Archive for the ‘Postcards from Cancerland.’ Category

Old and Odd.

Posted: November 11, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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Diana,

I have a simple dream my love…

I want to grow old and odd with you by my side.
I’m more convinced than ever.
I’ve seen you…
Unselfishly take care of business…
Take care of me in ways that define commitment…
Take care of our home…
Do your job with excellence and care…
Love the Moonpie…
Be a true friend to our daughter…
Walk the Wonder Hound…
Pay the bills…
Mow the lawn…
Plan meals for our full house…
Hold hands with me in dark places…
Laugh and cry with me…
Deal with unnecessary drama…
Pray with and for me for a miracle…
Kiss my hairless chin and reassure me that I’m still a pirate…
You have stayed and loved fierce and strong.
You have grown even more beautiful.
I didn’t think that was possible.
But…
I’ve seen the beauty of your character shine through.
And so I want nothing more than to grow old with you…
I will be odd.
You will be wonderful.
We will have great adventures.
We will dance and laugh loud.
We will look up and let sunsets take our breath away.
We will lose track of time as we play with our granddaughter…
There will be baby shark dance-offs, tea parties, snacks, ice capades, theme parks, cruises, high school graduation, a wedding, great grand babies!!
We will enjoy it all.
I want to grow old and odd with you by my side.
We will go to quirky little restaurants where we’ve never been.
We will eat breakfast at the same place everyday.
We will sit on beaches and sip margaritas.
We will watch Hallmark movies, because I like them more than I let on.
I want to grow old and odd with you by my side.
I love you.
I simply can not thank you (and the Creator of you) for what you have done and for who you are.
I will simply HAVE to live to be old and odd so that I have the time to express my gratitude.

defeat and de feet.

Posted: November 9, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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The other day when they told us that we could leave the hospital I didn’t waste anytime losing the lime green hospital gown that had exposed my expansive backside for days. I flung it off like yesterday’s spoiled yogurt. (I did keep the lovely purple skid proof socks, because I figured we got charged $148 for those.)

I got dressed in my street clothes in record time…cargo shorts…t-shirt…socks…37 seconds…BOOM!
Then, I put on my beloved slip on Vans…
They were much tighter than I remembered.
They were downright uncomfortable!
That was weird!
I mentioned it to Diana.
We decided my feet were probably swollen from all the fluids and laying around in a big mechanical bed.
So I just wore the shoes home, I grimaced every time I walked and wondered how big my feet were going to grow.
I took off my Vans as soon as I got home and tossed them in the closet.
This morning, as I was getting ready I slipped on my slip ons. They were STILL tight and uncomfortable. WHAT? This can’t be! My petite feet can’t still be swollen. I picked up a shoe and felt around inside…
LO and BEHOLD, there was a sock wadded up in the toe of each shoe!
Weird life lesson: don’t go through life with wadded up dirty laundry, it will only make things uncomfortable!

Discharged.

Posted: November 7, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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We are breaking out of this joint.

I think that the fever broke last night.

I’ve never been so happy to wake up in my own sweat.
We have been discharged!!
They didn’t have to tell us twice.
It was time, I was getting pretty gamey.
For those of you fine folks who want some answers, we know more about what it is not than what it is.
Due to a barrage of tests they ruled out the flu, pneumonia, and about 125 other bacterial bad boys.
It seems likely that I came in contact with someone with an infection and my body reacted in a most unfriendly manner. It could be sepsis, which could have been life threatening.
I was pumped up with enough antibiotics to sucker punch any virus villain.
I was given two units of someone else’s blood.
I’m forever grateful for blood donors.
I’ve done it before and I will do it again.
I’m pretty sure nobody wants my blood right now.
But, thanks to someone willing to share their O positive I’m feeling so much better.
My hemoglobin got better.
My white blood cell count was good.
They sent us home.
I challenged the dearly discharged older lady in the wheelchair next to me to a race.
She acted like she couldn’t hear me.
Maybe she wasn’t acting.
Now we are home and I ponder some stuff…
Taco Bell is better than hospital food…hello Chalupa!
Speaking of which…
The combo platter of hospital food and hospital toilet paper is just really cruel!
I don’t know if it’s a lunar thing, but it seems that 3:40 am is the optimum time for taking blood.
I had a nurse that I had a hard time understanding. At one point, she asked me if I passed gas, I totally thought she asked me if I loved God.
Fortunately the answer to both questions is the same!
They had an unexpected (to us) fire drill on our floor last night…that was alarming…literally.
I’m not a big fan of getting shots in my stomach.
But it happened…
three times.
Because…
I’m REALLY not a big fan of blood clots, and that is what the stomach shots are for.
It’s the little things that can make you vulnerable and bring you down. Just a few points on a thermometer can mess everything up.
We are home now and I’m realizing that clean underwear can be almost as life changing as a blood transfusion.

HUNKA HUNKA burning love…

Posted: November 6, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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Yesterday was spent fighting the fever.
At one point it got up to 102.2. That was a little scary.
I’ve had antibiotics pumping into my body and numerous electrodes connected to my pasty chest.
I’ve taken countless pills out of tiny plastic cups. I’ve consumed some amazingly bland hospital food…”WHAT kind of soup did you say that was?”
My hospital bed seems to have a mind of it’s own. It occasionally makes a whining noise that sounds like an airplane and it starts to move up and down. I need a seatbelt!
I met with several doctors, including one from the infectious diseases department, she asked me 897 questions, poked around my belly, rubbed my feet, looked between my toes, and stared at my throat.
It was awkward.
Speaking of awkward, one very enthusiastic nurse offered me a sponge bath…”UMMM, no…I’m good.”
I think she offered because my head was starting to smell like vinegar.
I took care of that.
I was woken this morning at 4:30 am with the news that I needed a blood transfusion. It turns out that my hemoglobin (which is not a villain on Batman) is wonky.
I signed some papers and now we wait for some blood.
Blood changes everything.

Fever.

Posted: November 5, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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It’s Sunday night and I find myself in the Emergency Room.
That’s not where I expected to be.
My Mom and Sister were here this weekend.
We had a great visit.
In a strange twist of suckiness, Mom was diagnosed with cancer the same day as me.
She fought her own brave fight.
She underwent six weeks of radiation.
My amazing sister, Hope, was by her side the whole time.
A few weeks ago, Mom was able to ring the bell.
She is cancer free.
I am so very glad.
It was good to hug her, hang out, and celebrate life a bit.
They flew home and things got weird.
I have felt really groggy today.
Then I got the chills and I got a fever.
That’s not a good thing with my beat up immune system.
So my doctor told us to head to the ER.
I was put in an isolation room with comfortable chairs and given a mask to wear.
After putting the mask on I was immediately thankful that I brushed my teeth before coming.
I was taken to one small room for a few tests and then taken to a bigger room where I was hooked up with a very ventilated green gown.
In the last few hours I’ve had people take blood and take chest X-rays.
I had to pee in something that looks like a plastic milk jug.
A pharmacist came up and quizzed me about drugs that I’m on. But she was wearing a mask so it sounded like “dooooth yoousth taaketh jour medths”.
They are giving me antibiotics and a “crap load” of fluids. (Those were my nurses exact words, I like exact measurements. I think crap load is part of the metric system).
So far the fever has just risen.
We were just admitted into a regular room where they are running more tests and taking my vitals every three minutes.
Another nurse just took a nasal specimen swab with a long stick. (It was a Q-tip from hell). They stuck it up my nose and I felt it touch my brain. That wasn’t pleasant.
Hospitals are tough places to rest.
Diana is trying to rest on the weird little hospital room vinyl couch.
Tomorrow was supposed to be the beginning of round six, instead I’m wearing lovely purple non-skid hospital socks.
Sometimes Sundays don’t work out the way you think.
Find the helpers.

The Weakness.

Posted: October 29, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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Growing up I read countless comic books.
Many of them had the same enticing ads in the back, there were advertisements for X-ray vision glasses, and real live Sea Monkeys!
Then there was ALWAYS a full page ad for Charles Atlas (legendary bodybuilder and really strong guy). It was a simple story of a “weakling” finding new strength because of the patented Charles Atlas program.
Something that has surprised me a bit about this wild adventure in Cancerland is how weak I have felt.
I have never felt this weak in my life, and I’ve had my weak moments!
I have hauled hay, enthusiastically walked a 5K, worked the nightshift at Wal-Mart, and been in charge of countless lock-ins.
None of that compares to chemo.
There have been times when I don’t know if I could punch my way through pudding.
But…wait…here’s the truly crazy thing…
In my weakened state I find that I’ve never been stronger!
(I was going to type that last sentence in all caps, but that seemed too physically taxing.)
It’s true, as I have surrendered to the process, I’ve discovered new strength.
Maybe weakness is the secret to true strength. It seems like I might have read that somewhere.
Maybe surrender is the bravest thing we can do.
In my weakness I have leaned into the arms of an old friend.
I have been following Jesus since I was seven years old, but, I feel closer to Him than ever. I have clung to him like Velcro and I have gotten to know Him like never before.
I have realized that His joy really, really is my strength.
All of my life, The joy of the Lord has been the flag that I’ve waved.
We all find our own flag to wave.
But, there comes a time when you have to turn your flag into a stretcher, something that can carry you when you are weak.
You better pick something strong enough to support you during the weak times.
I choose joy.
During my weak times, I have experienced a fullness of joy that is ONLY found in His presence.
So, that is where I choose to hang out.
In my weakened state I find that I’ve never been stronger!
This past weekend Diana and I got to spend some time with my granddaughter, the amazing Moonpie McLovenugget, we sung “baby shark” eight hundred and seventy three times and we had a pretty crazy dance party.
I danced like a toddler hopped up on pixie stix, I was wild and uncoordinated.
I didn’t get tired at all. I didn’t get winded or worn out.
I think it’s because I lost myself in an act of pure joy.
In my weakened state I found that I’ve never been stronger!
This weakling has found new strength, because of my friend, Jesus.

Prank the Pain.

Posted: October 26, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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Video might have killed the radio star, but caller ID killed the prank call.

There was a golden time when kids could grab their olive green rotary phones and spend their afternoons prank calling complete strangers.
It was AWESOME!
We would get off the school bus, grab a snack, ignore our homework, get the phone book (another cherished relic of the past), and start dialing innocent individuals and businesses.
It was a great way to shake off some of the pain of puberty. After navigating the social jungle of middle school, we just needed some mischief.
We stuck to the classics:
“Is your refrigerator running?”
“Do you have Prince Albert in a can?” (Best delivered to a retail establishment).
Or we would pretend that we were from the phone company and try to get people to take their phone apart.
We also, for some unexplainable reason, thought it was totally hilarious to call someone three or four times and say: “is John there?” Then call back and say: “this is John, has anyone called for me?”
We were completely unoriginal, but we had fun.
It was mostly harmless, except every once in a while you would encounter someone with some anger issues.
That actually made it even more fun! You felt really edgy and extreme if the person on the other end started cussing or threatening you.
Back then phones were big and clunky and immobile.
We used them for one thing…talking.
We couldn’t text, make or watch videos, play games, navigate trips, listen to music, or carry them everywhere.
If we wanted to have fun with a phone, we had to create it!
We had to make our own mischief!
That is actually an important life skill.
Sometimes life hurts.
You need to learn how to prank the pain.
Holy mischief is a powerful weapon.
Bullies hate to be laughed at.
Laughter can let the light in.
Here’s an example…
This sounds crazy, but one of the hardest times of my life was also one of the most tangibly joyful.
When my Dad passed away, he was unconscious in the hospital for eight days before he moved on to heaven.
During that time our family came together in a stuffy waiting room.
We cried, we hugged each other, we remembered, we cried some more.
But…
we also laughed, we shared old stories about Dad that gave us guts full of fresh laughter.
AND…
we pulled pranks on each other.
My Uncle Billy (who is a lifelong practitioner of the prank), my brother and I had a remote control fart machine that we used on unsuspecting family members and visitors.
My Mom’s Pastor was particularly fun to prank. Then we took the fart machine on an elevator and made …umm…new friends.
We got one poor young couple who were taking their newborn baby home…they were videotaping the whole thing, we provided the sound effects.
This probably sounds really strange if you haven’t walked through it.
But, We were able to laugh in the worst of times because we were able to hope.
We had the hope of heaven…of family reunions.
I had the hope that my earthly father was safe in the arms of my Heavenly Father.
We had the hope of a God, whose love is stronger than whatever opponent is staring us down.
Joy is born of hope.
Holy mischief is born of joy.
Sometimes life hurts.
Sometimes life is anything but funny.
It’s clunky and immobile.
It only comes in olive green.
You’ve got to dig deep and grab some hope.
Fight with joy.
Make some mischief!
Prank the pain!!

Contagious!

Posted: October 24, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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Disease can make things awkward.

People react to sickness and shortcomings so many ways.

Many people don’t know what to say or how to act, so they don’t say anything.
I get it!!
Some people cock their heads and only talk to you in hushed tones like they are talking to a small child with limited reasoning abilities.
That is kind of odd!
But, many people just talk to you like a friend. They ask how you are doing, but they also talk about football, and movies, dogs, and new  ice cream places.
That is good.
Some people are afraid to touch you.
Most of the time, they don’t want to hurt you, knock you down or spread germs.
That is thoughtful.
Some don’t want to catch what you got.
I’ve explained a couple of times that cancer isn’t contagious.
But, that doesn’t mean you won’t catch something from me…
What I HAVE is not contagious.
Who I AM is contagious.
It’s true!!
We are constantly spreading something.
We are born infectious. It’s not some weird zombie thing, it’s the fact that we, as humans, are created to rub off on each other.
That is supposed to be good.
Our attitudes and actions are contagious.
People are affected and infected by you!
It’s not about WHAT you have.
It’s about WHO you are.
Love is infectious,
So is hate.
Joy is infectious,
So is despair.
Hope is infectious,
So is fear.
We have to choose what we are going to spread around.
Maybe we need a soul vaccination against the things that can hurt us.
I think it’s usually a matter of perspective.
Do we live according to what we see or what we believe?
When our attitude is appearance based, it’s easy to get drug down and we end up spreading fear.
It’s not always easy to choose faith and trust.
But, it’s worth it to infect the world with hope and joy.
Find light in the little things and shine it around.
Choose joy.
Then throw it around like confetti.
You were born infectious.
Who you ARE is contagious.
What will you spread?

i feel…

Posted: October 24, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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Wild, Wonky, and Weak.

Posted: October 22, 2018 in Postcards from Cancerland.
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When your Monday resembles a Waylon Jennings song…

On a big vinyl chair, l’m sitting this cold morning,

Nurse is taking my blood without much warning. 

They are runnin’ my labs, and checkin’ things out.

Makin’ sure white blood cells are movin’ about. 

Lord, I’m feeling wild, wonky, and weak.

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