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 |   My journey through (and beyond) the valley with Cancer as my companion. |
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Dear Friend: This is not a Blog about writing! (I already have one of those.) This is a blog about a journey I am taking with illness. I have recently been diagnosed with Cancer. My goal is honest therapy as I progress through, and beyond this new reality in my life. I hope that, somewhere along the way you will find some words that will help you too. While this is, in fact, an interactive Blog, I hope that you will scroll slowly down this page. For you see, the front of this Blog IS my journey. The entries are conversations that are held along the journey.Yes, there is a lot on it--before actually getting to the Blog entries. But, I hope that by the objects and words which appear before the Blog itself, you might come to understand just a little bit about me, and my journey, and some truly amazing friends who have agreed to journey with me. I hope that you, too, will choose to accompany me on my walk--through the Valley. I invite you to join me, and discover the wondrous truths, meet some truly amazing people, and share those "memorable" moments this journey will undoubtedly present. Come along, won't you? In His Care, ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Would you like to help me help others? I found this amazing organization, and I am proud to be a sponsor. I hope you will check it out. It's called The Network For Good.  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "RISUS OMNIA - INCRUMENTUS PER DEDECUS - SAPIENTIA PER DAMNUM" ("Every thing is funny - Growth through humiliation - Wisdom through loss") ~Leunig~ The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse. ~Helen Keller~ "If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot tell it about other people." ~Virginia Woolf~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "There is strength in truth." ~The Barton Family Crest~ ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** “Character cannot be developed in ease and quiet. Only through experience of trial and suffering can the soul be strengthened, vision cleared, ambition inspired, and success achieved.” — Helen Keller, American social activist, public speaker and author (1880-1968) I have moved the list of my thanks for those who have helped to make this little Blog so very special. I hope that you will take a moment to read the list, growing every day, and let these fellow travellers along this journey know that you appreciate the contributions they make to our walk together.
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1:2-4 ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please feel free to click on the Blog Rings icon below to be transported to some of the very best of the Best Bloggers around WDC. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** If you are new to WDC, or to our Blogging community, I highly recommend the monthly edition of "The Blogville News". Feel free to click below, and let scarlett_o_h know that a Blogger sent ya! Hey! We've started a Christian's Blog Ring on WDC. Click on the logo, and join us! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Budroe
 Ring LeaderI have three publications at the moment. Here is a link to purchase my latest one. Buy a great read, and help a fellow writer out, Okay?  ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| Well, maybe it is only because I can't stand to see a day on my Blog's Calendar that isn't blue. I notice those two of them up there, and it just grinds my coffee! I've had a bit of response to my previous entry, and I've been thinking about it. I want to seriously consider any input that comes through this blog, or any other writing. Like a good Critique, there is stuff you should pay attention to, stuff that makes sense, but not in this case, and/or stuff that makes no sense whatsoever. I wish to address a couple of points from the feedback, if I may. First of all, I take it on faith that perhaps someone, somewhere down the road, will be called upon this journey that has never been anywhere near the topic before. Some of what I talk about is just really simple living stuff. But, it is in a new light. The things that we understand as people can get all jumbled up once we become members of the club. Hopefully, the words here will help direct those folks to a better path. But, some of the stuff is just for the club. I don't know how else to put it. I've got a lot of time in the trenches, and there are just tons of things that I never had a hope of understanding before. As one of my friends said, "Have you forgotten that you have spent most of your life on the outside of the club?" Nope. In fact, it is that very memory that I hope is serving me well now. I know what it is like to feel helpless, and sad for someone on this journey as a patient. I know what it feels like to hold your most loved one as they pass from here to Home. I know what it is like to watch, and feel, and smell, and taste the reality of a loved one who is on a part of this journey that I cannot walk. I empathise with both sides of the line. So which side of the line am I on. Who am I writing for, and who am I writing to? Until November 16th, 2006, that would have been an easy question to answer. But, you see, I was keel-hauled. I was conscripted into service, if you will. I am writing, and talking as a person, to people. It just so happens that, recently, I was diagnosed with (among other things) Cancer. My reflections are of a person familiar, while completely foreign to the service. I am writing to the patient AND their loved ones, care givers, and providers. The things that I want to say from my heart are those things that I hope, beyond measure, will help all who journey here. I don't necessarily have to be right. I just have to be honest. There are times when I struggle for a single word, or a single sentence--just because of that point. Do I state it tactfully, or plainly? Is there a way to do both? Is that the best way? I have a lot of help with the words that finally appear on this page, and it is help that I implicitly trust. Yes, my help comes from Dad, and of that there is in my mind no doubt at all. But, my help also comes from you, who respond with your truth, and your feelings and observations. I do not wish to slow either inputs down one bit. If anything, I really hope to do a lot more stepping aside in all cases. Some of my writing is, and will be, just me with a bone to pick. I have them. I think that is alright. I am under no illusions of greatness here, believe me. Mine is not the final word on any topic. I may well write like I sometimes speak. People tell me that I state a casual opinion as if it were ground into a stone tablet. I guess I write that way as well. It does sort of figure. After all, the result is coming from the same fallible, human source. (Yep, I gottem belly buckon, too!) But, the only promise I ever made was to be honest, as well as I know to be. This walk has ups, and downs. The road turns from point to point along the way. I will be walking the journey as the path reveals itself. I am so grateful that you are along with me for the journey. I will stumble, or perhaps even fall from time to time. That's perfectly alright. Maybe the person coming along the path long after we have taken the journey will see the obstacle, and not stumble. That will be sufficient for me. In His Care, Budroe |
| Which is, usually, cause for fear and trepidation amongst the stronger mental powers of my world. "Us!" has been on my mind lately. There is a "society", if you will, of very special people who can relate to this journey in a special way. For this particular discussion now, I am not talking about only those who are associated with Cancer patients. I am talking, specifically, ABOUT Cancer patients. You know how you can "tell" an alcoholic, from 100 yards off in the distance? Or, how you can tell a drug addict by lots of different ways, from the clothes they wear, to their attitude and those special words they use that only other addicts know and understand? Cancer patients have a way of "sensing" other patients as well. It can be scary, because that means that someone can "tell" about me, too. I know I am sick. I don't particularly look sick, yet. I don't "sound" like a Cancer patient. But, because of a lot of really dedicated people, I feel pretty confident that I am one. I've just about gotten past the "they got it wrong" part. That is a very private battle, you see, that every patient must endure as a part of the process on this journey. And, I must admit that, at least on more days than not, I don't really "feel" sick. The Diabetes is a source of constant reminder, because so much of my new life centers around making myself aware of it. I went out to eat with a very good friend last evening, to Logan's Roadhouse. I had previously had a discussion with one of you who follow this little blog online, and the discussion came up about good places to eat. I mentioned that I happen to like Logan's-sorta like a diabetic loves sugar! I love Logan's. So, my friend calls me from the road, and tells me he's about an hour out of town. He wanted to "treat" me to dinner at the place of my choice as his Christmas present to me. I thought that was pretty spiffy, myself. I chose to keep it on this side (cheap) of the river. He was driving his big truck. He was going to "drop" his trailer at a parking facility we know, and come get me. Truckin' around downtown Louisville isn't "necessarily" difficult, as long as you know where you are, and where you are going. (There is an entire section of downtown that big trucks cannot safely negotiate, because of a long series of low overpasses that are less than 12'6". Big trucks are 13"6' tall. Convertible rigs=bad!) I got ready, and here comes my pal, toolin' down my street in his big red truck. (It's okay, Blondes--different joke!) The kids around here used to just love it when I would pull up and park my truck. I gave lots of tours, I tell ya. We sat and chatted for a few minutes. Guess what he wanted to talk about? I haven't seen him for weeks. He's done "a turn" that encompassed 3/4 of the country. Football season is full swing. I was, for 13 years, a season ticket-holder to the Denver Broncos. I'm a fan. I'm settin' up to do some music studio work after the first of the year--or was until this week. (We'll have to see about that--sorry Bill. I'll let ya know!) For thirty minutes, he wanted to know about my illness. <sigh> Not the abbreviated "I'm okay" version. He wanted chapter and verse. It is so very difficult to explain in the first place, and especially to someone you care about like I do my friends. I want them to see ME, not my illness. I wanted to argue with him about his "alleged" football team--he was having none of it. He has, it seems, developed a great difficulty looking me in the face. He is a very good man, of gentle heart and a great faith. He is kind to a fault, sometimes I think. He has had a bit of a rough life, and is constantly trying to get "back on track" with his goings-on. It pains him to know that I am ill. I know this. Yet, like a moth to the flame, that is a full thirty minutes of our beginning conversation. I didn't want to, but I asked him anyway, why he was so "gung-ho" about taking me out for Christmas now. What do you reckon his reply was? You might, accidentally, guess. But, if you are a Cancer patient, if you are one of "Us!", you'll know it immediately. You see, that's one of those things that we understand in our private little club. We talk about it with each other, but it is very difficult talking about such things with those who are not members--no matter how much we love them. We see the agony, and the pain on their faces. We feel the sadness in their hearts. We didn't use to. We used to be people. Now, we are patients. The joking is gone, and the laughter is rare. We must now be treated differently, you see. We are, in a word, freaks. There is a morbid interest in being near us, but not close to us. I have a dry wit, at least of the wit I have. Sarcasm is one of my strongest comedic weapons. Now, it's off limits. To us, we have the ability to see around, or through, or beyond our illness. Yes, we know. Trust me, we know. This IS a serious business. But, you see friends, to us, life still happens on a daily basis. While it is true that we may have more "bad" moments than perhaps those others of you may have, they are not all bad moments. Regardless of your health status, this is true for everyone. There is no dividing line (that I can see, anyway--yet) between healthy people and Cancer patients on this front. Why is it that we must immediately be "cordoned off" from the friends, and the people who have given our life such value? Well, it happens. It happened yesterday with my friend. He didn't know (after 20 years) how to deal with me. What he sees isn't me, at all. And, what I saw in him is the same thing that shows up for every one of us patients. He saw a scarey illness that has the ability to end my life. When you are one of us, you see "the look". Do I understand it? Of course, I do. Do I empathize with those of you not in the club, who give it without even knowing it? Nope. I don't now, and I don't think I ever will. Do you have such feelings for left-handed people? You know, those durned blue-eyed freaks are a sight to behold, now aren't they!! The frustration level rises when I talk frankly and openly about the disease to him, for instance. I don't mind explaining medical terminology that I have come to speak like it was my first language. When you are one of "us", that happens in a very strange way. We do have "our" language. In this little club, we use terms that we completely understand that you just don't. Sorry about that, really I am. We walk a certain way, with a certain gate. That changes as we proceed down the path of this journey, too. We wear fashions that you perhaps would never choose. We eat meals that you would NEVER choose!! We also have, in a very real sense, a different reality in our little club. This is a bit of a hard one to explain, and it will take more than one entry to do it. But, that reality DID play in our conversation yesterday. For us, you see, it is never far away. So why did my friend want so badly to treat me to Christmas dinner, you ask? "Well, Bud. Who knows if you are going to have another Christmas to have dinner with?" Gosh, I don't know. Wasn't that true LAST Christmas, too? And there, friends, you have one of the pledged secret handshakes of our little club. We see it coming. We can smell it from a mile away. More than the stench of fear, or the pain of anguish, we in this little club have come to know what I call "The Tyranny of the Urgent!" He feels remorse the second he says it to me, like he is going to change the course of history or something. Also, he is afraid for his friend. He is in pain, and just doesn't know how to express it, or what to do about it. For us, that's one of the joys of being in the club. Somehow, it falls upon us to deal with for you. Do people really NEED permission to be real, and honest? I mean, really? In this little blog, one of the first requirements that I made to myself (and to Dad) was that I was going to be honest. I would always try to move out of the way, and let Dad have His say here. That was the agreement. And it still is. In this little club, honesty is the first rule. In all our dealings with ourselves, and others, honesty covers everything. For many new club members, this is a shocking new reality that takes some serious getting used to, believe me. "Don't speak of death around him. Don't joke about it. He's sick, you know!" Last night, I had an online conversation with a new and dear friend who is not only sharing this walk with us, but is actively a patient herself. We joked for twenty minutes about how campy the last part of the opening scene of "Mission Impossible" was on TV. "Good luck, Mr. Phelps. Should any member of your IM force be caught, or killed, the Secretary will dis-avow any knowledge of your actions. This tape will self-destruct in 5 seconds." There it was, in our face. But, you see, what we were talking about, between ourselves, wasn't death. It was a campy conversation! Okay, perhaps it is "sick" humor. But, that is precisely what it is, you see. It is a special affiliation that we share. But what it is more than anything else, is honesty. When we can blow off a little fear, or anguish with our inside conversations, we can deal with the "bad" moments perhaps a little better. Talking frankly with my truckin' friend about death, and Cancer, and tests, and Doctors wasn't because I wanted to. It seemed as though he needed to. And, not just to get caught up on my medical condition, either friends. He is still trying with great difficulty (and not making very much progress, either I might add) to wrap his brain around this new reality in my life, and in his. Sickness is close to him. He hates it with a passion. He would not choose for me, or for anyone else. I understand all that, I promise I do. For us, it is an accepted given. We, the members of the club, have Cancer. Some of us are going to die from it. Some will die sooner than others. There is going to be a lot of pain, and sadness to go around. But, must we wear shrouds? You know, one of the BIG considerations in medical care, palliative care, and therapy for Cancer patients is "quality of life" issues. Big bucks are spent on it each and every year. Why? If my life must so change, and if I must become some person that I have never been, then I must ask you: "Who has the Cancer? Me?" You see, for us, it is a constant challenge to maintain our identity as WE know it, from the inside, that seems to be the biggest challenge for you, on the outside. For us, Cancer is, finally, just a word. It does not define us, or limit us, or re-shape us into some kind of pitiable circus freaks that you have sympathy and sadness for. Respect us, and remember us for who we are! You have a toothache, and I have Cancer! Yeah, so? People don't usually die from toothaches, do they? And, there it is again. Do you understand what I am trying to say? Man, I hope so. I know it's all over the radar. But, for us, it really IS all over the radar. For us, this little club takes us into every corner of our forever, and our forever past. And, just so you understand, we do understand that these are places that you cannot travel. That's okay. Sometimes, we really don't need the company. Please help us help you understand the difference. It matters so very much. What is my fear today? Good question. I try to answer that one each day, myself. But, for today, my fear is that I have, in some sense, lost a friend. All we can do now is "hang on". He is so very afraid to even try to make a new memory--which would help me so much later on down the road. I twitch, and he says "Are you alright?" Yeah, I twitched, why. Nothing is normal anymore. His concern and love are real. They are, perhaps more real than he has ever known before. So, why is that my problem? How come the patient has to make it alright? I don't know, but for us, it just seems a tad unfair at times. And, THIS is what's unfair, not the disease! Why can he not understand that? For us, life is still as magical and mystical as it ever was. We still live every day. We still laugh, and eat, and poop, every day. Sometimes, it hurts to breathe. Sometimes, the pain in our bodies is so intense that we cannot speak. Do not be afraid for us, that only makes us weaker. For us, having to attend to your fear drains our ability to fight. For us, that just seems unfair. And then, I got this amazing gift from my friend chalaedra today. I want to share this very special gift with you, because when it came into my mailbox, I was grieving the loss of my friend--even though he does not yet realize it. For those of us in the club, I believe in perhaps more of a significant way than ever, the meaning that lies behind it. May I share it with you? ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Do you SEE it? It's a promise for every member of the club, you see. Unto US, a child is born. What a special promise, just for us. What a gloriously beautiful Christmas card this is!! And, what an Amazing Grace created it, just for US! And, the promise isn't just for Cancer patients (but we get first dibs!) either. The promise is for US all! Please let 'us' be a part of that promise, too. Thanks, Dad. We love You, Too |
| I was in a conversation with a reader. Have you ever had that experience? You know, the one that is loaded, on both sides. You, somehow wanting to be "validated", while they are either "starry-eyed" to be talking with a 'writer', or the look on their face which doesn't really hide what they are trying not to say. I'm not just certain how to compare this experience to others that you, or even I, may have had in our working lives. Perhaps it is akin to "Annual Review" time, when you want to know you are doing your work at least as well as you believe you are. Or, maybe you are hoping your "boss" will be generous, and overlook your failings. It could even be that you have already spent your performance bonus several times, in your mind. Will it be a treasure this time, or only a toy? Will you get to keep your job? Or, maybe it is like preparing a Holiday meal. You, the cook, have hopes and expectations of satisfied tummies, with a double-heaping of praise upon your gourmet culinary skills that causes the warm glow of satisfaction to begin somewhere in the middle of your chest. The planning, the shopping, the selections of items that are your "specialty" are completed with love, or at least determination. Of course, it could be that you just have to fix one more durned meal, for a bunch of inconsiderate ingrates, who won't even notice the care you took in "fluting" the potatoes. How wonderful it would be if, just once, you got to be the one sitting in the Barco-Lounger this year! What would you do, however, if your evaluator gave you a surprise you weren't expecting? How would you react if you got a promotion, a pay raise, AND a bonus? Yeah, now THAT'S more like it! Or if, instead of having to slave over a complete Holiday meal, you were treated to a meal in the finest restaurant you could imagine, with YOU being the very special guest? What would you do if your boss gave you the sad news of "necessary cutbacks", and "down-sizing"? How would you feel if you awoke on the morning of that special day, and your home was ablaze? One just never knows, do one? This strange occurance happened to me last evening, in our local quiet little shopping boutique, WallyWorld! Remember the prescriptions? Yeah, well, I had to go pick them up. There were probably one or two people in my County who were NOT in the store at the time I so wisely chose to enter. The greeters were so consumed in their task, they were leaning back against the carts talking and joking with each other. I felt as if I was going to have less than a splen-diff-o-riffic time at my local boutique when I had to ask one of them to move so I might retrieve a buggy. (Does one actually retrieve--a buggy?) A middle-aged gentleman was waiting for me to secure my shopping assistant, and I noticed him looking at me. This has, upon the rarest of occasions, happened to me before. It happens so rarely, in fact, that I notice--almost every time. I got my buggy, and pulled the next one out for him as well. He just kept looking at me. I'm figuring he's got me pegged for the friend of his long-lost brother or something. I have been told, on numerous occasions that I have an identical twin somewhere in this town. We have yet to meet, but I have had 15 minute conversations with some stranger who, finally, would figure out that I had no idea who they were. It happens. He said, "Excuse me, Sir. I don't mean to intrude, but are you by chance Bud Fields?" Ah, now we're talkin'! No, wait! Do I owe anybody money? Stretching for time, I cattily responded to his inquiry. "I beg your pardon?" "Are you Bud Fields? You look just like him." "Yes Sir, I am." "My name is ________ ___________. We've never met before." Umm, check the mental status box "Sound". Smiling, I shake his hand with a measured firm handshake. "It's nice to meet you." I don't know WHY I'm meeting you, but so far okay. (We would later sit and, over coffee, reveal our earlier thoughts upon meeting.) I won't bore you with the details. It seems this person was referred to my Port by another friend (also not a member of this august body) because of something that I recently wrote. He wanted to tell me what he thought of my writing. After about five minutes in the boutique entryway, I told him that I was going to get some coffee. Would he care to join me? He would. To the utter amazement of the Greeters, we walked into their beloved boutique sans buggy. Well, at least now they would have something to occupy their time. "I would like to thank you for that piece you wrote about the Roman General!", He said to me as we sat, sipping coffee. He told me that he felt very close to Flavius. I was a bit stunned, because I happen to know that, until only a few days ago, "Flavius" did not exist! I thought this was a bit outside the normal stream of conversation. You must realize, that is a very wide stream in my world. When someone breaches the banks, I tend to notice. He spoke kindly of the little story, and gave me praise for having written it. I was, however, curious about the connection he found, and I asked him about it. "Why did the story speak to you in that way?" "Oh!", He said, laughing. "That's easy!" "I am, like Flavius, forgiven. But, unlike the General, I know it, I just don't live like it." "Your story", he continued, "reminded me of that very thing. I am tired of living as if I don't know how forgiven I am. I want the world to know that I am forgiven." Ya know that "deer in the headlights" kinda look? You know, like you see it, you know you're about to get hit with it, but you just can't move? Yeah, like that. I was suddenly remembering the words of Damirus Carbaugh, the fabulous singer and former soloist with the Brooklyn Tabernacle Choir. One of her songs that I just love is "He Is Faithful!" In her monologue preceding the performance of this piece, she tells of a time when she had an awakening while reading the Bible. She came to the Book of Acts, where it says "Your words honor me, but your heart is far from me." I took the next step with this new friend. I explained to him that I believed his was a really good idea: Live like you know just how forgiven you are. Never forget what it cost somebody else. Never take it for granted. Give away more forgiveness than you feel you have received. Keep it in your heart. Live it out, and pass it on. Do you know just how forgiven you are? Are you living like it? IS it in your heart? Or are you perhaps like Merlinus, a believer afraid in a world that could even kill you, just for showing how very forgiven you are? I know a lot of people who live like that. I've even seen buildings full of them on a Sunday morning, myself. Or, laying in a bed of death on a Cancer Ward. Where does your forgiveness show? Does your family know it? Do your children see it? Your co-workers? Your Boss? There are questions that truly matter in life. When life throws you a curve, and illness comes to visit, sometimes all the questions you believe have been answered may suddenly come back-to call on you again. Except now, they tend to throw in a zinger or several on you. "Are you certain?" "No matter what?" "If time really matters, do you have enough of it?" We parted company after only a short time. I got my evaluation from the boss. It may have been unforeseen on my part, but it had been scheduled well in advance. My slate is, by no means, clean. But, it is as clean as I can make it, for the moment. Right? Nope. My slate was wiped clean a very long time ago, and it was thrown so far away, as to be impossible to retrieve. And, somehow I seem to forget that from time to time. Do you? I need to be reminded from time to time just how forgiven I truly am. I wasn't saying those words just for the hearing of my new friend. I was trying to attach them to my wounded heart. And, in that time, for those moments, there were only three beings in that boutique. Two of them were human. Thanks, Dad. I needed that. I love You, too. Are you aware, I mean truly and painfully aware, of just how very forgiven you are? Are you living like it? Are you giving away more forgiveness than you have been given--even to yourself? Are you passing it on? For me, if it were not for this Holiday season, I couldn't do that. I am a believer, and I try to be a "Christ-follower". But, more than anything else, I just want to be one of Dad's kids, no matter what. It is unimportant, really, how upset I may get with the notion that there is no room for Christ in Christmas. There was no room for him at an Inn, either. The only room Dad wants is all the room in your heart--and mine. I was suddenly doing an inventory of empty space, and "non-Dad" space that this illness seem to be trying to take up. Some would say that there is no way that there could ever be room for Christ in the midst of the busiest shopping day in that store's season, either. Want to bet? On this journey, you get to measure in a very real way what matters. This is the time when you must stand for something--or fall for anything. Patients notice things like that, you see. So do those who love, and care for them. And, from what I've learned recently, so does Dad. This is His time, not mine. It's His. May you have a very merry Christmas. May you be richly blessed, indeed. In His Care, Budroe |
| You wanna know just how cool my Dad is? This morning: Fade from Black. I'm sore. I mean, sore like I was the day before "the event". Prickly pain in my lower right rear quadrant of my chest. You know, the scarey kind. The kind of pain you recognize--and you don't much like it. You remember what happened the last time, and it makes you just a bit nervous. Or, if you are me, totally freaked out. Mentally, I'm not up to snuff. Things are kinda cloudy. I'm told it is not much of a big deal--that it is to be expected! Yeah, by WHOM, precisely? Of course, they could just be saying that because it's, well, ME! I mean, after all.... I missed a rather important appointment this week. That is the second time that has happened. My Doctor is all over my butt about it. Yada, yada, yada. "We can fix it so you don't HAVE to remember appointments, Mister!" Yeah, so my emotional state, already lower than average, takes a direct hit in the Pride! That's it, pick on the patient! Go ahead, Doc, give 'er a rip! And, while yer at it, I've got a new concept for ya: "BITE ME!" Okay, well that's what I said, in my head! Hey, I've been married, okay. I know how the game is played. So after the "How in the hell do you STILL have meds to take? You shoulda been out a week ago!" conversation, which did NOT go well for yours truly, I'm feeling a bit less than chipper. Yeah, that's the ticket. Diplomatically stated, I believe. So the Doc sits me down in her private office (no exam room today for the "Dude!", you see). She has been parading me all around her office, introducing me to her patients as "The Dude! He's my best work so far!" Boy, is she gonna be torqued to the max when she finds out it wasn't just her. It makes me shudder just to think about it. I don't think I wanna see her any madder than she was today! It's like I'm messin' up her pretty paints, er sumthin', ya know? Yeah, you know. She throws a Blue-Blooded hissy! I take it--up to a point. In her office, she closes the door. "Okay, Bud. Tell me what's going on." So, I tell her. She doesn't like it. Umm, that's putting it reeeeeeely nice. She listens to my chest, and I'm pretty sure this time she isn't just playin' Doctor. She orders blood work. Lord have Mercy, this woman has a hematology fetish! Tons of blood work. She orders a Chest X-Ray, and MRI! And, just because she forgot, she orders MORE bloodwork! She stuffs a bag with drugs (samples) and fairly throws 'em at me. Then, she tells me ta get outa her office! She said she had SICK people ta see! Then, on the way out, she asks me what I'm doin' over the Holidays. I tell her not much. I am, however, planning a little non-gambling excursion to "The Boat" (Ceasar's Indiana) for my birthday. She says "Really? When's that?" I say, "Look it up, Dudette!" BAAAACK to her office we go, like there's blood seepin' outa my brain er sumthin'. She closes the door--again! "You're a New Year's Eve baby? She stutters in shock-ed amazement. "Yay, Lo, and many cattle." "Yep. Five minutes till midnite!" "You got reservations ON THE BOAT for New Year's Eve?" Well, I didn't think it quite ranked up there with rapin' yer puppy, but she sure seemed ta. "Umm, yes, just like every other year, Dudette. I got a room, and tickets for dinner, and the party, and..... "You got a SUITE?" I'm starting to think maybe I gotta find either a way out the back, or a really good Criminal Attorney. "OKAY, DUDE! Here's the deal." Deal? There's a deal? Oh, Monty, Monty, Monte. The Pressure! "You got tickets to the boat, AND a suite for the weekend. I wanna go to the boat. Shill over a ticket, or you are going to have an unplanned visit to my favorite Hospital!" See? You folks think I'm just makin' this stuff up, don't ya!! <sniffle> It's terrible, I tells ya! Evidently, she had been trying to get a room, and tickets to the party for about four months! Evidently, she had never learned that one of my friends happens to work at the Boat. Well, we haven't been what you'd call social, ya see. She's been busy savin' my behind, and I've been trying kinda hard to concentrate on not needing her to do it again! I've been busy! Sue me, Dudette! She care? Nope. She interested in negotiation? Umm, NOPE! I call my friend. She gets a room (surprise, surprise. They have NOT in fact, sold completely out, yet), saving a few for "special" guests. He comps her the room for the night, and throws in a couple tickets to the party/dinner and whatever. No biggie. To me. She (I swear!) squeals, jumpin' up and down, sayin' "DUDE! DUUUUUUDE! Awesome!" She runs out of the office, down the hallway clappin' her hands, scarin' people ta death, jumpin' up and down like a kid that just got a new tricycle er sumthin'! I came home with enough drugs to do me. For about forever! I made my Doctor happy. I got to go to the Hospital. I had bloodwork done. I had an X-Ray and an MRI. I go back to her office, where everybody over there now knows me on a first name basis. "Hi, Dude!" "Dude, man Doc is sure fired up over you!" On and on. It got plumb embarassin'. Tada!! When ya got it...ya usually don't know it. <sigh> What I got is two armloads of bandages, a sore chest, and some questions. She's still freakin' out. I'm waiting on the results from the MRI to get sent over to her. They come in. She calms really, rather, right on down. She has to pull herself together. She's on the phone talking to Dr. W., one of the Endo guys on my case. She calls a G/I guy. They chat. She hangs up the phone. "We need to get that Colonoscopy done right away, Bud." "Not before New Year's we ain't, Dudette." "I know. But right after, okay?" "How will I remember?" "Don't worry. I'll make sure you remember." "Yeah, that's what worries me!" "It should." "It does!" "Good!" "Fine!" Like I said, up to a point. So now, I walk out with medical records, enough drugs for the 82nd Airborne Division for a month, and umm, nine different appointments--all after January 2nd, 2007. She says I'm doin' okay, but she's worried about the blood clot. It seems to have grown and she can't figure out how that happened. Then, while the Diabetes is doing fine--mostly, the tumors are not behavin'. I'm bummed. I drop off a couple scrips at WalMartTRB's, and I'm swingin' through Chik-Filet (because that's just what ya have ta do after a meetin' like that!), and I get home. I'm feelin' right surely down-in-the-mouth about the entire affair. I got a Doc that's nuttier than a five-pound pack of pecans! I got a friend who wants to know "the skinny" on the gal with the tickets. (She and her significant other would LOVE to hear that!) I got a party that the whole world is gonna celebrate, but I might not get to. I got more pills to take, and more stuff in my head about tumors, and polyps, and blood clots, and some kinda bad memories of Hospitals. I'm pulling bandage tape offa me like somebody wrapped the house in it. I check my voicemail. Dr. W. has called and wants to do a "STAT" colonoscopy on the 30th! (Ain't happenin' Doc! I got a date wif a boat!) And, I'm suddenly thinkin' that right about now, I could use a hug. So! I crank up the 'puter. My start page on the Internet? WDC, of course. Well, isn't yours? And, guess what I find... I got a ton of email! Well, it's not Newsletter Day. What's up? And, I find a note from scarlett_o_h telling me that this little Blog has been awarded a prize. But not just A prize, mind you. THE prize. Blogger of the Month, for December! I got a spiffy new Merit Badge, and THEN I find out that it is voted on! By WDC members! YOU GUYS! And, all of a sudden, Yeah. I'm a bawlin' and asnottin' all over the place. Why? "He heard my complaint. He inclined unto me, and heard my complaint." My Dad had hugs waiting on me before I even went to the Doctor's Office this morning! What I don't know, and what YOU don't know, Dad knows. And, through you, I got more hugs than a body is legally allowed, and they are still comin'. Thank you so very much for recognizing this little Blog. Thank you for huggin' this little Blogger. But, more than all that, thank you so very much for being with me on this journey. These are not my words, you see. I am just 10 willing fingers. Because of your comments, hearts and lives are being changed every day. People are talking about a forbidden topic. A sense of reality is happening, and it's just not quite as scarey. You know, perhaps even better than I do just how scarey this journey can be. Many of you have been here before, as the patient. I mean, you are the Veterans of this journey. It is your willingness to share your terror, and your victory--and your sadness, too, that makes this more than just another boring Journal. It is alive with the hearts, souls, memories, and footsteps of many valiant people. THAT is what I celebrate. That is what my gratitude stems from. And, I gotta tell ya, that is just how very cool my Dad is. I am, and will forever be, In HIS Care, and yours. Budroe |
| I received this from one of my very dearest friends in my email today. This should give you some idea of the kind of friends I have. This lady just happens to be the wife of my old boss, the Installation Commander at FAMC. They are both treasures in my life. This is but one small example of why. Hi Everyone! It's that time of year again...I thought you'd appreciate the recipe for my annual "Tequila Christmas Cake". Everyone who has tried it absolutely LOVES it! Follow the recipe EXACTLY as it states for best results! ENJOY! Tequila Christmas Cake: 1 cup of water 1 tsp baking soda 1 cup of sugar 1 tsp salt 1 cup of brown sugar Lemon juice 4 large eggs Nuts 1 bottle tequila 2 cups of dried fruit Sample the tequila to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the tequila again. To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the tequila is still OK. Try another cup... just in case. Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Pick the frigging fruit up off floor. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a screwdriver. Sample the tequila to check for toxicity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or something. Check the tequila. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. No wait..shtrain the lemon juice and shift your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner!! Finally, throw the friggin' bowl through the window. Finish the tequila and wipe counter with the cat. Merry Christmas, everyone!! And, the fact is not stranger than fiction! I could see her doing it, in a minute! Of course, her hubby would be the taste-tester, and I would be the guest who would mutely observe! Yeah, RIGHT! :) Just getting a note from them brightens my heart, and makes my soul leap for joy! We share some amazing memories, especially of Christmas. It is nice to remember them. How can you not love Christmas around folks like these? Later on this week, I'd like to share our last Christmas Eve Service at FAMC with you. I think that you will get a much different "flavor" of these two. And, maybe others. In His Care, Budroe |
| Now, just so you know, I'm going to give a moment here for certain readers, who love to TORture their minds with possibilities. to calm down! No, I did not limbo with the entire female population of Guadelajara! Nor did I purchase a one-way Greyhound ticket to Havana! I didn't even win one free battery cap in the Lottery! I wrote. 2,972 original words! 2,972 non-Blog words, at that! That includes about 15 edits, too! I mean, YEAY, ME!!  My pal Kenzie had a posting up on one of the Forum boards about a contest. I liked the idea, so I wrote a short story. Once I re-read (for about the 3rd time!) the contest rules, I had to hurry back and do some severe editing on the story. It's a shame, too. The words would have just fit the characters SOOOO well! . The contest is here.
It doesn't end until January 15th, so if you are maybe interested in submitting either a short story or poem, I'm sure it would be appreciated. They need some entries! This is my entry. R/R/R are appreciated. Brutality optional.
When DebSey got me to bloggin', she never told me some stuff! I got a bunch of questions, and I don't know who to ask about 'em. Funny, I can't find her blog!! <Well, Deb. At least I wrap the Sledge Hammer in Toilet paper before I swing it!> I'm not sure about the rules of etiquette for blogging here. I know that there have been tons of comments to my little Blog, and I'm certainly appreciative of the fact that anyone would take a moment out of their day to read and respond to the writing here. It does so much for me that I can't tell ya. But, more importantly, it has expanded the Blog in a way that I never expected. I'm so grateful for that. I purposely do not respond, in the Blog comments (usually, anyway) because I don't want to gunk it up with my stuff. Sometimes I will email a response to a comment, if it strikes me in a special way. But, many of the comments to the Blog speak for themselves, and I'm thinking that is just dandy! Q. Am I supposed to reply to every comment, as a point of courtesy? I don't really know. I've never had to worry about such things as this before. Call me ignorant. (Not stupid!) I also have read most (if not all) of the Blogs of those members who have left their kind comments on mine. I have discovered for myself some totally amazing writers at WDC through this little Blog. I sometimes leave "a footprint", just to let someone know that I visited. I know how much I appreciate it when someone does that for me. It really doesn't even matter so much that you have something profoundly good to say, just that you let me know you stopped by. That isn't really fair to say, however. To me, the comments you leave are what make this particular Blog so amazing! It's like, I write about something, and all of a sudden, I'm learning about it from all different perspectives. The stories you guys and gals share here are just incredible. They are also incredibly important, I believe. I know they sure do make this Blog a nice read for me, anyway. Or, is it just me? Q. Are you supposed to return visit-for-visit to every comment? Is it bad form not to, even if (presuming that person HAS a Blog) they have not written an entry since your last visit/comment? Look, I know to some this could sound anal. Fine. But, can you point me to a place that has such points of gentility as this in print? If you can, I'll stop askin', okay? To many of the folks who have joined me on the journey, and for reasons which I fully accept (which does NOT mean I'm gonna quit harpin'), there is no Blog to respond to. I have no problem with emails in reply to comments and/or reviews (which I DO so appreciate, by the way!), but I'm wonderin' if that's good etiquette or not. How do I know if I'm being a good citizen of the Blogosphere otherwise? Is there a Sheriff runnin' around here somewhere, handing out felony Blog citations?? Q. What is the best way to respond to comments to visitors who have no Blog? Should I respond to their comment inside the entry where their comment is, with a comment of my own? Should I email them? Are you folks getting upset because you do not see the responses I make to others? Is this bad form? Again, I don't know. I freely admit it. I'm a Newbie! (And I'll stick to that story as long as it doesn't get me thrown in WDC Jail!!) I began a list of Blogs on the left side of my Blog. On the one hand, I'm almost out of space to put new Blogs. This is a bad thing. New visitors join the journey almost daily, thanks to the kindness of you folks (and I do appreciate your confidence in my alleged writing ability!). There are some really amazing Blogs here. I want to follow them, and I want to follow them well. I want to be a good little Blogger-person-thingey. But nobody's tellin' the rules!! With even only 25 Blogs to watch, it can get to be a nightmare. Now, you must understand. I admit that I have more hours in a day to follow, write, and respond to good writing. Okay, we got that covered. However, I don't know what to do with the other Blogs that I want to follow, and/or recommend to you guys. I'm thinking about creating an item that is just a list of the Blogs I wish to follow. Q. What do you do when you run out of space to manage the Blogs you watch? Ideas are appreciated. Results may vary depending upon usage, dosage, and other natural body functions. If you have any of the above-listed contra-indications, please see your Doctor immediately. Do not operate heavy machinery while reading this Blog!! And, another thing!! Q. What's the difference between a "Black" Blog that I'm watching, and a "Blue" Blog title? Huh? Can somebody tell me that one? I'm thinking it's something like somebody has updated their Blog with a new entry, and I'm supposed to read it or something. I don't know. One of the kindest things that you have done for me, and this little blog, has been to review and reward it with GP. I have, on several occasions failed to notice that the GP's have been awarded because I am so totally floored by the reviews. Now, that should not discourage the awarding of GP's, neighbors! Nor should you feel the necessity to stop reviewing the Blog. But, this whole thing with GP's is kinda makin' me crazy! I get a Review, and it has GP's attached. Let's presume, just for the moment, that I am lucid enough to realize this, and send an email appropriately thanking the reviewer for their kind words. (No matter which kind they may be!) Q. Is it just plain old bad form to reply to a GP award with GP's of my own? I got into a nasty GP battle once, and was soundly trounced! I felt like the Polish Army against Germany--fightin' tanks and Stukas with a slingshot! I finally waved a white flag. I wasn't trying to "out-give" someone or anything. And, besides, it was with a dear friend, and we have a lot of fun doing such silliness. But, the question of etiquette remains. Is "Thank you!" enough? I believe that a Review received is a Review owed. I am terribly behind on that score, and offer my sincerest apologies to anyone who has reviewed my work without a return Review as a result. I have them all, and they will, repeat will be forthcoming--at some point before the turn of the Century! I SWARE! <looks humbly towards feet!) I guess that's where all this started for me. I got so taken by your kindness, and your dedication to my journey, I am not sure just how to respond. I've no doubt made some errors of grace, and for that I ask your forgiveness. I apologize if, by my ignorance, someone has had their feelings hurt, or made to feel less than treasured by this writer. Nothing could be further from the truth! But, you see, with the time I have to give to the writing, it really doesn't take but a couple of other really good Blogs to get the whole shebang rollin'. Then, there's the groups that I belong to that I do so really and truly love. I love reviewing, and used to do several every day. I will get back to that. In fact, I did my first review since October 29th today. It was a doozy, too, y'all! It wasn't my usual format, and only went about 300 words. No matter. It was a review! It was nice to be in that mode of operation again. And, lookit! I wrote original words today, for the first time in ages!! YAY!! I've got more questions, but I'll wait until I can sort them out just a little in my head first. And, you can believe me when I tell ya, that's enough ambition for anybody! |
| I had a really nice visit with my friends from Western Kentucky yesterday. I was being a really good boy all day (No, REALLY!), and had no difficulties as a result. I got some good rest the previous night, took my meds, ate my pills, cooked my meals, and everything worked out just peachy. One of the surprises (besides the visit) was that Isaac had stored some of my things at his Mom's house when I moved from Kentucky to Indiana in 1999. I got some of those things yesterday. Of the many special treasures I received, though, were two that I thought I would tell you about, briefly. They have made a little difference at my house. My mother's only surviving sibling, my Aunt, is beginning her transition. She has been, twice, a cancer survivor. She has been visited yet again, and has Leukemia and Heart Disease as well. She is an older lady (well, older than me, if you can believe that!) who has lived life exceptionally well. She has always been a favorite in my family, and I love her very much. She is in Hampton, Virginia, and there are many times when I just wish I could touch her. She has not (so far as I am aware) learned of my recent medical journey. It seems unnecessarily cruel to break this news to her, and especially now. Would she handle it? Certainly! She IS the rock! Should she have to? I think not. She has seen her double-portion of sadness in this life, and is truly struggling every day. My cousin is providing her care, with assistance from Hospice, while working full-time. My cousin is one of the most amazing humans I have ever known. I would like to tell you about her sometime. One of the two treasures which I received yesterday was a full portait-sized photo of my Aunt and Uncle, taken upon the occasion of their 65th wedding anniversary. My Uncle moved to Heaven several years ago. The amazing thing of this photo is that it must have been somehow imprinted upon my brain from all the days of my having seen it. It now resides in its usual place, just above my bedroom light switch. I get to tell them "Good Night!" and "Good Morning!" every day. It makes me feel better, somehow, to begin and end each visible part of my every day with those two smiles of Peace looking at me. The other, and most beloved treasure requires a story. It is one that I am very proud to tell. The year is 1940. War is raging in Europe, and the Pacific is only one kilowatt from ignition. The nation has struggled to attempt to recover from the Depression, but has not yet found its new economic legs. Things are hard in America, but not as hard as it has been. Willkie is running for President. Business is in a quandry, as the United States Department of War suddenly begins placing impossibly large orders for munitions, armament, and supplies--even while 8,000,000 Americans remain out of work. Muzak is born, as are Nylon Pantie Hose. The "freeze-dried" process, created by the Maxim company, makes its commercial debut. Business has been invaded by the Government, and no one seems particularly pleased about it. "Pal Joey", and "Be My Sunshine" are familiar new music to the American people. And, at the University of Kentucky, Seniors are preparing to graduate and enter an uncertain world. There is a national essay-writing contest, sponsored by the Algernon Sydney Sullivan Committee out of New York City. Exclusively offered only to Senior college students of Journalism, the Award is the standard of excellence in writing. One lucky student will receive a cash prize, a framed Award Certificate, and immediate national recognition. One single student from UK decides to enter the contest, whose subject for this year is: "Democracy, and what it means to me". A small, frail thing, standing only about 5'5", and weighing no more than 95 pounds "soaking wet", Martha W. Barton spends more than three months crafting 1,000 words. Every available moment is given to "the hope" for her future education. She hopes that, should she be among the top 50 contestants from across the nation, she might make the Awards List. This would help her immensely in her imminent job-hunting tasks. Having been a Linotypist for all of her four years at UK, Martha has shown skill, and determination. But, her ambition was to write. Little did she know just what a writer she would turn out be. For over a month, she slaved on just one paragraph of her contest entry: the last one. Finally, with the deadline for mailing only one day away, she shook as she delivered the completed work to the Post Office. It would take nearly two months of waiting to finally hear of the winners of this most prestigious contest. On May 5th, 1940, The Sullivan Committee mailed a single page notification to the student, who was studying for her final examinations, to receive her degree in Journalism at UK. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Martha W. Barton had won the contest! She was "cordially invited" to an awards dinner and ceremony in New York City to receive her prize, and her award. Unfortunately, the award ceremony was scheduled to take place the evening before her graduation ceremony in Lexington, Kentucky. In deference to her priorities, the Committee moved the Awards Ceremony two weeks. She attended and came home with cash, and The Sullivan Award of 1940. Since 1947, multiple awards have been given to outstanding students graduating from over 25 Southern Colleges and Universities. From 1925-1945, however, there was one national, or overall winner selected from among the winners of each participating school. Photos are courtesy of the Foundation. Mother's medal was, unfortunately, destroyed in the "Flood of '57'. It also took our home. Losing our home didn't phase her one bit. Losing the physical award, however, broke her heart. That gives, for me at least, more significance to the Award Certificate which now hangs in my home. Although I am the last surviving child, I am trying to get the medal replaced by a most helpful foundation. It would be nice to have. I would like to give it to the Northern Kentucky Historical Museum, in Erlanger, Ky., which features a significant display honoring my Grandfather (Papaw), Winfield Scott "Dink" Barton. We'll see. Her final paragraph? "Therefore democracy is not something given, but rather it is something earned by each citizen, one good deed at a time. So ask not what your country can do for you. Ask what you can do for your country. This is what democracy means to me." ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** She would, in only eight months, marry Merlin Blair Fields at her home in Erlanger, Kentucky. They would return to his home in the mountains of Eastern Kentucky, and raise a family. M. B. "Tug" Fields would graduate from UK Law during the same ceremony Martha would graduate with a B.A. in Journalism, with the highest grade point average ever awarded a student. Their last child would be born 2.5 months premature, and given no hope for surviving his first day of life. His name was M. B. "Bud" Fields, Jr. I have, finally, gotten the Sullivan Award Certificate (and letter) hanging again in its rightful place: over the desk of a writer. It inspires me, as it should. But, it also gives me great comfort to know that, although Cancer cut very short this amazing woman's life, she contributed a little to her craft, much to her nation, and everything which has ever really mattered to one child so small, they called him "Buddy" after George Gobel's little, tiny invisible friend character on his radio show. Before they could sign his Birth Certificate, they had to given directions for which funeral home should be called to come pick up his tiny body. Unable to believe in herself as a winner, she refused to stop believing in a 2.2 pound bundle of fragile life. Personally, I feel that she still believes. I know I do. And, sometimes that may be only a little difference. But, that little difference can make all the difference in the world. |
| OMG! Just LOOK at this little house! ACCCKKKK! Friends bring me joy. Usually, this one brings it by the truckload! As it happens, this particular friend is the Mother of my very best friend in the world. She may bring her youngest son with her today. He and I have a special relationship, too. He is very, WAY, into big trucks. Several years ago, he got to be in mine! Ah, yes, we DO remember the day we get our God-hood! At least for this little guy, anyway! Oh yeah, and for her youngest son, too!  I got to know her, interestingly enough, through her husband. I met my friend's Dad one quite conspicuous day, at a JAIL! We met to bail my friend out of jail. Yes, it's true. These were some (Oh, come ON! At least ACT surprised!) very strange and intrigueing circumstances that found my best friend in jail, while the actual perpetrator of the crime was standing outside the Jail laughin' about it. Some things you just don't forget--especially as a person "Of the Hill People!". Bless her little, and I DO mean little, heart! This was a domestic abuse case, and my friend was the victim. I will publicly admit here that I had very rarely SOOO wanted to extend, to anyone, the left foot of fellowship as I did that day! Go figger! I had the occasion to speak with his Mom once online, and it took off from there. We attended an online Bible Study together, and our friendship cemented. She is a natural Warrior, and has been fighting many difficult battles of her own in the recent past. I think she even stops by here and reads every once in a while--I hope so! She has become a special friend, obvously for many reasons. Not only is her oldest son my dearest, and best friend on this or any other planet, but I have been involuntarily adopted into the family, as well. That has happened to me a few times before, and it is always fun! Of course, it's me we are talking about, so things sometimes get "interesting". <Insert evil smirk here> She lives quite a distance from me (157.45 miles, actually). I believe she actually is coming to the Louisville area to do some necessary shopping for the season, and I get the bonus prize. I'll take it! If I find out it's the other way around, I will be upset with her--but only till I see my little guy running to hug me! Her husband is a Charge RN on a Cardiac Surgery Floor at the local hospital. He and I have much in common in that regard. She has always been a "stay-at-home" Mom, and as a domestic engineer she is without equal! Their family is vibrant, and rambunctious. They have had many difficulties, but have weathered them together. They will have more, I am certain. There's just too many divergent personalities in that crowd for peace to exist--for long. Add me to the mix, and you get chaos, punctuated occasionally with terror! It will be good to see them. I hope they can forgive a single guy for his less-than-stellar housekeeping skills. Man, this was NOT the weekend to give the Maid, the Cook, the Butler AND the Gardener off! I am what I am. I live as I live. Welcome to it. Because today is Saturday, I also must visit the Hospital and get the bloodwork done. Dracula MUST be fed! Evidently, my blood type is so very rare (Yeah, right! A Pos--only the MOST common bloodtype there is!) that they need some every 7 days, or something drastic might happen. Far be it from me to cause the destruction of peace on the planet! See? It invades everything! That's just part of the journey. But, you can believe me when I tell you that patients notice such things as these. |
| I have made it through (with extremely limited success) the list of tasks which faced me on Monday morning. Some of them are unfinished, and a couple of them have me quite concerned. Because of the realities that terminally ill patients must go through, I thought I would share just one of them with you, for your considered opinons matter much. But then, I decided not to. I will, just not right now. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's life and work have been on my mind of late. Specifically I have been dealing with a "friend" who nearly violently disagrees with her thesis, and completely discounts her work. I can understand why he would do this. I empathise with much of what he says, and I do not feel that she was the final authority on anything. Yet, much of the work she accomplished is vitally important, and available to Cancer patients every day of our lives. Studying these contrasting views brought me to a place that I evidenty very much needed to be. That (at least) five disctinctive emotional realities will have their place on this journey is something I am perfectly willing to incude as a part of the process. I just happen to see this Blog as being "organized" a little bit differently. How does that matter to EKR? Well, I'm not really "testing" her hypotheses. I am just going to see how this real and personal journey compares to them, that's all. I want to journal the path of Cancer in the life of the patient, those around the patient, and those who, from outside the illness, become a part of it. I started doing that very basically with the first entries. So far, we have gone through the hospitalization events, and "getting" Cancer. We haven't talked much, but some, about what happens to the people in, and around the illness as it begins its reality in the lives of those it affects. To receive a terminal diagnosis is a scarey thing, and we really haven't much talked about that--the understanding, the struggling, the avoidance, the negotiation, the anger, the sadness, and the acceptance of Cancer's reality. I hope to see, as we proceed on down the path, where (if at all) these or other emotional realities show up. It's my way to provide "anecdotal research" (can you say oxymoron?) that may not win a Nobel Prize. But, it may help someone else in a valuable, and personal way somewhere down the road. We have been so bold as to mention, and even discuss--death. I think this is just tremendous, for all concerned. We have tried, together, to put on paper some idea of what death is, what it is about, and what it is even like. There is a necessary component of that discussion from the very beginning of the journey, because it seems for some reason (not always true) that Cancer and Death are synonymous. Dying with the disease will just have to wait a while. I'm not yet, and I'm surely not ready to write about that yet. Call me yella! But, I'm promising you I'm not yella. I'm just not in that frame of mind yet. One of the things that I DO belive EKR did in her work was to bring some very antiquated thoughts ABOUT death into the light of public comment. Just trying to talk about death was a taboo of the highest order just as recently as the 1960's. From her work, and subsequent "Workshops", the world (and especially the United States community of medical professionals, for instance) began considering death as a natural process (how's that for legendary ground-breakin'!). The entire Hospice movement can, like it or not, point to EKR's work as the first stone on the foundation of the entire Hospice movement here. I think she does deserve credit for that. We've looked at the originating event. Every patient who ever got a diagnosis of Cancer has one, no matter how distantly related the "event" is to the diagnosis. This is usually the first story patients tell about their journey, I have found. It is also one of their favorite stories to tell, surprisingly enough. They point to it fondly, and relate with enthusiasm and gusto (in time) all about the day their world changed. It's the last "normal" memory most Cancer patients have. It also marks the very first step on this particular journey which we are now sharing. Because of the way my particular journey began, we looked at the hospitalizaton, and the tests, and the environment and the people of Cancer within the Medical community. People, more often than not, do not receive their original diagnosis IN the hospital. They usually get a telephone call, say about Supper time, from a seriously-voiced Physician who refuses to discuss anything with you on the phone. He just needs to see you immediately. And, you probably should bring a toothbrush when you see him next. We've looked at getting the diagnosis. We've looked at trying to wrap your brain around the diagnosis. We've looked a little at how others are affected, and how they affect the patient as the journey begins. So we have The Diagnosis of Cancer, The Words of Cancer, The Fears Associated with Cancer (and the Cancer Patient), and Dying from Cancer. These seem to me to be, should anyone ever dare get so inclined, natural book divisions. None of them is complete yet. Of that I am certain. There is, however, a natural division that I want to at least start. You have Cancer. You are dying from Cancer. How about how I'm living with Cancer? I mean, it has been since October 28th, after all. I received my diagnosis of Cancer on November 16th, 2006. (No Cancer patient will EVER forget the day their journey begins!) That's a bunch of days that got fully lived. But, in the writing life, that becomes, no matter how significant, just backstory. How does the patient that "gets" Cancer absorb all that goes into that, and still live a good quality life in the process? As we learn, together, the "Ins and Outs" of the disease, I really hope the most written topics of this journey will be about living. Living with Cancer has measurements that mean much to all concerned. "Quality" versus Quantity of living is THE major consideration, as I am certain many of you know. The quality of my life, since coming home, has been totally schizoid. I do wonder if it is like that with every patient. I see these as boxes the Cancer patient lives within, moving, ad hoc, ad infinitum from one to another--and back as the journey plays itself out. But, there IS a lot to be said about living with Cancer. I'd like to get to that part. I'm not there, yet. Tests, Doctor's appointments and decisions based on some numbers that I cannot possibly control are still before me, and that makes me unsettled. I still have to get confirmation of several things, even as I struggle here at home to do "the plan". I'm not complaining, folks. I'm living with Cancer. Perhaps, it's not the rosy picture of living in La Jolla, docked at the pier on the Yacht "having a few (hundred) friends over for cocktails as the Jazz Combo plays 'Take Five!' on the Poop Deck", but it is my life! I want to live everyday to the fullest, whatever that may be. So far, I haven't been. Adjusting, getting used to, discovering, learning, getting "educated", and learing new people that are very important to the walk are all part of the living that I have been doing with Cancer. And the very first place Cancer invaded my life after it invaded my body? My appointment book! LOR-DEE! My Outlook Calendar has all but gone on strike! The disease has moved into my house, my bedroom (where DOES one put a durned Oxygen tank, anyway? Do you knit a cozy for it?), and my medicine cabinet isn't, any more. Now it's a medicine closet! Let's not even talk about my kitchen! I have even made a purposeful decision that no part or reminder of this disease will be seen or felt in my study. I will have one Cancer-Free Zone in my existence!! I also try to keep any evidence (as much as I can, anyway) of the disease, or my status as a patient, out of the "common" areas of my little house. My living room and dining areas do not have signs in neon, for instance. This disease may infiltrate every moment of my life, but it will, by Golly, keep it's place! I hope. I'm just not sure how to begin THAT part. Should I work on the quantity, or the quality of life with Cancer? I am just not sure, but I can tell you with certaintly, I am wanting to work on one of 'em. I'm feelin' a need for some serious joy right now, and that has always come from helping someone else, and not concentrating on ME. I do truly HATE it when it is about me. Joy in my life has always come through service to others. Music, ministry, nursing, and writing all share that same quality. Speaking of writing, I have had the wonderful joy of writing this Blog, and these words. I find that kind of a two-edged sword. The subject is intensely personal--and not just for the writer. The readers of these words have astounded me with their willingness to "pony up" the ultimate personal reflections on these ill-formed words that I call my Blog. But, the joy comes from the words--even words of tears. We are talking. What more could words ever hope to accomplish? And, what words are more important to talk about? My "other" writing is on the back burner at the moment. I wrote a list in my writing Blog the other day, and gave myself a kind of "status report" on my other writing. If I were employed to do it, I would be fired! Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for my Editor (who, so far as I know, has not seen one word of this Blog yet--surely you understand why!), I am a benevolent boss. I will get back to writing the fiction, and the reviews, and the other things that I have on my list of writing to do. I love this writing. I am a writer. Writers write, every day! Right, Uncle Jim? Working out a knot in a mystery is something I look forward to again, soon. But suddenly, this little blog seems to be the most significant writing I could be doing. Go figger! Maybe over the weekend, I'll find what it is that my brain is telling me, and I will know where to go next. What do you think? What would you like to be commenting on/about here? Maybe that would unstick my stubbornness. You just never know. It's kind of surprising to find myself at this particular intersection. I never saw it coming. |
| Maybe, maybe not. Let's sit down here and talk about that for a minute. I need to check under the Message stone, anyway. Now, this may apply to you or it may not. It really just depends. If you want to know the answer to that question, look down. If you see a belly button, then it applies to you. Otherwise you're off the hook. The only thing that truly changes about the life of a newly diagnosed Cancer patient is--everything. Much of their outward response to situations and/or circumstance is driven purely by adrenaline. That, like it or not, feeds the response they get to pretty much everything. Then, of course, there is the drug pendulum, which can cause or result in every possible emotion on the map. Because you have this disease does NOT give you some inalienable right to become a bitter, angry monster. It's not some kind of permission slip that comes with the diagnosis, ya know. "If you had this, you would understand!" "I can't help it!" "I WOULD do it for myself if I could, wingnut!" "I don't know, my head is all foggy. You decide, and I'll do whatever you say!" (Of course, whatever they say will be the very LAST thing you do voluntarily. Who do they think they are to boss you around, after all?!?!) (Yelling into ozone, for whoever hears it to be blessed) "It's 0810!! I need my breakfast. I'm Diabetic, you know!" "Hello, is anybody here?" (Or, in the very worst scenario, ringing the bell. This is, perhaps, the very worst idea ever put together with ANY patient. Do NOT give the patient a Bell--EVER!) "Is that for me?" (To every ring of the phone!) "I have to be at the Doctor's in two hours. Don't forget!" (For the 23rd time in the last hour. Considerations of cork and gag have been contemplated on your behalf!) (Whispered phone conversation between patient and best friend, in confidence, which everyone in the house can hear) "I tell you the truth, sometimes I think they are trying to kill me." And then of course, there is the "Ace In The Hole". It's usually some variant/form of "Well, maybe it would just be easier if I died!" Meanwhile, over somewhere behind the family/care-giver's brain: "What do you MEAN your not hungry? I just spent xx hours preparing this beautiful meal for you! Try and eat just a little, won't you?" (Or my feelings are going to be crushed, and I won't let you forget it for a decade or two!") "Oh, (friend's name here) I would love to go out to lunch with you on Saturday. God knows I could use a break. But, with (patient's name here) and all, I just can't." "No, I'll do it. You know (patient) will only X if I am here. <Deep Sigh>" "It's a twenty-four hour thing with you, isn't it ? (Spoken to patient) How about gettin off my back for an hour or two, and go ride someone else for a while?" {Setting down, with just a little too much force, the food tray) "Here's your dinner!" (You leave.) Or trumping patient pulling the Ace: "I wish you'd just die and get it over with, so we could get back to our lives around here!" And, as surely as you, with all your self-righteous indignation come screaming into my face, or this Blog, telling me how that would NEVER happen in your case--Yes, it will! And, umm, yes YOU will, too! How do I know? You gottem belly buckon? In fact, I would be willing to bet that there are many, many moments in the lives of some who will read these words, and feel pain--a LOT of pain. They could tell you situations that make these look like a discussion of poetry for the undwater basket weaver! The patient, the family, care-givers, and people you'd just never imagine will experience moments just such as this--and much worse. This journey is a very difficult one. But, those feelings are just like life in a way. It's not what you get, or feel that matters. {b}It's what you do with what you get (or feel) that matters.{/b} If you happen to be one of those people who let their first thought be birthed as they exit your mouth, this is going to be a most difficult challenge for you. If you are one of those who "stuff", or compartmentalize your emotions, you are going to explode at some point. There are warning signs that you can read. There are clear signals that a meltdown is approaching. The patient may not be able to escape to a happy place to consider the reality of their feelings. They may not be able to get out of bed! Cancer is a twenty-four hour proposition, that is true for everyone who it touches. That is one of the things you will quickly learn if you are ever called to take this journey. You just aren't going to be able to get away from it, in the truest words. But you can step away from it for a little bit. If there is one thing that I want this Blog to be, it's honest. It's not all darkness and fear. Life still happens--every day. Housework still has to be done, and you have to eat, and rest. Even as the Primary Care Giver, you are not on 24/7 duty, you know. Respite care is available. So are Hospice workers, Chaplains, Social Workers, your friends and your own individual support community outside the disease. Martyrdom just doesn't wear well. Don't try to put it on. Those who care for the Cancer patient must learn how to care for themselves in this condition. This can be a very long journey. You will see places you never knew existed, say things you never believed you would say, and do things you had no idea it was possible to do. Many of those will hurt, embarass, and humiliate you. Get ready for it, and create a backup plan before it happens. Honestly discuss the one "small" thing that is nagging at you while it is still small, and get it over with. It really is important. And, if it's a problem that is just buggin' ya to distraction, for goodness' sake, take it out of the illness! Telling your spouse how tired of all this you are doesn't do anything for either of you--that is helpful, that is. It winds up just adding burden. There are tons of options available to you for the help you need. And, we all need help on this journey. Dealing with hard feelings is not a fun thing, nor an easy thing to do well. Even having them can be a disappointing reality for you, regardless of your position on this journey. If you are a patient that just doesn't want to know anything, you had best get over it--quickly! With a few exceptions, it is your responsibility to be "driving the boat" on this journey. You must not willingly abdicate that responsibility, nor should you. Be honest with your condition. Be honest with your givers of care. And, above all, be honest with yourself. That doesn't, by proxy, mean overbearing, helpless, whiney, or dour. It means honest. It allows others who love you so very much that they are putting their lives on hold, just for you, to honestly experience, and process, some really radically bad feelings, too. Having such feelings is not a bad thing. How you choose to deal with them can, however, bring destruction in mammoth proportions. Honest, caring communication is imperative on this journey. I don't like big problems. I get a kick out of decimating little ones. Big problems have big price tags attached to them. Little problems are usually free. It may well be the case that this new communication paradigm is so new for your family as to be foreign. So? Get over it. You'd be surprised at how much hurt has been stored up in one life. You'll find every dark corner of your life during this journey, friend. If you cannot, or will not honestly address them, things are just going to be unnecessarily more difficult for you. And, don't bring missing that ballgame back in '67 into a problem that happened ten minutes ago, either. That's called sniping, and it's not fair to anyone. If you have held a resentment since 1967, I don't care WHO is at fault. Interesting choice. Deal with it somewhere outside the illness, but DEAL with it! The patient has no place in it, can do nothing about it, save apologize for it, or deny it. Neither patients, nor their families, are punching bags during this journey. And, I mean emotional, mental, spiritual, financial, or health punching bags. What may have been "fair play" in your family dynamic forever may well be "off limits" now. These are just some of the changes that this journey will cause within your environment. I am hoping this will just get you thinking about them. This particular dynamic has been, singly, the most difficult and most damaging aspect of living with Cancer. Strangely enough, it has virtually nothing to do with death, grief, or dying. It has everything to do with LIVING within this disease. Because, like it or not, it might take a long, long time for this disease to leave your body, or the home of your loved ones. We need to concentrate on how to live with this disease, too. I hope this helps. |
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