The One in Which I Tell You How Beautiful You Are

If you have been following my blog, you know that Steven and I went on a river cruise down the Seine in the beginning of April. I've left out a little detail that I've been wanting to write about, and now seems like the time.

I met a woman about my age the first day of the cruise - traveling alone and just gotten off another 14 day cruise! Her name was "Candy", and she had a little, spikey pixie cut in platinum blond. She socialized with the other passengers, but seemed very comfortable to be sitting alone, too. In fact, she often sat in the lounge area, alone, listening to the musical entertainment and...knitting. But knitting with a yarn/material that I'd never seen before. It was more like trim in a lovely wine colored string with metallic edging.

Wear Gray for May - Brain Cancer Awareness Month, Day 11 - American Brain Tumor Association

I remember I told you that I didn't bring a wig at all for this cruise - wanted to be bald and proud! - but I was cold most of the time, so I often had a hat on, even inside. <----probably one of the most annoying day-to-day side effects of cancer and/or my meds...It doesn't help that I have hardly any hair on my head!) I don't know if Candy thought I was embarrassed by my baldness, but one of the first days she came up to me, held my hands in hers, looked me in the eyes with the most intense, earnest look and declared, "You are beautiful. Don't ever forget you are beautiful."  I stammered, "Thank you." of course, but I was caught off guard. I think she may have thought my brain cancer had really affected my speech. We hugged, and she was off again to be her unique Candy self. Where ever you are Candy, you rock!

Candy and I sat together in the lounge sometimes during the cruise- especially when Steven was doing his wine presentations. (She really like the wine! lol!) I never asked her any probing questions. like why she was traveling alone or if she had experience with cancer...I figured if she wanted me to know, she would volunteer the information. I wonder still today about her adorable pixie hair cut - Was that a decision that came after a battle with cancer like me?

The day before the cruise was ending, she came up on me unexpectedly again. She had her knitting in her hands - only she has transformed it into this:

I am wearing it in the picture above - with NO HAT, Candy! - but the lighting is better here.

She said, "This is for you. Only on one condition: you never wear a hat with it. I want it to remind you of how beautiful you are." Once again, I was speechless, but with tears in my eyes this time. I was overwhelmed by her thoughtful and kind gesture. I knew how many hours she had spent working on this scarf, and I was honored that she would give it to me. Yes, it was a beautiful scarf, but the real beauty was right there in front of me: Candy. A kind, selfless act from a practical stranger.

I've heard from other cancer warriors what this is one of the positive things about their affliction: that they discover how many beautiful people there are out there - (That's got to be one of the best parts of having brain cancer <---Can you imagine starting a sentence like that? 7 months ago,  I sure couldn't) - so many kind, selfless acts over the months since I've been diagnosed, I can't even begin to name them. I told Steven I wanted to send thank you notes to everyone that have lifted us up during this challenging time, but I was so out-of-it in the beginning, how do I go back that far and begin? I know I would forget some people and feel badly. He said I was ridiculous, and that nobody could expect us to do that.

But I want some way to convey the gratitude for every beautiful person out there (Kiddies, that means all of you!) , whether you sent me a card or an email or a squirrel or bracelet...or dropped by dinner in the early weeks (you have no idea how much that helped our family!). The donations to our Family Medical Fund and more recently the donations to our American Cancer Society, Relay for Life Team. Comments written on Facebook and here...and all the pictures of people Wearing Gray for May to increase awareness of Brain Tumors. Steven and I attended the Livermore Valley Wine Auction this weekend, and so many people came up to me to hug me and offer their prayers...(Phew! It's a good thing you can't see the tears rolling down my cheeks right now...)

Dinner at Wente with Super Schmoopy AKA the Bald Hottie at the Livermore Wine Auction

Believe me: every little gesture of support means so much to me and my family. This disease has unexpectedly opened my eyes to how many beautiful people there are in the world. What a gift. So, thank you, Candy, and all the other beautiful people out there. I would send a handwritten card to each and every one of you, but I'm playing the #cancercard right now. #freepass This is my handwritten card just for you.

Love, June Xoxoxo #mfbcfnw

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P.S. The only thing more beautiful than you is my granddaughter, Autumn Elizabeth. #sorrynotsorry

Autumn with "Mimi", the stuffed animal "Grandpa Steven" picked out for her in a little toy store in Paris.

P.P.S. FYI: We are already booked to do another river cruise in 2016 down the Rhone. Click on this link - Ama Waterways <---- if you are interested in joining us! If you don't know where the Rhone is, Google that Shit. Whoops, I almost made it through a whole blog post without cursing!

The One in Which I Talk About the Goodness in the World...and the Essentials

Yesterday, Steven and I were taking our (almost) daily walk up and around Communications Hill. It was chilly (by California standards), and I was bundled in my scarf and Steven was protecting his bald head (brrrr!) with a beanie, but we were still holding hands the whole way - all the way up and all the way down the 3 mile trek, as we always do.

As we reached the ~1 mile mark, he turned me and said, "This is the best part of my day, just walking here with you." And I said, "Me, too. Me, too." and he kissed my hand. With a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes, I concentrated on the feel of his hand in mine, his lips on my fingers, and the sound of the crunchy autumn leaves under our feet.

Me, too. Me, too.

We were at one of the last traffic lights, and I could hear from the chime in his pocket that Steven had received a text. He's been trying to simplify his life - pare down to the essentials. Part of his strategy is to have stricter control about when he does and does not check his texts, emails, notifications, etc., so he was tempted to let it go. I admire that. But with Thanksgiving quickly approaching and the coordinations for all the family travel, etc., I urged him to stop and check it. Even in the glare of the sun, I could see by his expression that it was not good. And then he shared with me:

He has a core group of guy friends that dedicate twice a year to get together. They geek out about food, wine, life, and just enjoy each other's company. One of these men's son (only 16 years old) had passed away suddenly. Neither of us had ever met this boy, but that didn't matter. It could have been anybody's son or daughter...anyone's tragic loss. The rest of the walk home was marked by mostly stunned silence as we both tried to process what we had just learned.

We didn't have very much time when we got home to prepare to leave for my radiation treatment, but one of things that I always do is make a new paper ninja star and write on it  - things to carry me through the experience. It seems like a silly ritual, but it helps me focus and remain calm during the treatments.  It's the MIND/SPIRIT part of my holistic approach to recovery & survival.

We were so stretched for time, though, that I had to grab the paper, pen, and scissors, and create it in the car on the way to the radiology office. But I knew just what I had to do:

Never forget the most essential: LIFE. 

During my treatment, I clutched that ninja star across my chest and visualized our morning walk, hand in hand, and the feel of Steven's lips on my fingers and the sound of the crunchy leaves.

When we got home from my treatment, I received a text from a coworker/friend. (Okay, if you must know, he was like my "work husband" for ~9 years. Love you & miss you, Todd! <3) ... He had a package to deliver to me after school.

It turned out to be a notebook filled with letters and notes from some of my former students. It was passed around the local high school, so these were kids from my class of 2009-2011 who wrote me messages. Letters and notes filled with compassion, encouragement, and hope...and some misspellings (for which I accept no responsibility!) #freepass

It was so overwhelming! I wish I could post every one of them on here. I am so touched. I think I will write about this book in more detail later. These kids deserve it. I just wanted you to have some small feeling of what an amazing gift this was for me. Any teacher would understand. It's one of those jobs where you're never really sure what kind of an impact you've had.

I curled up in my bed for a little nap and cried as I read...good tears  - of joy and gratitude.

and then...
(I know! Can you imagine?)
and then...

Steven brought home a package that was shipped to the winery for me. It was an unassuming white box, but when I opened it, this what I found, folded lovingly inside:

It is toasty warm and Tess-approved.

It is this beautiful crocheted blanket from Project Chemo Crochet. [One of the secrets that no one tells you about being a Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior is that you are almost always cold because of the treatments and medications.] Please click on the link to learn more about this amazing project. I think I need to learn how to crochet, so I can pay it forward...

The letter inside said:

"...We know that there might be times during this journey when you might feel cold, alone, tired, and scared. Our hope is that during those times you can feel our arms wrapping you with the love that went into every stitch.

Cancer's a bitch, that's why we stitch. Stay strong!" 

The thought of people from all over the U.S. and Canada stitching these squares.. <more good tears>
I feel your love!

I don't know why terrible things happen to people in this world, and I'm so sorry if you are going through something tragic right now.

So, today, it felt right for me to acknowledge:
I alive,
and I'm so, so grateful for all the good there is in this world.

Since I almost certainly won't "see" you until Friday, I want to wish you a day filled with friends, family, love, and LIFE.

P.S. I cry at the littlest things now, so I can't even begin to imagine how much of a blubbering idiot I will be when I have my whole family together. But they will be good tears!