Omar

This morning, I hopped on over to MD Anderson, bright and early, to get the results of yesterday's scan.

I went through the typical two nurses, one to weigh me and slap me with the blood pressure cuff, and the other to ask me all kinds of awkward questions about my bowel functions, (good news: I have zero qualms about talking 'poop'), and then my dreamy doctor came in.

AKA: The Future Mr. Laurie Evans.
AKA: The #1 Oncologist of All Time
AKA: Dr. H

So, Dr. H came in, sat down on his rolly chair and asked how I was feeling. "Fine", I told him. "Really?", he asked. "Yeah", I answered,  "But you want to know what would make me even better? ... Tell me there's something on that stupid CT that is going to merit further testing, so my insurance company will have to suck it up and pay out. Big."

"Seriously?", he asked.

"Seriously!", I answered.

Leaning back in his chair, Dr. H smiled wide and said, "In that case... Good news."

At which point, I threw my head back and laughed. Maniacally.

Because isn't that what a girl's supposed to do when she learns she's unwittingly grown tumor #5?

Anyhoo... it appears that I have a new little friend. (Again.) He's roughly the size of a golf ball and is located in my lower left quadrant. (Not quite in the same place as my first three tumors, but close.) I've named him Omar the Tu-mar. (Because I am hilarious. ... Also, maybe a little bit insane.)

Meet Omar. 

He's the 41.59 mm growth along the far right side in this pic.

Dr. G wants to do surgery on June 19th. (I argued for mid-July so I could go home for the 4th and follow the anvil around town, but no dice. Something about how it appears that Omar is wrapped up in my small intestine, and with the rate two of my four prior tumors have grown.... well, it could get messy. Messier than it already is, if you could imagine that. So, surgery is sooner, rather than later.)

While G's in there, retrieving Omar, he's going to also deal with the Henries. (Plural, because that fool went ahead and multiplied. In my body. Without my consent.) What was once ONE hernia near my belly button is now three fairly large hernias along my surgical line, and a few more weak spots in my belly. Per Dr. G, I now have what is called "Swiss Cheese". Awesome. Thanks, for that, Hen.

And speaking of *Henri

All that floating white matter? Bowels. That's right. BOWELS. That are (barely) being held in by my skin. - They should be behind a muscle wall (if I had such a thing), where all my other organs live.

Dr. G's going to attempt a mesh patch separately with the three big hernias. I'm not entirely sure how that's going to work, but the man has already saved my life once, so I'm gonna let him do it again, and if he wants to throw some mesh in there while he's at it... Go crazy, dude!

A lot of people are asking how I'm feeling (and how in the world  I'm smiling). I'm feeling alright. Tired, as per the usual. But also grateful that now I have an answer as to why I've been so tired the last few months. (Growing cancer wears a girl out. For real!)

I'll be out of work for 4-6 weeks, with no income whatsoever. (Do I have short-term disability insurance? Yes. Will it cover the cancer? No, because I've been on a treatment plan - they call semi-annual scans a treatment plan - so the cancer is excluded as a pre-existing condition.) 

I'm so grateful that I have no debt. Still, I pay so much for my routine medical stuff that I have no savings. I'm not sure how I'm going to pay my rent, let alone my medical costs. (Ha!) That being said, the Cancer Girl Donation Button is still at the top right corner of the blog. (If you're on a phone and can't see the PayPal button, scroll down and select "view web version". It'll pop right up.) If you have $2, $20, $200, or $2,000 you can spare, I promise to tear up in gratitude upon receipt of the email notification, and then send you a hand-written Thank You card the likes of which you've never seen. 

Here we go again. I'm tired of this surgical routine, but I'm also resigned to it. (I mean, when the alternative of surgery is growing a watermelon-sized tumor that will eventually choke the life out of you, you wrap your head around major surgery. Real quick.) I am grateful that I got almost two whole years between surgeries this time. 

As always, I am grateful for all of the amazing people in my life. I don't know what I ever did to deserve, like, seven of you... but it turns out I have hundreds of people out there who have been reading this silly blog and supporting me through my Cancer Girl Struggles since 2010. Thank you. To each and every person reading this, thank you.

While I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to do this, I know that I will be able to do this. And I know that, in large part, I'll be able to do this because so many of YOU are out there are praying and pulling for me. From the bottom of my overflowing heart, and with so much love that I can hardly breathe, I thank you.

*Henri is the French spelling of Henry. As the Swiss speak French, I thought it was only appropriate to change the spelling of that fool hernia's name, since he's gone all "Swiss Cheese" on me.

You may or may not have noticed...

...that my little corner of the www has been dark for the last, oh... month or so.

It's because I'm a slacker.

It's true. I am.

Also, in my defense, Judy came down for, like, ten days. It was glorious. We read books and watched movies. (Have YOU ever seen Mary Poppins with pop-ups? If not, you MUST get a hold of a 50th anniversary edition of the movie so you can get the extras!) We sat around and chatted, and made ourselves laugh out loud. For hours on end. Mom made rolls - twice, and I made chocolate chip cookies from a mix that weren't very good, but we ate them all anyway.

But mostly, I've just been a slacker.

It's because my internet connection is spotty and I have to unplug/replug my router every time I have to get online. And I have to bend over - almost to the ground - to do that. And Henry does NOT like it when I bend over.

So I've been neglecting the blog. Because I don't want to bend over and hurt my belly.

I live such a glamorous life, I know.

Anyhoo... here's the update: There isn't much to know, other than it's Scan Week, which means I've been on-again-off-again crying my eyes out and/or going off on RANTS about tiny, little, things that have been setting me off, both of which are pretty par for the course when I'm on the final, five-day, countdown.

As of now, the scan is set for tomorrow (I say, "as of now", because there has been some negotiating between my beloved Dr. H and my not-so-beloved insurance company... again), and I'll get the results Friday morning. Stay tuned for news on how much Henry and the Tootsie Roll have grown. (I'm hoping I'll be able to get some sweet pics of my guts on Friday. ... Not to be sacrilegious, but ... maybe if we all join in prayer together, I'll get a look at the films this time? It's worth a shot, I figure.)

The #1 Mom

Today, I am grateful for the woman who invented me.

Biologically, she gave me:

My curly hairs

My big eyes

My strong nails

My crazy laugh

My crooked teeth

By example, she taught me:

To accept myself as I am

To choose happiness

To love people as they are
To play with children

That's it's okay to laugh OUT LOUD

I see my mom in the way that I hold a newborn baby, and in how I wash dishes and then set them on the stove to dry. I hear her laugh when I laugh, and every once in a while, I'm lucky enough to hear her when I'm singing.

As grateful as I am that Judy is my mom, I'm even more grateful that she's my friend. Every day, I am grateful.

Thanks, Mom. For everything. I love you.

Today was the day.

The day that I vowed to never wear a skirt (or pants - or anything else with any kind of an *actual waistband) ever again. Or until Henry goes the way of Darth Vader.

Hen is out of control. (Okay, so am I. ... By which I mean: I am fully aware that part of Henry's problem is that the person who feeds this body thinks that nachos are a legitimate breakfast option. But listen... nachos meet multiple food group requirements. Seriously: cheese, grains, vegetables/fruits - if you add tomatoes and/or avocado. They're a balanced meal! ... Sort of.)

But I digress.

Here's a pic of me that was taken this morning. (I make note that this was a morning shot, because Henry gets bigger as the day goes on. Between the gravity that literally pulls him further out of me the longer I stand and... well... the nachos (and other foods) that I ingest that make my stomach full, Henry is a significantly bigger deal by nightfall than he was in the AM. Every day of my life.)

*Good news: Yoga pants don't have actual waistbands. Phew!

See that off-centered bulge right around where my bellybutton should be? ... That's my friend Henry.

(Don't you worry. I didn't wear just this shirt and skirt out of the house.  That would have been obscene. I put my pink ruffly shirt OVER the black shirt. I've found that nothing hides Henry better than ruffles do. ... Good thing I've been a big fan of ruffley tops since 1978. Thus, I own A LOT of clothes with built-in camouflaging ruffles.)

Anyhoo... the skirt that I was wearing today rests right under Henry. I've been fine wearing this skirt for MONTHS, because the waistband was low enough that it never bugged. ... Gone are the days.

By 10:00 this morning, I could feel the underside of Henry chafing from rubbing against my skirt as I walked.

I guess it'll be maternity dresses and yoga pants for a while... (I'm swearing off the maternity jeans for the next little bit. Since they sort of slipped right off my bum while I was on a date last week, I'm thinking they'll be keeping the top shelf in my closet company for a while.)

What I learned in school

This month marks 22 years since I graduated from high school. ... The mind reels, doesn't it? Where does the time go?

Anyhoo... I was thinking the other day about all the stuff I learned in school. There was some pretty great stuff taught in the Snowflake Unified School District back in the 80's and 90's. Please allow me to tell you all about it. (K-8, anyway.)

Kindergarten: I learned that leprechauns are real.

1st Grade: I learned not to tell my mom I had friends who were boys.

2nd Grade: I learned that if I used my fingernails to push the straight pins into the bulletin board, it didn't hurt nearly as badly as when I used the pad of my index finger.

3rd Grade: I learned that North is RIGHT IN FRONT of me.

4th Grade: I learned that the correct pronunciation is Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, with a hard CH.

5th Grade: I learned that when you blow on rabbit fur, the fur spreads out in a perfect circle and you can see the rabbit's actual skin.

6th Grade: I learned that I was tall.

7th Grade: I learned not to shave my arms.

8th Grade: I learned that menstrual cycles don't usually go on for 3 or more weeks.

Ahhh... You just can't beat a public school education!

Three things

Tonight, I am full to the brim with happy thoughts about the city I live in.

I'm not even kidding. ... I really am.

I'm pretty sure I could go on and on about all the stuff I love (listen, when I'm all giddy and happy, I could just about EXPLODE all over people with joy), but due to time constraints (I should have been in bed an hour ago), I'll limit this list to three things I LOVE about the city I live in.

1) Tempe Town Lake

I love it.

I mean, I LOVE IT!

I drive past the lake every day on my way to and from work. I can never decide if it's prettier with the sun on the water (as it is here) or after the sun's gone down, when the twinkle lights are on the water.

2) Whatever those yellow flowering trees are...

I love those silly yellow flowers. I have NO IDEA what kind of trees those are, but I know they're everywhere. And I love them. I love that I get yellow flower dust in my hair when I walk down the street. I love that little yellow flowers fall down into my car if I leave my window open for 30 minutes. I LOVE THEM!

And, tonight, I realized that, even in the dark, those little flowers are just... well... perfect.

3) Classic movies in the theater.

I love that I live no more than two miles away from two different theaters, and that BOTH those theaters run classic film series. Last week, when I was home visiting with Uncle John, he mentioned that he's seen The Sound of Music a dozen times - and at least half of those were in a theater. ... I countered with I HAVE NO IDEA how many times I've seen The Sound of Music, but I do know that I've seen it TWICE in a theater. (No small feat for someone of my generation, I like to think.)

I'm so grateful for the opportunities I have had to see movies that I love - movies from my childhood and adolescence - on a big screen again.

There are few things that I love like I love going to the movies, and when the movie that you're going to see is as familiar as an old glove... well, that somehow makes it even better.

My favorite uncle

I went home this weekend, so I could spend some quality time with my favorite uncle.

Now, before any of you get bent out of shape about me playing favorites, let me just say... I'm an equal opportunity favorite-er. As in, I've been known to have multiple favorites at the same time. It is my way.

Which is NOT to say that Uncle John isn't really my favorite. He so is.

Probably because he has magical powers:

Also, he's a HECK of a story teller! I should know, because I got him to sit down and tell Katie and me stories for three hours Thursday night while all the other grown ups were out of the house.

It was a little bit o' heaven, I tell you.

John is my mom's oldest sibling, and as such, has memories/stories that I'd never heard before.

I love my family. Immediate, extended, adopted, grafted... however they became part of us. I love them.

Stuff I've run (as in "driven") into...

I'm sure the seven or so people who still read this blog have been thinking that it's been a while since I've bared (born?) my soul and told the www something STUPID I've done.

Well, today's your lucky day.

I've been thinking (and laughing) about some of the stuff I've run into over the years, and I thought I might make you a short little list:

* Basha's (yeah - the store ... or, at least, one of the pillars in front of it)

* Dunaways' van (who, besides me, has EVER gotten a ticket for "reckless parking"?!)

* a multitude of curbs (I totally curbed it on the way out of the dealership, the day I bought my first car. Left the wheel cover thing there on the side of the road. ... True story. Kirk was with me, and I don't know that I've ever seen him laugh so hard - before or since.)

* Mark Nguyen (it may have been over 20 years, but I still remember the name of the dude who was riding his bike down 9th East on that fateful night)

True stories, every one of them.

I was born to have a driver. Obviously.

TMM and BFF's

For those of you who may not be my FB friends to have seen the ongoing "dialogue", I give you...

I tell you what, I posted something on the facebook over the weekend that referenced Thoroughly Modern Millie, and Jenni and I've been going back and forth with movie lines ever since.

Gosh, I love TMM. Also, I love Jen. Also, I love that SHE loves TMM every bit as much as I do.

Like a squirrel, gathering the nuts of life...

Happy Day!

Marching through time

Please forgive the title. It is a TERRIBLE pun. (My dad would be so proud.)

This morning, I thought it would be fun to go back through this week/weekend in the last five years. (This is one of the joys of having kept this blog since 2008. When my aged mind can't remember something clearly, all I have to do is go back through ye olde blog and BAM! There it is. ... Assuming the thing I'm looking for is a piece of ridiculousness that would have been chronicled here.)

Anyhoo... Like I said, I thought it would be fun to go back through this week and see what I was doing, when.

And I was right. It WAS fun.

So, I'm going to make it easy for you to do it, too.

March 2009: In which I write about how grateful I was for the "opportunity" to make significantly less money than I had in previous years. ... No, but really. I really was so grateful. I still am, actually.

I am SO grateful for the way my professional life took a turn in 2008. When the bank closed, I needed a job. Any job. Soon. And I found one. (Who's unemployed for less than two weeks? ... Only me. ... I'm still amazed at how quickly and effortlessly that job landed in my lap.) It was my original intention to go back into banking as soon as I could get something permanent. I thought about working for the FDIC, and even interviewed to work on a team that would have been traveling around the country. )How awesome would that have been?!) But something kept me at a call center.

Hello, that "something" would be the Lord. That company had the best corporate benefit package I've ever seen. Their insurance was FABULOUS. I paid $500 out of pocket the year I had my first surgery. That was my surgery, the week in the hospital, 6 weeks of radiation, and countless surgical followups. Seriously. $500. ... I may have been bringing home less, but what I saved in spending on medical costs made up for it.

And my work schedule was such a blessing, too. The first two years I was there, I worked a 3x12 schedule. That's right. I worked 12 hour shifts, 3 days a week. As in, I had a 4 day weekend. Every week. Which gave me time with friends and family that I wouldn't have had otherwise. I was able to spend time with the people that I love the most, and I treasure memories made during those years.

That job was such a blessing. I mean, really.

March 2010: In which I write about having spent the night before at Myra's, watching TV and eating cupcakes.

Ahhhh... Those TV-watching nights at My's house were good times. As I recall, that was the spring that Ken was traveling internationally, so Myra and I would gather for snacks and television with our (okay, my) TV boyfriends (Castle, Dr. Jack and Sayid). Riley was a baby, and she'd stay up late with us, laughing and being silly.

Those were the days of the book club that is no more, the Halloween parties in the Johnsons' backyard, late night conversations about oh... everything we could think of, and weekly recipe shares.

March 2011: In which I write about having gone wig shopping with Cousin Julie, and post pics of myself as a platinum blond.

It was the weekend before #2 came out, and Julie had made her (sometimes) annual pilgrimage to Arizona to enjoy the warm winter weather and some quality cousin bonding time with her cousin who had cancer.

We laughed and we cried, ate too much and slept too little, partied with friends and spent down time by the pool that weekend. And we went wig shopping, because Dr. W had told me there was a real chance I'd have to do chemo after the second surgery and I wanted to make DANG SURE I knew what I wanted, so I could send someone else to the store to pick me up some hair if that was the case.

The Genova Girl is still my favorite, btw. Just in case anyone ever needs to know...

March 2012: In which I write about March of 2011, suppository and all.

True story.

(The post right before this was Jo's birthday surprise of going to see Straight No Chaser - who I love. But this post made me feel more, so this is the link I'm sharing. If you'd rather read about good times than hard times, please feel free to pull up March 22, 2012.)

It's funny to me, how well I still remember that day in the hospital. Out of all the surgeries and hospital stays I've had, that day was probably my hardest day. (That I remember, anyway. Rumor has it that the first day after my last surgery was a DOOZY. Hallucinations and all manner of crazy. ... Poor Judy.) Having just read that post, I'm struck that I didn't think to mention that pretty much every vein in my right arm had been blown, so one of the techs had to bring in an ultrasound machine to find a vein for my IV.

That's right. They had to do an ultrasound to find a good vein. ... No wonder I get a lot of grief from phlebotomists - even now - over the scar tissue in my right arm.

Anyway, that day was hard. So hard, that a year later I was writing a blog post about it. (And three years later, am again referencing it.) But what I learned in that hard day is that the people in my life matter more than the stuff in my life. Even when the stuff is really hard stuff.

That day was hard. It was hard from the get go. That shower was brutal - for so many reasons. The suppository experience was NOT AWESOME. Popping yet another IV wasn't super fun. (I had so many IV's pop in that hospital stay, though, that it wasn't surprising. I swear to you, I looked like I had track marks when I was released.) ... But the thing that made me cry - nay, sob - was knowing that I had a friend in a different hospital, for a very different reason. And the thing that brought me comfort was that Jo and Roomie came - and didn't leave, even though it was ugly.

People matter. A lot. More than anything else. ... And I'm so grateful for the people in my life.

March 2013: In which I write about singing/crying through a hymn in church.

We sang The Lord is My Shepherd last Sunday, and I actually made it through the entire song without dissolving into a puddle of tears. ... I was pretty proud of me. (There's a first for everything, right?)

Which brings us to this week in March, 2014: I had some sleepovers with Jo's kids so she and Dean could go to Denver for her nephew's wedding.

Here are the takeaways from having spent two nights and two days with five children and one puppy:

Watch where you step. Puppy poop is much harder to clean up if you step in it (barefoot) and then track it through the entire family room.

Make sure the six year old is wearing shoes before you let her get in the car to go to the park, esp if you know you're going to have to park across the street and walk half a block before you get to said park.

While you're making sure the six year old is wearing shoes, maybe check the three year old for pants. Otherwise, you're going to have both a shoe-less wonder and a kid wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties out in public.

Don't buy the little kids Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers at Wendy's. Kids are gross and actually like the cheapie burgers at McD's. Save money. And, more importantly, save the bacon for people who'll actually appreciate it.

When having a Frozen party with multiple females under the age of 10, make sure you bring your own stash of bobby pins. Doing "princess hair" is a must, and sock buns and ponies need a little bit of help to stay fancy while girls are jumping around, singing "Let it Go" at the top of their lungs, waving their arms about like THEY have actual powers and can command the winds and sky.

No, but really... it was a great weekend. I am exhausted, and my body and my spirit are at war (walking around a park, pushing kids on swings and pulling a crying three year old off a stack of rocks - all sans binder - did me in), but it was a great weekend. The older kids are getting to be so much fun. (We stayed up late, watching PG 13 movies after the little girls went to bed.) And the little girls are adorable, even if they are exhausting.

Five years. (Actually, the blog has been going for almost six years. So, please allow me to rephrase.)

Five months of March.

All awesome. ... For different reasons. But awesome, nonetheless.

There have been hard times, fun times and silly times. But they've all be good times.

What was amazing to me, as I walked through the posts in the last five Marches, is that the overriding theme is that of gratitude. Gratitude for the people in my life, for the time I have had with them, for the memories I have been able to make with them.

Life is good. I am blessed.