I pick one favorite place?  There have been so many of them.  I think about all the places I have traveled, the things I have seen and done.  How could I possibly whittle it to one favorite?  Janine Ripper at Reflections From a Redhead described her favorite place so colorfully, I was ready to pack a bag and leave right then.

But picking my favorite place?   It finally dawned on me.  The place that is my favorite of all is....

the grapes of cath

my mind

That's right.  All the places I have visited, the things I have seen, are all trapped in lovely memories.  They are stored away, like a filing cabinet full of cards and photos, and I can revisit and think about them whenever I want to.  This ability to pull memories and close my eyes and be there is something I have always done.  It is especially helpful right now, at this moment in my life when there is so much going on with so many people in my life that I often wonder what will happen next.

watercolor, pen & ink

Today, I have pulled out a memory of one of those places.  My sister Vicky's back yard (garden for those of you who don't call a yard a yard) and one of the most peaceful places I have ever been.  It is a place I can sit quietly, looking at the flowers, birds, bees, and listening to the breeze blowing gently through the trees, stirring the leaves to a soft rustling sound.  It is a place I have painted, photographed and long to be when things are overwhelming.  It is my morning refuge, my favorite place to drink my tea and think about all the vagaries of life.

vix, watering her plants

It is a place I return to at least twice a year...and where I will return once more in October of this year.  Until then, I have my memories, filed away in my mind to pull out and relive over and over whenever I feel a yearning for peace and quiet.

morning in the garden

   

 

the perfect rose

 ...life is good. ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

finding the glass slipper

It's been a bummer kind of week.  I have a not fun week coming up next week, and I was mulling it over in my mind this week, and getting kind of cranky in the process.  Then I went to the movies last night with Wretched Daughter, my youngest, and one of my nieces.  We had been planning to see Magic Mike XXL, and I wasn't sure what to expect.  The first Magic Mike movie had been ok, but was a bit on the heavy side, taking itself way too seriously.  This second time around it was played lighter, more for laughs, and about ten minutes into the movie we were having a great time.  The script was a good match with the acting, and there were some classic lines in the movie.  There were also 4 women sitting in the row in front of ours, having as good a time as we were.  I think we were all stomping our feet, hollering and dancing to the music at times.

And as I watched the movie, and laughed with the girls around me, I forgot all my worries and just enjoyed the moment.  And what moments those were!  The music was good, the guys were luscious and the best part of the movie was Joe Manganiello's hunt for the perfect glass slipper.  To find out what that means, you will have to see the movie yourself.  I'm not about to spoil it.  As far as I am concerned, gorgeous Joe stole the show.

When the movie was over, the women in front of us stood up, and the one closest to us said "come on, we are headed to Atlanta to a male review.  We can be there in 2 1/2 hours."  When the three of us started laughing loudly at her tone and sound of determination, she grinned at us and said "y'all are welcome to go too".  We were still laughing when we went out the front door on our way home.

Life isn't perfect, but there is always something good to focus on, and something to make you laugh, if you let yourself find it.

...life is good when you spend it laughing. ~cath
  i am @jonesbabie on twitter

ambulance chasing

June 26, 2015 was an important day for Stevie Wonder. Due for the first checkup since nearly dying in April when his pacemaker had to be replaced after an epic failure to pace his heart (read about it here), he was understandably nervous because he had developed atrial fibrillation after the new pacemaker was placed in his chest.  His recovery from the second surgery was a bit rough compared to the first time.  I tried to reassure him that he was doing ok, and just had to give himself time to heal.  He was a bit whiny about the whole thing in my opinion, but I think that was because my patience was thin from dealing with my own breast cancer and surgery, which was taking place almost simultaneously to what Steve was enduring.

The twins were staying with us for a few days, so they went with us to the clinic. We were going to wait for Gramps to get all his tests finished, then go eat a late breakfast. We left at the crack of dawn for an hour long drive to the clinic. Duncan used the seat belt as a hammock for his head so he could sleep.

Duncan in a head sling

As we walked into the clinic (it was attached to the main hospital), I was explaining to Maddie what an echocardiogram was and the way I watched Gramps heart beating on the monitor when he was in ICU, before his pacemaker was put in. Her response to what I felt was a brilliant description was: "Disgusting!".

the long wait

 As we sat waiting, we talked, and I played a few games of checkers with the kids. Time passed...one hour, then two. As we began our third hour of waiting the kids were about to mutiny from hunger and thirst.  So I took them to another part of the clinic to get some juice and a snack.  As I was digging money out of my purse to buy juice for the kids, Maddie (who was standing near the hall) uttered the fateful words: "There goes Gramps".

I figured she meant he had walked past and was headed to the waiting room looking for us.  I said as much, and that was when she lowered the boom: "No, he wasn't walking, he was on one of those rolling tables."

"WHAT?" I said.
"He was on a rolling table Grammy."
At this point I looked a little panicky because I was caught between putting a $1 bill in a machine for a snack for Maddie, and taking off after the gurney. Maddie made my mind up quickly when she said: "I don't need a snack Grammy!"
So we took off down the hall. The hall took several turns, like a snake. Maddie had run ahead to scout Steve's location as I brought the rear up with a still sluggish Duncan. She would get to one turn, I would shout at her "CAN YOU SEE HIM?", she would shout back "YES I CAN", and then we would advance to the next bend in the hall.

In my mind the whole time was that SW had collapsed during the stress test, and they had come looking for me to tell me they were transporting him to wherever they needed to go to fix him, and couldn't find me because I WAS BUYING EFFING SNACKS FOR STARVING GRANDKIDS.

After what felt like a mile of scouting, reporting and running, I ran out of steam as I made it to the last bend and saw the end of the gurney and a nurse waaaaaaaaaaaay down the hall just going out of sight. I decided we would go back to the waiting room and wait until someone found us and told us the bad news.

So we sat there, they split Duncan's honeybun and drank their juice and I fidgeted like I had ants in my pants. About an hour later, Steve walked in the door of the waiting room.

bubba gramps

WALKED.  I jumped up and almost shouted at him "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?"
He looked at me like I had lost my mind and said "yes".
I said "did you go by on a gurney about an hour ago?"
"No" he said.

Then it hit me.

I had been chasing a stranger down the halls of the hospital. I asked Maddie how she knew it was Gramps on the gurney. She said: "because he had white hair and was wearing a mask like Gramps does when he is sleeping."  Steve saw my face and knew something was up, so I had no choice but to tell him what had happened.

He started laughing.

He was still laughing 4 hours later every time someone called to check on him and he got to tell the story again.

an anticlimactic end to the morning, at Waffle House

I thought I had finally lived it down until Steve said a few hours later:

I would have loved to see what happened if you'd caught that gurney and saw you'd been chasing a stranger down the hall.

Steam started coming out of my ears at this point.

I am now the victim of another Steve story, which grows with "embellishments" every time he tells it.


...life is like chasing gurneys, you never know where you are going or what lies ahead. ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

life, washed down with cherry garcia

These thoughts go hand in hand with #FridayReflection prompt:  Reflect on the following quote: "Don’t compromise yourself. You are all you’ve got." - Janis Joplin

When life throws me a curve, I head for my standby coping skill...music.  Lately it's been music from my past, and last night it was the Grateful Dead.  I decided I needed some ice cream to add to my cope plan (that is my weapon for extreme emotional punches to the gut).  And my go to flavor is Ben & Jerry's Cherry Garcia. I grabbed some, and then spotted my newest coping obsession beckoning enticingly from a shelf on my way out.  I swear I didn't intend to do it, but suddenly they landed in the cart.

So last night was a time for ruminating, minimal communication with my family to keep them in my loop, and just vegging with music and a sugar high.  Because let's face it, the Grateful Dead still effing rocks, and Cherry Garcia slides soothingly across your tongue.

Along with a big ahhhhh of a bite of Banana Hostess Twinkies, a new flavor in a cake that is as big a part of my past as the Beatles, Disneyland, Santa Monica Beach and on and on.


And I realized as I slurped, chewed and listened, that what is happening is a bump in the road, and not a mountain. So it is time to deal, and move on, not to whine or worry.  Time to focus on the present, and let the rest take care of itself.

Sometimes, when you are grateful to be alive, all you need is the Grateful Dead in your ears, and some Cherry Garcia to wash it down.

 

...life is good with a little cherry garcia on it...  ~cat
i am @jonesbabie on twitter
 

rubberband man

Two weeks ago I opened my closet door, searching for the lightest material I could find. It had to be light as gossamer, and not add one ounce to the scale when I stepped up at the doctor's office. I knew jeans would add at least a pound of fake weight, so I dug through sweaters, tops, pants, jeans, searching...searching...beginning to feel desperate.

Then I saw it. Tucked back out of sight, never worn because it had always been too clingy. Too revealing of bulges and bumps I didn't want on display. The dress. Just a simple navy, scoop neck knit. You ladies know the type of dress I am talking about. I twisted my lips as I wondered if I could get into it. Then I lifted it off the hanger and my decision was made.

It weighed about 2 ounces. Perfect. If I could just squeeze my ass into it. I went to ask Wretch if she had a slip I could borrow. It had been so long since I wore a dress that I didn't own a slip. Wretched Daughter handed me a slip as she uttered the fateful words:

"It's a slimming slip."

That should have clued me. The key word was slimming.  I didn't have time to think it through so I grabbed the slip and headed to the shower to get ready for work. That is when the fun began. I learned some valuable lessons as I struggled to get this piece of spandex hell on:

1. Never put on anything spandex while your skin is still damp from a shower. It sticks like glue and refuses to budge.
2. Never use lotion before putting on spandex for reason #1.
3. Never EVER put it on over your head.  STEP into it.
4. Once you have put it on over your head, you are trapped.

It was nice and soft and stretchy when I was holding it in my hand. Once I got it over my head and under my armpits, it turned into a boa constrictor. It rolled up firmly under my armpits, and refused to budge. I couldn't reach it to pull it over my head, and I couldn't unroll it to pull it down.

I was stuck. At that point, I got a bit panicky, and started to sweat like a pig. Which made the boa constrict tighter. It began to feel like I would die, and end up with a rubber band buried up in my armpits.

I pulled from the front. Then realized I was pulling the bottom of the slip out over the top and it couldn't roll down. Not even one inch. I tried to unroll it from underneath, but it decided that it wasn't going to budge that way either. I tried to reach behind my back and pull it down from there.  Nope. I tried to pull the whole nightmare of a slip off over my head. Nope. By then my body was swelling from having the blood flow constricted, and it was buried even deeper into my flesh, if that was possible.

I was running out of time and made one last effort. I grabbed the front of the slip and yanked on it like I was pulling down a shade. It hesitated, then suddenly unfolded. I rolled it down my thighs, and then stopped to catch my breath.

Suddenly it felt pretty good. Or maybe it was that I could breathe again. I slid my dress over my head and looked down. Bumps, bulges and odd spots all under control. It really was a miracle slip. Wretch cautioned me that it wouldn't remold me (dang it) but that it would smooth me.  It sure did. I felt like a tire with a new tread. Today was going to be great, I could just feel it.

I drove to work. When I got out of my car, I realized that the rubberband slip was going to let me know all day who the boss was.

Because every time I sat down all day, the backside of the slip slid up and cupped my behind. I spent the entire day feeling like my ass was in a sling.

All that effort to save 6 ounces on the scale at the doctor's office.

The dress went in the garbage when I got home that night. The slip is still embedded in my skin.


...you're bound to lose control when the rubberband starts to jam... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

sex, drugs, and rock & roll

#Friday Reflection prompt: Reflect on how it's important to make the most out of life.

Several weeks ago Wretch noticed the Steve Miller Band was going to be performing  in concert  in Tuscaloosa, Alabama in June. I told her to book three tickets and we would drag Stevie Wonder along to it. We'd missed the Magic City Art Connection and Corks and Chefs on April 26 because SW decided to break his pacemaker that weekend. We gave away three tickets so that Wretch and I could spend the weekend watching SW lie in a hospital bed in ICU waiting for a new ticker on Monday.

At the end of May, after a couple months of testing and retesting with mammograms, ultrasound and needle biopsy, I got the verdict. Breast cancer, caught early, and was told the recommendation. Surgery (lumpectomy), radiation, and oral medication for a few years. Not a problem. I was ready.

Then it hit me.

The concert I had waited patiently for was in a couple weeks.

Oh hell no, I thought to myself. I am not missing this concert, or dodging elbows with a boob that is in a sling. I talked to the surgeon, and although my oldest daughter wasn't keen on it (neither was middle sister when she found out later on), Wretch understood where my brain and heart were. With the music. The surgeon assured us I that I would not drop dead if I put my surgery off for 3 weeks.

So I did.

Sunday my ass was sitting in a pool of sweat in a plastic stadium seat heated to oven temps by the 90F setting sun at the Tuscaloosa Amphitheater. I sipped a glass of red wine in a plastic cup, groped SW a bit, and enjoyed some of the best music from the 70's played by a couple of great bands, now old farts like me. (Steve Miller is 71.)

And damn, they can still play.

Some things just get better with age.

...rockin the good life... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

make it snappy

Truth is stranger than fiction. It's a fact that I am blind as a bat without my glasses. I wear contact lenses.  There is a small period of  time when I remove my contacts, and before I put my glasses on my face, when I am blind and lack depth perception.

Tonight I took my contact lenses out. I reached into the cabinet, got out my glasses in their case. What happened next is what caused the chain of events below.
I opened my eyeglass case upside down.

My eyeglasses fell out, headed for the ceramic tile floor (brand new glasses by the way).

I grabbed at the glasses with my left hand to catch them before they fell to the floor and got scratched (only you eyeglass wearers can appreciate my panic).

As I grabbed with my left hand at my glasses, I reflexively closed my right hand.

Eyeglass case in my right hand (spring loaded closure) snapped shut with a loud crack.

On my right nipple.

I screamed and yanked.

I'm still afraid to open the glass case. 

I think my nipple may be inside.


...make life snappy... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

talk the walk

My sisters were walking up a flight of stone steps recently, oblivious to me watching them as they walked upward, heads together, chattering away. It was a gorgeous sunny day in California,and we had stopped at a winery. I watched them talking, noticing how the sunlight danced around them, creating a halo of light around their heads. It was a special moment for me, and I snapped them as they continued to ascend the stairway.

Today is day 28 of NaBloPoMo, and the prompt was ACTION. Although it can be portrayed many ways, I chose to use this photo of my sisters and include a haiku. The action may be more subtle, but the light, the contrast, and their movement is action in any sense of the word. How do you portray action in your photos? 

I used three apps to edit this photo. Snapseed (my #1 app), VSCO cam, and Color Cap for the text. Three more days to go in this month's challenge to blog daily. It's been uphill at times, but sometimes it helps to have a goal and routine to help deal with the unknown factors in life that pop up.

...life is full of action... ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

purrfect portraits

NaBloPoMo...day 27...prompt is portrait and I'm stumped. I mean, I'm with my daughter today, getting her fifth procedure on her vocal chord, this time to make sure she is still (almost) clear from the vocal chord cancer she'd endured 4 surgeries for. Now we will have to wait for biopsy results. Able to breathe a sigh of relief, I contemplated portrait and what that means to me. 

I considered taking a few shots of Jen as we waited for her to go to surgery, but my mood wasn't right and I'm wasn't feeling it. I wanted something I haven't tried before. So I rejected each family member for various similar reasons. Soon I was almost out of material. We got home from hospital, and I was playing with the new kittens when it hit me:

Portraits don't have to be human. 

Inspired, I grabbed my iPhone and started snapping. I soon realized for every 100 shots I took of these furry moving targets, I might get one usable photo. But I'm loving and living in the moment, and realized I am beginning to gain more control over this medium called iPhoneography. So here are my choices for today, presented for consideration. And totally unretouched. Did I capture the story I was trying to tell? You tell me...

...life is purrrfect... ~cath

i am @jonesbabie on twitter 

man vs. nature

NaBloPoMo, day 25: NATURE. My take on the prompt. Man makes his mark, nature slowly wears it away. We rush through our busy little lives, and miss the point of living. Surrounded by beauty, we are trapped, blinded by petty human struggles. It's not too late to open your eyes, and truly see the beauty that is nature. I challenge you to take a moment every day, and look around you.

...life is good. ~cath

i am @jonesbabie on twitter 

friday reflection: the funniest thing I saw this week

This week, the +FridayReflections prompts offered a chance to go back to previous weeks and write about something we had not used as a prompt. Since I missed a few weeks, dealing with other things, I looked back and the prompt I wanted to write about jumped right off the page and into my head:

What was the funniest thing you saw or heard this week?

If you saw what I posted yesterday you will see a photo of a 10 year old boy smiling. If you are very observant, you will notice his tie. His mother noticed it the second she saw him from the other side of the room. Here is the story behind the tie:

Jen called me the other day to share something. I had been feeling a bit overwhelmed, dealing with one thing after another in my life. I was beginning to feel as though a day wasn't going to dawn that didn't bring some major thing to endure with it. So I was half ass listening to what Jen said at first. She told me about Awards Day at school for the twins, and their accomplishments. I was proud of the kids, no doubt about that, but still miserable in my own skin. Then she told me about Duncan. 

This year not only did they receive awards for accomplishments, the twins also graduated from elementary school to middle school. So graduation was a big thing for them. Jen told me she sent a tie, shirt and jacket with Dunc so he could dress properly for such an important occasion. She arrived from work just in time to see the ceremony.

And being a mother, she noticed it right away. Dunc, who didn't hold his bottle until 3 days before Jen weaned him off it, and didn't dress himself until he was well over 5, had dressed himself. Jacket, shirt and tie in place. Except for one thing.

The tie was INSIDE the neck of his shirt. When she saw it, Jen started laughing. Then she fought the urge to do corrective dressing and let him wear it like it was. 

I was laughing as loudly as Jen while she told me this. I could just picture it, and when I did get a picture from Jen, it was exactly as I imagined. And...the tie was RED, which meant it REALLY stood out.

A bit later I was struck by the real lesson. It wasn't the laughter, although that was medicine for my soul. It was the fact that Jen got it. She understood what was important that day. It wasn't the tie. It was the fact that Duncan, the boy with ADD who had been failing the first grade, was graduating on the A/B honor roll.

And THAT is more important than a red tie inside a shirt.

...life is good. ~cath
i am @jonesbabie on twitter

Today is day 23 of NaBloPoMo over at BlogHer and the prompt is OUTSIDE. I was stumped about it until we stopped at a traffic light today. Stevie Wonder said "look what is painted on the outside of that guy's truck!"  I saw it, and as we passed by I shot this photo. Little bit of editing (I couldn't be me without tweaking a photo with an app), a caption, and here is my take on the prompt (and also the funniest thing I saw besides Dunc's tie):

day 19: vintage treasures

Seems a good night to sit back and think about family, memories and smile as I look at the photos I took for today's prompt over at NaBloPoMo.