Good News!

It's another beautiful day in the neighborhood. The operation Tuesday went well and I'm healing fast. I have one long incision down the right side of my neck and one straight across the front, a la Frankenstein. My doctor sews well so the stitches are straight and even. Tuesday morning they'll come out and I'll be on my way. I expected to have trouble talking and eating, at least for awhile, but the opposite has been true. As a matter of fact, I think my voice is clearer than it was before. Go figure. I'll take improvement wherever it presents itself.

I would love to report that these tumors won't recur but that would be unrealistic. We don't know what causes them, why my body produces these anomalies. We do know, however, that if we are vigilant and proactive we can contain them. I use the pronoun we because it's a team sport. My doctor, my family, my friends, and I work together to keep me cancer free. It's a formula that has worked since 1984.

Why I'm Still Standing

Sometimes you're the windshield, and sometimes you're the bug. That's not original but it fits. At the moment I have bug status. I know it's temporary but it still sucks. I had my routine CT scan Thursday morning and my routine checkup with Dr. Suen Thursday afternoon. My weight's up, my blood pressure is good, and I'm on the verge of being cocky when Dr. Suen goes to look at the scan. I resume my crossword puzzle and wait....and wait....and wait. UH-OH, he's been gone too long and that's not a good thing. He and I have danced this dance so often I know what's coming. He's seen something he doesn't like.

When he re-enters the room Dr. Suen glides to the stool in front of my chair and lands gracefully, reaching with one hand to feel the front of my neck. I think of the way the Canadian geese fly down and settle on the lake in one fluid motion, feet first. There are two little tumors on the cartilage of my larynx and one tiny one below my right ear. They'll be easy to remove and we need to do it right away. It's not so much a sense of urgency as it is a need to perform a task. That's why I see him so often, to stay on top of these pesky, relentless tumors. Otherwise, they take on a life of their own and I've had all of that I want.

So tomorrow afternoon my oldest brother, Gary, will drive me to the hospital and play the waiting game while I juice up on the "good drugs." But, tonight I'll stay up late, drinking water and eating chocolate, because it might be awhile before I can do either.

Dancing with Jesus

We rejoice in the fact that Dollie “Faye” Porter of Benton is now dancing with Jesus and no longer suffering from brain cancer.

What a send-off! Can't you just picture it? I'll bet Buddy Hollie and Elvis are providing the music. I didn't know Faye but that one sentence tells me who she was. Obituaries should be tributes, not statements of fact. The facts are important but we obituary readers need more of a story. In one sentence I know Faye liked to dance, was a Christian, and had brain cancer. That sentence could launch a novel, a screenplay. Anne Tyler should write the book.

If I ever need to write an obituary I'm going to remember to put a little life into it.

Ride, Sally, Ride!

I get the biggest kick out of driving visitors through Garvan Gardens in a golf cart. They're all so excited about being there and their attitudes are contagious. And of course, I'm a sucker for an audience. I officially volunteer on Friday mornings but I can't stay away other times. I walk the park on those days, looking for new flowers and interesting things to point out to my cart riding guests. The history of the garden is fascinating and I like to share that. It's a work in progress and I try to keep up with new and future developments. I take my job personally. Visitors pay an $8.00 admission and an additional $6.00 to ride. It's my responsibility to give them their money's worth. Last Friday I must have been a little too convincing. Twice I was offered a $5.00 tip when we got back to the visitor center. While that's gratifying, it's not good manners to accept the tips. Instead I put the money in the donation box. It hurts a little but it must be done.

My favorite group last week was three elderly ladies from New Hampshire. It was -3 degrees at their homes. It was about 68 degrees here. A sweater or windbreaker was all the wrap needed. They were giddy! They giggled and laughed and made jokes the whole time we were out. When I drive guests from other parts of the country I learn about their horticulture and climate. Camellias were a complete marvel to the New Englanders. Apparently they can't survive the New England cold.

The couple from New Mexico told me about alligator pines. The bark looks like alligator hide, hence the name. They also mentioned pinons and a couple other varieties of pine from their state. I didn't realize so many types existed. To me a pine tree is a pine tree.

I'm very excited about what's coming. Every time I'm at the garden the tulips are a little taller. Some of them are budding and a very few have opened. I might have to go every day so I don't miss anything. I want to see 93,000 blooming tulips. It will be splendid!

Sold!

When you downsize from 1800 square feet to 640 things have to go. Choices have to be made. Debbie is a collector so the house resembled a well appointed Cracker Barrel. We both had heirlooms that would need to be redistributed to family members. This was not easy. We faced 20 years worth of joint accumulation. We started by prioritizing.

No matter what, I was taking my artwork. I have a good collection of my oldest brother's work and it was going with me, period. (Check him out at http://www.simmonsart.com/) Anything my dad built for me would come with me. We brought Debbie's antique iron bed. We don't have any idea how old it is but it takes two people to lift the headboard. My computer, an oak bookshelf, and a couple of small tables made the cut.

We were going to have a yard sale but there was too much good stuff so Debbie called an auctioneer. We had to be absolutely certain of what we were selling because once we signed that contract it didn't belong to us anymore. It was weird to see our history spread out on shelves and displayed like what it was, merchandise. Never mind that we'd bought much of it the way we were selling it. It had been ours and now it would belong to someone else.

Auction day I stayed home. I didn't have the guts to watch. I knew once it was gone I wouldn't miss it but I didn't want to watch people loading their trucks with my former possessions.

Minimization suits us. Before I buy anything I have to think, "Where will I put it?" If the answer is "I don't know" I don't buy it, no matter how cute it is. We have our knick knacks, things we're sentimental about, but they aren't the focus. Our windows provide our favorite decoration, a view of the lake.

Of Mice and Men

When Debbie and I bought the condo in Hot Springs we had a five year plan. It would be our weekend getaway and vacation place. After five years we would sell our house in Benton and move to the lake. Well, we all know about the best laid plans of mice and men. We fell in love with everything about it. The tiny space, about 640 square feet, challenged us to find just the right balance of furniture placement for maximum utility. It was like decorating a doll house.

As spring gave way to summer we met the other owners. It was a perpetual party every weekend. Fish frys sprang up from nowhere, each of us contributing something to the meal. We fished, we swam, we floated around the lake on party barges. Most of us in our building are early morning people. By 6:00 or 6:30 a.m. we're on the porch drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. Evenings we watch the sunset. How could it be better?

Every Friday afternoon Debbie and I raced from work to the condo. We didn't even stop at the house first. Every Sunday afternoon we'd reluctantly go home. Then we started taking clothes for work so we could stay until Monday morning. If we didn't have work clothes with us and decided to stay we went to the mall and bought new ones. Debbie started coming over one night during the week. Then I started doing it. We were addicts!

The house in Benton began looking neglected because it was. I resented the attention it demanded. Our beautiful yard grew into chaos. I paid my nephew to keep it mowed so it didn't look abandoned.

In December 2005 the other shoe dropped. Dr. Suen told me that I had a tumor on the right side of my neck. That meant the cancer was moving. That meant so was I. I told Debbie that I wanted to change our plan. It was time to sell our house, our home for 15 years, and move to the lake. We were both a little shell shocked and it's a bad idea to make big decisions during times of stress but this time I knew I was right. I couldn't deal with two households and a recurrence. One I could control, the other I couldn't. Debbie agreed and by Christmas we were settled into our tiny nest on the lake. The move caused quite a stir among family and friends but, for us, it was the right thing to do.

Here I come!

Writing this blog has created some unexpected benefits. Originally, my objective was to share my experiences with other cancer survivors and to give encouragement to those who needed it. Maybe I've done that, I don't know. What I know is that I see myself more clearly. By recounting difficulties and fears that I have overcome I realize how how much I've grown, how strong I really am. Paralyzing anxiety attacks no longer hold me back. I'm not plagued with "what ifs." I have no control over "what ifs." Instead I can climb aboard my Sea-Doo and zip across the lake by myself, exploring coves and islands.

I don't pretend to be fearless but I have a much better handle on who I am. I enjoy my own company but I enjoy the company of others. Anyone I've asked who has recovered from a life threatening illness has told me the same thing. While you're sick it's about the fight. If you accomplish recovery all the little aggravations become what they really are, pimples on the butt of life. My experiences have taught me patience but I'm impatient with people who get stirred up over petty things. Save that energy for a real fight.

This blog has helped me work through some resentments and grief and fears that I didn't even know I had. I was defining myself as a cancer survivor instead of incorporating the survival into the bigger picture of who I am. I'm moving forward and picking up steam.