The One in Which I Talk About the "Turd in the Punchbowl"

Recently, my husband came home from the winery and said, "I was pouring wine to a nice group in the Reserve Room, and then I said something that was like 'the turd in the punch bowl'." I thought...it could be anything, really. Steven is known for saying some things that could be deemed "inappropriate".  Like at one of the latest wine club releases, when Steven somehow tied in the phrase "It's like porn. You know it when you see it." with his welcome address to our club members. I don't know what to say. He has a masters in literature? A way with words? I love my Schmoopy with #nofilter! Can you imagine a more perfect match for the #MFBCFNW?!

Anyway, back to the "turd in the punch bowl". The background: When I was first diagnosed, one of my high school friends sent me some Ninja bracelets from the International Spy Museum that both Steven and I wear every day.

Thanks, Pam! (And the SKW family for the "No One Fights Alone" bracelets!) 

One of the guests asked about his Ninja bracelet and Steven told "The Story" - about how his wife has brain cancer and calls herself a Mother Fuckin' Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior  - (I'm not sure if he went that far)  -  that she identifies herself as a Ninja Warrior. And the guest said, "Oh, <uncomfortable silence> Because I've been to that museum, and it's really cool."

So, if I understand the turd analogy correctly, the reference to my cancer was the turd. I will admit that having cancer is pretty very shitty, but let me get this straight: We're not supposed to talk about cancer with people we don't really know...or only when it's "appropriate" - maybe when they bring it up first? So we know it's "safe.

I've had my own "turd in the punch bowl" moments recently, I guess. I've dyed my hair blue - all kinds of shades of blue (which is nothing like Shades of Grey, by the way. I sense some disappointment there? Especially with the earlier reference to porn? #sorrynotsorry)-  I've been trying to find the right shade of blue - which I think I've finally found - More like Smurfy than Sharky teal.

My hair started out a caramel color brown when I was young, then darkened a lot through high school and college.

Little June didn't know she was a Ninja Warrior yet.

This isn't a great picture of my hair at my college graduation, but it's an awesome opportunity to show my brother's rad Flock of Seagulls period. And my Mom, Dad, and Grandma.

Then in my 30's, my stylist suggested adding highlights. Eventually, it was very light - and I wasn't really sure what my "natural" hair color was. (I think hair stylist like to do that, don't they? So, they can sucker you into paying mucho dinero every 6 weeks of so.) Well, I ditched my stylist about 2-3 years ago, grew out the highlights, and discovered that there is some gray all along the temples. I'm okay with that. I've earned those grays, but it was a bit of a shock at first. So, I was coloring my own hair to try to match the roots up top as best I could - just coloring the gray.

Then I got cancer. "Fun Fact" (not really "fun", but maybe "interesting"): Unlike some other kinds of chemo, the one I take does not make all of my hair fall out. It's the radiation treatments that were the culprit, so the hair fell out only where the head was radiated. Apparently, a LOT Of my head was being radiated - and don't forget the exit points!

My hair fell out in a strange monk-on-acid-like pattern, I think.

But it's grown in (mostly), and I'm digging my little pixie hair cut. But look at how dark it is! And the gray was even more apparent. Believe me. vanity has gone out the window; however, I realized that I had a unique opportunity to let my freak flag fly and dye it ANY color. But I'm much more conscious about the toxic stuff that we wade through on a daily basis, and I try not to deliberately be in contact with it if I can help it. So, I started buying demi-permanent dyes that wash out after a few weeks and don't contain nasty, toxic stuff. I can't won't bleach all my color out of my hair, so it comes out like a dark brown with colorful highlights.

Relay for Life, Livermore - June 2015

First, I tried purple to celebrate the Relay for Life event, and when that faded, I decided to be bold and try blue. I swear that in all my 51 years of hair colors combined, I haven't ever had as many compliments about my hair as I do now. I've had women, young and old, actually stalk me in stores to stop me and say, "You're hair is gorgeous! I love the blue!"

And more importantly, I love it! 

I've found my "natural" color. I was supposed to have blue highlights with dark hair all along. 

Bird walking...bird walking...where was I? Oh, Yea. 

The Turd.

Twice now, someone has asked me what "inspired me" to go blue.And I tell them the TRUTH - "Well, actually, I have brain cancer, and I lost most of my hair through radiation treatment. When it came back, I decided to do something a little wild." I say it very matter-of-factly, not sad or depressed. I don't start crying or anything. It's just, well, MY LIFE. But the expressions on the faces of those listening to this, though...well....

turd. in. punch bowl.

And you know what?

I call bullshit. If 50% of males and nearly the same percentage of women will get cancer in their lifetime, we need to be talking about it more. And not just when it doesn't make people bummed out or uncomfortable. Or at an event specifically for "OUR" Cancer Awareness. We're supposed to live in this happy, land of unicorns and rainbows where cancer doesn't exist? Or where at least we're not reminded of it? Blissfully in denial? Yet there are so many different kinds of cancer that some cancers have to share months of "awareness"? And ribbon colors.

Just think about that for minute.

While we're on the subject, these months of "Awareness"...like people aren't aware that Breast Cancer or Brain Cancer or Colon Cancer, etc. exist? Let's be honest, and say that these months are really fundraising months for these cancers where we focus on a type of cancer and those who are involved are given more focus by legislators and the public to have a voice to plead their case: Please fund our organizations for research and support. Please help us find a CURE. Well, I would like permission to say that 12 months of the year without being accused of being "inappropriate".

No, I take that back. I'm not asking for permission. Fuck it. I have a #braincancerpass #freepass, Excuse me if I make you uncomfortable or bum you out by talking about my condition when it's "inappropriate". I. have. brain.cancer. And if we don't start talking about cancer more freely, when will it be cured? Is there a disease that has a precedent in modern times - one that affects so many people, and yet we're not frantically pouring money, time, and energy to find a cure?

I know there are a lot of hard-working scientists in research facilities around the world, trying to uncover the mysteries of this disease. And I know this is complicated because each form of cancer has it's own idiosyncrasies. So, let's talk about it. And not act like it's a turd in a punch bowl.

OH, you know my Schmoopy, the one with a "way with words"? At our last oncologist and neuro-oncologist's appointments this month, he asked them point blank: "Do you think we'll ever find a cure for cancer?" Since this has gotten ridiculous long, and that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish, I'll save their answers for another blog entry. But you've got to admit, that's a pretty ballsy thing to ask them, no?

And everyone likes a cliffhanger, right?

The One in Which I Totally Embarass Schmoopy/Steven. Squeeee!

I was revisiting some of my blog posts, which I do occasionally to make sure I'm not totally repeating something I said before. FYI, I know I repeat things sometimes. Well, I don't know necessarily what it IS that I'm repeating, but I know I've said some things more than once here. I blame it on the treatment - radiation is notorious for affecting our short-term memory. But then I talk to other people who are my age or older, and they say, "I do that all the time, too". So, whether it's brain cancer or age - you pick - I wanted you to be aware that I know that I repeat myself.

Oh, Oh! Warning! Ear worm coming on! "I repeat myself when under stress...I repeat myself when under stress..." (Click at your own risk of spreading the earworm.)

 (Kiddies, you're just going to have to trust me on this one. You had to be in your formative years in the 80's to really appreciate this. But I didn't receive these socks for nothin')

(Now, that's one I think only my generation is going to remember. See! There are things we remember! Doesn't that feel good?) My job here is done. Oops! Not quite.

I had three high school friends who came to visit me within the last week. Two flew 3,000 miles all the way from the D.C. area to spend a day and a half with me. One lives in Los Angeles - and for all of you that don't live in California, look at map, people. It's BIG. It's not like she lives down the block.

But I digress.(It wouldn't be an authentic June blog post if I didn't bird-walk a little bit, right?)

I was extremely thrilled to see all three of them (of course), and honored that they took the time away from their busy lives to come out here to see me. Unfortunately, I had one glitch in my visit with Pam & Jill. When we planned the visit, my chemo cycles were not going to coincide with the visit, but with my Tooth Saga, I was on the tail-end of cycle #9 when they arrived. Saturday morning laid me out flat, and I had to take another five hours of sleep before I rallied for a wonderful evening. On the plus side, they got to explore downtown Livermore, and I was the recipient of some awesome goodies as a result (see socks above):and this sweet shirt:

If you come visit me, expect your car to be dirty when you leave. It's all DIRT, Baby!

It was all good in the end.

 Snuggled under blankets, listening to live music at Double Barrel in downtown Livermore. 

Visiting with Allison was a lovely time. She drove out from San Francisco at rush hour. I warned her about that, but then I remembered that she lives in L.A. (Hello! McFly! You call this "traffic"??) Fortunately, she arrived just in time to enjoy the sunset in my backyard, and we had a chance to discuss Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Happiness around the firepit. No pictures. I'm finding that I "forget" about my phone more and more - except for the app that reminds me when to take my meds. And pictures of sunsets. And sunrises. But spending time with people trump phones 100% of the time.

Saying good-bye with all these friends was slightly awkward (for me). Doesn't the saying go, "This isn't saying good-bye. It's just saying 'See ya' later!'"? But we all knew/know that in my case, that may have been good-bye. In fact, they might not have gone through that much trouble if there wasn't at least a tiny part of them that was saying, "This may be the last time I get to see June alive." We didn't discuss it, but I talked to Steven about it, though. (Hint: I talk to him about pretty much everything. So, if you tell me, "Don't tell anyone about this,..." that really means, "Don't tell anyone but Steven about this....")

Don't worry, my Warrior friends. I'm not dwelling on that last good-bye. If you follow me on social media (Instagram, Facebook, etc.),  you know that I'm spending a lot of time enjoying my new surroundings in Livermore. Sunsets, sunrises, walks with Schmoopy and the doggies...and trying to transform this house into our home.

It just so happens that my next MRI is scheduled for next Monday, 10/26, and that always brings on the scanxiety syndrome. Through yoga, meditation, and my Schmoopy, I keep re-centering myself to the present and the gifts I have every day: visits with family and friends, the beauty that surrounds me, and my best friend/love of my life...the best thing that ever happened to me. Namely: Steven.

I was at a wine club release a couple weeks ago, and one of the club members leaned into me while Steven was talking and said, "You know how lucky you are to have him, right? He's a good one."  (I resisted the urge to say DUH! And if you are reading this right now, #sorrynotsorry #braincancercard #freepass) Just in case you didn't know it by now, yes, I do know how lucky I am. He gets embarrassed when I talk about this, but that's just one of the things that makes him so special.

I talked to my "mother-in-love", Judy, the other day. (She lives in Arizona.) She feels helpless that there's nothing she can do to help me, living so far away. I get that, but there's really nothing that anyone can do. I told her, you already did probably the most important thing to help me through this.. You raised the man I married, my Schmoopy. I don't know what I would do without him. The greatest gift of all.

He shaved his head for me, but winery guests were afraid he was sick - and my hair grew back, so he has hair, too, now!
___________________________________________________________________

This totally didn't start out as a blog post singing Steven's praises, but I started writing, and this is what came out. It was going to be an essay on how to achieve World Peace and stop Global Warming. But I guess that one will have to wait. Priorities, people. Priorities! 

P.S. I know I've told you how bitchin' he is before. That's not a brain cancer or age/memory thing. I just think he deserves it.

P.P.S. Thank you so much to Jill, Pam, and Allison for the visits!!! Love, June Xoxoxo #mfbcfnw

P.P.P.S. And not to bum you out, but just a reminder: It could be "Good-bye!" for any of us - and not "See you later!" Something to think about when you are with your precious loved ones.

The One in Which Schmoopy & I go to the Happiest Place on Earth

Not long after I was dx'ed, had my surgery, and started to get the gist of my prognosis, I told Steven that we needed to start thinking of the things we wanted to do and DO THEM. You know the saying: "You better get busy living or get busy dying!"

I refuse to call it a "bucket list" because that implies that we are doing these things because we think I'm going to "kick the bucket" soon. (Where the hell did that saying come from? Hang on. I'm gonna Google that Shit!) Huh! Interesting! There's not a consensus. What?!You thought I was going to tell you? Geez-a-Louise! Don't be lazy. I've got better things to write about...

Like.... one of the things that popped into my mind pretty much right away when I thought about my "To Do List" (See! Doesn't that sound much less ominous than "Bucket List"?) was to go to Disneyland with Steven.

Spoiler! We went to Disneyland last week!

 I'm a big fan of Disney - yet, we'd only went once with the kids ... such a fun trip! They may feel a little deprived about that, but it was a deliberate decision to wait until they were old enough to really appreciate it. And we saw plenty of evidence this week of babies and toddlers being dragged around the park, crying and whining. I've decided that going to Disneyland with a baby is only a slightly better idea than going to Las Vegas with a baby. (Don't get me started on that...)

This time, The Planner in me came out (She's so annoying sometimes!), and I downloaded The Unofficial Guide to Disneyland 2015 and the app for my phone to check wait times for rides. I was sooooo prepared! Only my subconscious - or brain cancer - either one (You decide.) played a cosmic joke on me because in the last minute rush to pack the car for the airport, I LEFT MY PHONE AT HOME! Now, those of you who know me understand how bizarre this is. But it was such a blessing. It was really like I left The Planner at home, too, and I already said how annoying she can be. Plus, I think The Planner is becoming more and more unreliable. with the short term memory loss and stuff. (Sssssh! She might hear us, and we wouldn't want to hurt her feelings or anything...)

Honestly, I'm so glad I didn't have my phone there. I saw so many people looking through the lens of a phone or an ipad during the parade and fireworks, annoyed because people in front of them were blocking their shot. Put the damn thing down and watch it NOW! It's happening NOW! And who the hell is going to watch that video of the fireworks display later? It's not the same. You are in Disneyland! BE. IN. DISNEYLAND.

I confess that my phone is a very convenient, always available camera - so I have far fewer pictures than I normally would. My mom & dad gave me a Canon Rebel for a birthday present this month (Woot! Thank you!), but I am still learning how to use it. I stuck to "automatic" settings so that meant mostly daytime pictures outside. Part of that is because I'm not a scofflaw and when they say, "No flash photography", I listen! <eh hem!> ( You know who you are, Scofflaws!!!)

Waiting to explore the Pirates' Lair - Argh!

Ruh Roh! (I can hear my oldest daughter already saying, "You guys are such DORKS!"Yep! We let our Dork Flag fly freely!

Anyway, without the phone and the Planner, we were FREEEEEEEEEE!!!!! Free to just wing it! Well, not exactly because the brain cancer insisted on coming no matter what (BRAT! Way more annoying than The Planner), so we needed to make accommodations for it. What-ev. Life is about adaptation, isn't it?

And we're learning more and more about the BRAT and how to travel with it:
1) The BRAT gets tired, just like any toddler you would take to Disney. Except I can't take it out and put in a stroller, feed it treats, and yell at it when it has a meltdown - (which seems to be the strategy of many parents when their brats - I mean, sweet, lovely children  - have the expected meltdown in the mid-afternoon.) 2) The BRAT needs a lot of water. I mean, A LOT. We learned that keeping a close check on water intake was one key to success. 3) The BRAT needs to rest. And we need to listen to my body when it's saying, "Yo! Can we sit down a bit? Or go back to the hotel and lay by the pool and take a nappy, nappy? Thanks!" Finally, 4) My body needs calories to counteract the effects of the BRAT. I know that we walked a LOT. And we made sure we stopped and had a snack every hour or hour and 1/2. We even stopped at Whole Foods after we left the airport before we checked in to the hotel! Sure, we indulged in some off-program" food, but overall, we feel better when we eat better. (See, even though The Planner didn't make the trip, she left some helpful advice!)

The single best thing that we did was to suck it up and admit that I have a disability. The first day, we went into the City Hall and armed with a letter from my oncologist (which they didn't ask to see, FYI), I declared that I am battling brain cancer and the fatigue from my treatments (and probably the BRAT, too). So, I needed some accommodations. She checked to see if I needed a wheelchair (no), and then set me up with a program that allowed me to avoid those long lines. Thank you, Disney!  Anyone who has a disability knows that is a hard thing to do - to publicly declare that you aren't "normal" and can't do all the things that other people can do....that you used to do. But in the long run, it's better to just own it and focus on what you CAN do. It's way more fun. Trust me!

We rode about 3 - 4 rides each day and, the rest of the time just soaked in the ...well, I'll just say it, no matter how hokey it is.... the MAGIC of Disney. We all get to be children at Disneyland! And see the world through their eyes. Where else can I rock those ears with that bow?? The characters walk by and smile and wave. Princesses and Chip & Dale waved at ME...(or my general direction). I'm a big believer in whimsy, and

"Disney = Whimsy on Steroids." 

If Disney wants to use this as their new slogan, they're going to have to pay for it. <grin> That's gold, Baby, pure GOLD!

One of my favorite moments was when we were watching the new nighttime parade for the 60th Anniversary, and this little girl was right over Steven's shoulder yelling ...no...shrieking in his ear with excitement as she waved at each character on each float. "Ellllsssssaaaa! Elllsssaaaa! "Woooooodyyyyy!" Wooooooddddyyyyy!" Imagine wearing headphones and having that projected at full volume in your ears, and you'll begin to get the effect. (Note: this is probably way down on his list of favorite moments...) But she actually thought with all those lights and music and other shrieking children that Belle and Ariel and Mickey could hear HER. And in her heart, she went away with that memory.

My mom made me promise to go on "It's a Small World" and sing along.

Steven clearly loved that, too. <must be read in an extremely sarcastic voice>

I even made him continue another Fremer family tradition which is to pose next to a statue and imitate it as well as you can.

What do you think? How did he do? The guy on the right is way cuter than the guy on the left, though, don't you think?

He's such a good sport! And it was so fun surprising him with the picture from Splash Mountain. As we were about to go down the big dip, he said, "Put your hands up!" Little did he know that I had other plans...

I'm in the back, sneaking a kiss on his neck with my Minnie ears on.

I got to get a little something for Autumn Elizabeth to introduce her to The Magic, but I can't say what since I haven't given it to her yet. And I knew exactly what I wanted for my souvenir of this trip. I was so excited when Steven found it, I (almost) shrieked in his ear. With the Magic of Disney, I got to be a member of the Explorers' Club, too.

If you don't know the significance of this, that means that you've never seen "UP". And you need to stop what you're doing and  watch it - at least the first 10-15 minutes - RIGHT NOW! 

May we many more adventures together, Schmoopy!

The One in Which I Share (some) of my Hokey Playlist

Awkward hair - scar side #thisisreallife #braincancer mfbcfnw

I revealed in my last post that I'm slightly very hokey. I think I used to be embarrassed about that 'cause I would never be "cool", but I've long ago embraced my inner hokey-ness (Kiddies, I think I just made up that word, so don't use it and blame it on me. But you can tell people that you learned from ME that "cool" is not that important in life.) Hokey-ness is a secret ingredient that fuels my Ninja Powers, after all.

I've also admitted that I have a weakness for emotionally manipulative tunes. Most of my family looks at music in a whole different way.They dissect lyrics and have gigabytes of tunes on their computers. Let's just say that my playlists are NEVER played with anyone else in the car...okay, that's not exactly true. Sometimes Steven will tolerate them briefly.

So, they're really my driving or walking alone playlists. Many of them, I made when I was going through radiation treatment because they will pipe in your own music - which helped me a lot to remain calm and focused.  Like I said, now that I'm done with radiation, my playlists are pretty much for my solo walks or drives. I recently sneaked one in while driving with Steven.  I played the first three songs for Steven,  and he said, "What are you trying to do? Make me cry?" (For the record, I did make him cry, but he cries at commercials and stuff, so it wasn't on  purpose or a big triumph or anything.)

On my walk yesterday, I was listening to that same playlist, and  I thought I'd share those songs with you -- even though, yes, they're definitely not cool. They make me feel inspired and empowered.

 The first song is "Fight Song". I had seen a video posted online, and it inspired me to make a new playlist that I call "Cancer Fighting". You have probably heard this song on the radio, especially if you have a 'tween/teen girl in your house. But I don't, so this version was made during Nurse's Week by a Pediatric unit. It is indelibly associated with that for me instead of adolescent angst.

Not all the lyrics fit my situation, but I always turn the music up when it comes to the final chorus:

This is my fight song
Take back my life song
Prove I'm alright song
My power's turned on
Starting right now I'll be strong
I'll play my fight song
And I don't really care if nobody else believes
'Cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me
Now I've still got a lot of fight left in me

The second song always reminds me of the commercial/movement #likeagirl (shout out to H.S. friend, Allison Amon, & Chelsea Pictures for that one!) 

I'll hold my head high
I'll never let this define
The light in my eyes
Love myself, give it hell
I'll take on this world
Yes, I'll stand and be strong
No I'll never give up
I will conquer with love
And I'll fight like a girl

These first two songs speak to me, even though not all the lyrics "fit" my situation. Like many songs, they capture the essence of what I'm feeling. When I hear this one, I think, Fuck yea! Cancer doesn't define me! and I'll continue to #fightlikeagirl 

But Steven's eyes remained dry until song #3 came on. This one always reminds me of how lucky I am to have my Schmoopy in my life. Because I know he feels in his heart that he's "Gonna Love Me Through This".

 

When you’re weak, I’ll be strong
When you let go, I’ll hold on
When you need to cry, I swear that I’ll be there to dry your eyes
When you feel lost and scared to death,
Like you can’t take one more step
Just take my hand, together we can do it
I’m gonna love you through it.
And when this road gets too long
I'll be the rock you lean on
Just take my hand, together we can do it
I’m gonna love you through it.
I’m gonna love you through it.

(I don't know how long he lasted before Steven started crying because I was already reaching for tissues myself in the first verse.) It always reminds me of the first two weeks after my diagnosis and surgery. Our emotions were really raw and I was still having 8-10 focal seizures a day. I lay on my side in bed and I would signal to Steven when I felt another seizure  coming on. He knelt by my side and talked me through it, knowing just what I needed - tissues and a fan on my face - and his hand running across my head as he whispered, "You're doing great. Just breath deep...." 

He's been there every step of the way, though. We've been through tough times since then, and I imagine we'll face more tough time again. But I know he will always be there, loving me through it.

Hokey is okay sometimes, I think. So is crying. Thank you, Schmoopy, for being my Rock and loving me through this.You are definitely one of the other secret ingredients that fuel my Ninja Powers!

The One in Which I Talk About my New Goals

I know it's completely normal to feel fear when one is diagnosed with cancer. I've read it, heard it, and experienced it. What one fears is not the same for everyone. That's seems normal as well. I remember my friend, Jeanne, who recently passed from pancreatic cancer, expressed a lot of fear about the pain in the end. That is not the fear that I try to push to the dark recesses of my mind. Maybe I'm naive, but I believe there is enough modern medicine out there for me to avoid a lot of pain in the end. If I'm wrong, don't feel the need to set me straight. This is one of those situations where ignorance is truly bliss.

As much as I try to avoid it, I do have fear that bubbles up to the surface.  My fear is that I'm going to miss so many things in life by dying "young". REALLY young people who are reading this blog are thinking, "What?!?! Is she off her nut? She's 50 years old! That's not young!" But older people understand what I'm saying. I'm a mother of four children, adults (mostly): 28, 24, 22, and 20. But I've got so much of their lives to see. I've been married 25 lucky years to my Schmoopy, but I thought I had at least double that to fill our lives with memories. I fear missing the weddings, the births, the family gatherings at Game Nights, Thanksgiving and Christmas, trips with my Schmoopy...or just sitting out in the evening around a fire pit and talking and laughing...

I swear that my tumor must be near some area of my brain that controls emotions because I cry at the drop of a hat, and I can't seem to control it. I mean really CRY - the kind of crying where you can't even talk so that anyone can understand what you're saying. And I breathe deep when it starts to come on, thinking that I will get my words out before the waterworks start, but it's hopeless. I cry like that at some point on most walks with Steven. I used to apologize, but now he tells me it wouldn't feel like an official walk if I didn't cry at least once. I told you our walks are like my therapy!

So, know when I write about this subject, I'm a mess: tears streaming down my face and strangled sobs in my throat. #sorrynotsorry

<grabbing tissues and wiping my face dry>
<Deep Breaths>

When I was first diagnosed and (mostly) recovered from my surgery, and I decided that I was a Mother Fucking Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior! (Rawwr!) I took a bulletin board out of the garage and re-purposed it. I hung it up and thought about everything that I wanted to experience in the next 6 months - things that I was fighting for.

As cards and email and letters poured in from June's Warriors, I hung those up around the board and I regularly gazed at that corner as I was getting ready for the day.

(Kiddies, Here's a little tip for you: you gain a lot more time in your day if you shave - or lose- your hair. I must save 40 - 60 min. a day not having to fuss with my hair anymore.)

This weekend the family went down to watch Katherine graduate from UC Santa Barbara.  As I was waiting for Katherine to walk down the aisle for her commencement, I realized that this was the last event that I had pinned to my bulletin board. As I started to tear up, I tried to express this to my father and husband (whom I was sitting between), and after several attempts to talk through my blubbering tears, I got the message across. My father leaned over and gave me a big hug and kiss on the head. (A moment I wouldn't ever want to miss - see how that works?)

Both of them said the same thing: "Better get some new goals up there ASAP!" As soon as I got home from UCSB, I started my latest chemo cycle, so I'm not all that spry, but the more that I've been thinking about it, the more that this assignment seemed too pressing to wait until my chemo cycle was over on Friday.

Yesterday, I unpinned each card and message from all of you - reread them and smiled (yes, and cried - #freepass!), as well as my pictures of my goals and tucked them in a basket that I now have in my "meditation corner". The positive energy emanating from that basket must be off the charts!

By the time I finished that, I had to lie down, take some anti-nausea meds, and binge watch some more "Orange is the New Black" and nap. So, I woke up this morning with a blank bulletin board. That seemed like really bad karma, so I set to work importing and printing my new goals.

New board includes room for more goals as I think of them...

The first time I did this, I was afraid to go too far beyond 6 months. Why? I'm not sure. I guess that my prognosis was so shitty that I couldn't get my brain to dream beyond that. This time, I've gone into next year. My last goal up on the board is to attend Autumn Elizabeth's first birthday. But I think maybe I'm allowing the "F" word (FEAR - what did you think I was talking about?!) to interfere with my goals. And what do I really have to lose by planning for something in 2017, 2018? Wouldn't it be something if I were to witness Autumn's first dance at HER wedding?

April & Coffey's first dance - (Notice my parents in the background.)

A ninja warrior can dream, can't she? Yes, she can!

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

______________________________________________________________________

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 Reveal My Valentine's Gift

I've been following on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram as people (read: women) show/tell what their Valentine's Day Gifts were. I thought I'd share mine:

Okay, it's probably not a big secret at this point...

My Valentine's Day Gift(s) 2015

A Man Who...

• Stroked my hair back from my face and placed tissues under my chin as I rode out a strong focal seizure, whispering in my ear, "That's right. Relax. You're doing great..."
• Strode along the hospital hallways, then the neighborhood sidewalk, and The Hill - always at my pace, as we talked or not talked - but always held hands.
• Literally, talked me into breathing again when I had a full-on panic attack after taking a new medication.  (If any of you have had a panic attack in your life, you know scary that can be.)
• Was my voice when I could not be my own voice in doctors' meetings and social gatherings...
• And had the patience to listen when I started to find my own voice, and know when to talk and when NOT to talk (most of the time)
• Somehow manages to keep this boat afloat despite the rocky seas - bill gets paid, appointments are made, medications are refilled...
• Has stood by my side the last four months during the most challenging time in our lives -
• Doesn't focus on my freaky, semi-bald, Alien Crop Circle head, but instead looks into my eyes and says multiple times a day, "You know I love you....I mean, I really love you."

And I believe him. Because only a really, really special Valentine could gifts like that. And yes, I'm fully aware of how lucky I am.

My Schmoopy!

The One in Which I Explain How Brain Cancer Made Me a Hugger

June's Brain Cancer 101:

I am going to get a technical here in the beginning, so things will make more sense later on... Sorry! I won't charge you tuition or anything, so no worries about student loans, etc. And it ends with hugging, so it will totally be worth it. It you are really lame, and you want to skip to the hugging part, scroll down...

Here! This should tide you over:

One of my favorite hugging pictures: two of my girls in fake furs at H&M.

My tumor was on the motor strip of my brain. I also have/had some "weirdness" (obviously a highly technical term that you will have to google later) on my scans adjacent to this location, on my right temporal lobe. They (local neuro experts as well as the UCSF folks), aren't sure what exactly is going on there - it's "ambiguous" - but after two separate Tumor Boards reviewed it, we're treating is as a "secondary location". This actually makes sense, too, because seizures (my red flag indicator that led to my diagnosis) are more often associated with the temporal lobe than the motor strip. And it explains why my radiation treatment was pretty complicated  - for the physicists - not me! I just laid there and got zapped. It sucked, but it wasn't complicated... Oh, and why I have more than a "patchiness" to my hair loss as a result. Try: half of my head is bald; Steven shaves the other half about every 3 days or so. #superschmoopy

Here is a basic diagram of the brain, so you get an idea of what I'll be talking about:

 
First, let's look at the motor strip. (See below for detailed diagram).  The tumor was located around the area where the mouth produces speech: lips, jaw, tongue, etc.  BTW, this is one of the actual diagrams that the UCSF neurologist shared with us. I'm imagining that it's one of those visuals that they create for medical students to help they memorize all the shit they have to memorize.  I hope that's what it's for - because otherwise, it's primary purpose is to give people horrible nightmares?

Freaky looking, no?

 Looking at this - it seems pretty clear to me that my tumor was located around that creepy open-mouthed face because it is the actual articulation of some words that I had the most problems with immediately post-surgery. It also explains why my neurosurgeon and neurologist both had me go through the paces with showing that I had no weaknesses in movement or perceived sensation in my left side of the rest of my body - face, arm, hand, legs, etc. because if you follow logically up that motor strip, that would where the "deficits" would be located.

Hey, kiddies - A little lesson for you out there: the medical community likes to refer to losses in physical/cognitive abilities as "deficits". It sounds more clinical and less traumatic, I guess. FYI - We talked about possible "deficits" the day before my surgery, including significant weaknesses on the whole left side of my body.  Newsflash: despite my drugged up state, it didn't feel less traumatic to me. Nor was I less grateful when coming out of the surgery to realize that my left side of my body was fully functioning/strong.

The "weirdness" located on the temporal lobe explains the more subtle but annoying deficits in my speech - what I call fluency, but is more accurately referred to as "prosody, or the rhythm of one’s speech" (source: Right Temporal Lobe Functions) It appears to be getting better - with lots and lots of practice speaking, but you may notice it especially when I'm tired after a long day, etc.

[For those of you that have read this far, you might want to apply for some college credit units for your effort. Of course, there will be a quiz later to prove that you were actually paying attention.]

I've been reading more about this temporal lobe stuff because of the follow-up MRI I had done last week. The good news is they saw shrinkage in the primary area AKA the motor strip where the tumor was resected (Yay!). However, they are still picking up some "weirdness" in that secondary location. It's a wait-and-watch kind of thing...which is not my strong suit. And with all this time on my hands, I'm doing a little poking around, learning more about the ...

RIGHT TEMPORAL LOBE:
I thought this was a really interesting thing I found on the interwebs:
Sometimes damage to part of the temporal lobe can cause personality changes such as humorlessness, extreme religiosity, and obsessiveness. People may have an overwhelming urge to write.  The Merk Manual Home Edition.

I haven't noticed a loss of humor or more religious tendencies. One could argue that it would be hard to gauge my "obsessiveness" on an objective scale in general...But an "overwhelming urge to write". That's pretty cool. Maybe that explains my interest in blogging? I've always liked to write...I just didn't have the time that I have now! (I have a LOT more time on my hands...especially when I wake up at 3:45 a.m.! DOH!)
 
****THE HUGGING PART****

 I have noticed a personality change in me that is not indicated here, though...

I'm a hugger! Why would I suddenly become a hugger? Don't get me wrong. I've always liked hugs. But I've never been what one would call a "Hug Initiator".

I googled that shit, and the first several links were about tree huggers (#googlefail) - but I did find this blog about Wanting to be a Hugger, though, which I found really interesting. It has a central Christian religious theme, but even if you're not religious, you might find it thought-provoking. I can totally get behind the catchy message: "More like Jesus. Less like a Jerk".

I'm pretty sure, though, that becoming a Hugger has got nothing to do with my tumor location or the various diagrams of my brain. 
 <eh hem>
Question from the audience: But June!! Why did you make us read all that stuff about your brain and tumor???? 
June: Quit yer whining! Hey, you learned some good stuff today, right? You may even be inspired to go back to medical school for all I know. You're welcome.

I just wanted to explain - if you noticed all the hugging - I didn't want you to chalk it up to brain damage.  June the Hugger is about an emotional transformation, not a physical one. 

If you were at this week's Livermore Fundraiser Event, you saw June the Hugger in full force.
Have I met you before? Doesn't matter! Imma gonna give you a hug!

Here is a picture I blatantly stole from someone FB account. Thank, Irene!

I wish I had more pictures to post of the event, but I was too busy hugging! Oh, and ROCKIN' my Mother Fuckin' Ninja Warrior Purple Hair! #mfbcfnw

Wednesday morning, before the event, Steven and I went for a walk, and we talked (and cried) about how overwhelming and humbling it was to have so many people in our lives who are so good and kind and generous...and we talked specifically about this blog and how some people tell us that they are inspired by our journey...

But I told Steven, they've got it all wrong because THEY inspire ME. In my mind's eye, I see my arms wide open, and YOU lifting me up with your words and your prayers and your thoughts.... And all I want to do when I see you is wrap my arms around you all and say, "Thank You!" and "I love you!"

THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU!!!!

And I'm going to do it every chance I get. Consider this your warning!

Did Brain Cancer make me a Hugger? Hell, yes! And I'm the better for it. Who'd a thunk?

______________________________________________________________________________

P.S. I'm going to do a whole blog about the Livermore Fundraising Event soon, but I'm begging anyone out there that has pictures to share. I'm serious when I say that I basically have none. I was too busy hugging people. If you're willing to share, please email them to me at: junemirassou@gmail.com.  Thank you!!!

The One in Which I Walked The Hill Alone for the First Time Post-Dx

Yesterday, I strapped on my running shoes and went for a walk by myself up Communications Hill! What's the big deal, you say? Well, let me start from the beginning...

The walking part isn't new - I've been walking with Steven almost every day since I was released from the hospital - even before, I guess. After my surgery  - (actually, I think after almost any surgery?) -  they recommend that you get up and start moving/walking ASAP. Steven and I started with the hallways of the hospital, wheeling the IV cart with us. 

I don't have a really clear memory of the walking in the hospital hallways...I wonder why....

Once we got home from the hospital, we started doing a mini-loop around our block...then expanding a little more...and a little more...until we had a 2 mile flat loop. We didn't break any land speed records, but we started a routine.

As part of our new routine, we always hold hands - partly because he's my Schmoopy, and we were are going through a pretty challenging time...but also, I wasn't sure how steady I was with all the meds I was on. And also, if you remember, I was still having focal seizures on the left side of my face multiple times a day. At first, we would stop and stand there, Steven holding me close while I breathed through the seizure. But it got to the point where I was walking right through them - pointing to my face so Steven knew why I had suddenly stopped responding in the conversation.

Then we get hooked up with Dr. Awesome McAweseomesauce who found the right cocktail of meds to stop my focal seizures all together.
<insert angel choir singing>
....and I continued to heal and recover from my surgery, getting stronger every day....
until one day, I brazenly suggested that we "do The Hill" - which used to be a regular part of my fitness program. Woot!

Communications Hill is a little bump, really, that is about 1 mile from our house and a mecca for fitness enthusiasts because it's got this set of steps that draw exercise fanatics (and assorted other folk, apparently) from throughout the valley - much to the consternation of the neighborhood! Whoops!

This is the "bottom" set of stairs. There's another set above this that leads to the top of The Hill.

You don't need to "do the stairs" to get the benefit of The Hill. It's a lovely 1-1/2 mile loop with a max. elevation of ~350+ feet (I googled that shit.) that gives you expansive views of South San Jose and the Santa Cruz Mountains.

So, Steven and I expanded our routine to go up and down The Hill.

Baldy Couple on the Hill!

 Of course, sometimes, it kicked my butt. And I had to take a long nap in the afternoon. That's when I realized that I couldn't do the Hill every day. Especially once I started radiation/chemo treatment. I listened to my body - and some days were flat loop days, some days were Hill days, and some days were, "Hell, no! I'm going to nap for 2 hours!" days.

Kiddies, Hill Days are the best days. DUH!

I have to add this seemingly insignificant little detail because it matters later. (Kiddies, this is a literary device that's called "foreshadowing".) Walking The Hill from our house involves a nice flat mile in a neighborhood followed by an absurdly long traffic light wait to cross over to access The Hill.

Have you ever thought about how differently people may feel about these images? And WHY?

 I'm going to let you in on a little secret: Y'all now by now that I'm a Type-A/Rule Following Kind of Gal.  Steven is...how shall I put it? A Scofflaw? Now, that's not very flattering, is it?  Let's say that he is way more of Risk Taker than me. And he thought it was ridiculous that I would WAIT at the corner for the Happy Little Person Light to indicate that we could cross the street. Even if we arrived just as it turned to numbers counting down, and there were no cars coming.

I had to have a serious conversation with him to get to understand the underlying fear that I had about it. I'm a person with: 1) a seizure disorder and 2) brain cancer who is 3) in a healing process and figuring out what I can and cannot do. I didn't KNOW if I could cross that street (4 lanes) in 22 seconds, and I didn't want the pressure of a zooming oncoming car - even if there were none in view -  to add to my stress. After my explanation, he did understand and we wait...and wait...and wait until the Happy Little Person Light says it was safe to cross. Phew! Back inside my comfort zone!

And that's pretty much how it's gone for the last 3 months - daily walks with my Schmoopy, hand-in-hand, talking about Life, Love, and the Pursuit of Happiness...and oh, yea...cancer. I don't think I've managed to take a single one of these walks without crying a little bit. It's like therapy. And both Steven and I have said, in a strange way, our relationship has never been as strong as it is right now.

I'm currently done with my initial treatment of radiation/chemo and awaiting the results of my first post-treatment MRI. Still definitely recovering - I have stronger days and tired days, but overall, feeling very healthy. And Steven is feeling confident enough to get back into the swing of things at work, etc.

Yesterday, he had a club release at the winery - a long day which meant no walk for us unless we did early in the morning. Which we didn't. So, I put on my big girl panties, and I said, "Self, today is the day that we're walking alone. And you know what, Self? I'm feeling pretty ballsy, so let's do The Hill!"

And that's all it took. I was a little nervous at first, because it felt so strange to be walking without Schmoopy right by my side. But the more I walked, the more giddy I became. And guess what? When I came to the internably long traffic light - the Happy Little Person Light had turned to numbers...and guess what I did! I picked up my pace and actually jogged a few steps to get across before the numbers were all counted down. I giggled, imagining Schmoopy saying, "Well, look at you, you Scofflaw!"

I chugged up that hill, and took in the view, said, "Hello!" to all the freakish dedicated fitness peeps on the stairs, and stopped to take a few pictures at the top.

I looked like this:

But I felt like this:

And because I was so restrained and didn't curse in this whole entry...

[Do "shit", "ballsy" and "butt" count"? Nah!]

 I feel like it is entirely appropriate for me to say that I am imagining that I'm shouting here:

Carpe Fucking Diem, my friends! CARPE. FUCKING. DIEM!

 _____________________________________________________________________________

P.S. I'm not giving up my therapy walks with Schmoopy, but it sure feels good to regain some of my independence and confidence.  Next up: getting my Driver's License back!

The One in Which I Decide that Caregivers are Superheroes - and Steven needs a Name!

It's been a surprisingly challenging week, this week, the week after my initial treatment of chemo/radiation has ended. There was a certain comfort to knowing exactly what our schedule would be the past six weeks of treatment. We were in a routine, and, it felt like we were actively doing something to TREAT my condition. Now, I'm supposed to "rest and recover", gradually allowing my brain to heal from the ...let's face it - trauma that it's been through. All while I watch the world around me swirl into a frenzy of activity related to the holiday season. And trying NOT to project into the future and think about the possible results of my next MRI in January....

Add into the mix that I have had to slow down due to the fatigue of the final seven days of radiation "boosts" and the cumulative effects on my speech, timed perfectly with Steven's semi-regular issues with his ears/hearing. You see, his ears get all plugged up from time to time ... which are not that great anyway. I know wives say that their husbands claim they can't hear them, but Steven has actually been tested. And the results indicate that his ability to hear high and low sounds are fine, but the range of the regular human speaking voice is compromised in one of his ears. Doesn't that sounds like a SUPER combination with someone who is experiencing speech challenges and has to repeat herself anyway to be understood?! 

Let's just say that there have been a few moments of .... "frustration" and leave it at that. Okay, I may have been a  little snippy with Steven this week at times when he asked me to repeat myself. But damn it! He's never snapped back! I would say that he has the patience of Job, but then I would feel compelled to Google that shit and fill you in on the origin....

 But I can confidently say (without any further research) that he has much more patience than Steve Jobs had - and I think all of us can agree on that without even having to look it up on the interwebs, or read/watch one of his many biographies.  (And I don't even have to throw my Apple employee friends under the bus on this one. You're welcome.) I'm not a hater. I'm just saying that's not one of his "defining characteristics", shall we say?

But I'm not talking about Steve Jobs. 

I'm talking about Steven Mirassou. 

My Schmoopy. 

My Rock. 

and now my Caregiver.

"Caregiver" - that's the term that's widely used to describe the friend or family designee who is primarily responsible for the patient in cases of serious illness. It's a term that seems so inadequate. Today, I simply want to honor him and all the caregivers out there, who took on or are taking on that role of caring for a critically ill family member/friend. This is my attempt, in some small way, to public acknowledge and express my gratitude, knowing in my heart and soul that I will fail miserably at meeting the depth and breadth deserved.

Almost immediately after my prognosis, I identified myself as a Ninja Warrior. It embodied the strength, power, and agility I thought I'd need to begin and continue this fight. And it's served me well so far.

But I've thought long and hard about how to identify Steven - and other caregivers. There is a certain symmetry to calling them Samurai, but I don't think that quite matches...and I don't want to be lazy. Certainly, the Samurai role was to serve another, and they were badass warriors. And they had to do so more honorably and with far more constraints than a ninja warrior (no #freepasses). But, at least for centuries of history, Samurai were chosen from the upper echelon and drafted into those positions as public servants. (Kiddies, if you're actually interested in a long, drawn-out history of samurais..you know what to do!)

Plus, the samurai uniform isn't nearly as a cool as the ninja warrior, no?

Ninja vs. Samurai uniform - It isn't even a contest! Come on, now!

But, the real problem is that the Samurai title doesn't really capture this: CHOICE. 
I'd be willing to bet that all the caregivers out there would say that they had/have no choice. They would say, "Of course, I have to do all the difficult tasks that I have in front of me." But that is simply not true. They volunteer for that role and can duck out at any point. And that's part of the specialness of any caregiver - that they see no choice when others do. They CHOOSE to stay and slog through the hardest shit, keeping it together... Many times - MOST times - trying to continue to do whatever it is that they were doing before and adding on probably 99% of the things that their "charge" used to be able to contribute (at least in the beginning)...

And I'm talking mentally, physically, spiritually, financially...in too many ways to imagine.

It's exhausting even to think about it.

So, what do you call someone who sees someone else in pain, in need of support...and it's clear that it's not a one time deal - that they are making a committment...and they rush in instead of back away? What do you call someone who agrees to step in, stand side-by-side, through it all, no matter what?

Isn't that the definition of a hero? ....or is it a superhero? (Now THAT'S something that's worth googling.) Okay, here goes...according to Cambridge Dictionaries Online:

hero
: a person admired for bravery, great achievements, or good qualities

superhero
: a character in stories or movies who has special powers, such as the ability to fly, that are used for fighting evil or helping people
: is also a person whose actions or achievements are far greater than what people expect

 Hmmmm...both would work nicely in this situation, wouldn't they? But I'm going with SUPERHERO!  Because caregivers definitely have special powers in my book. and they definitely rise above in their actions and achievements far greater than what people have any right to expect.

Plus...Superheros get cool pseudonyms. If I get to call myself a Mother Fuckin Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior (#mfbcfnw), then Steven HAS to have at least an equally badass and cool name ...and hashtag! DUH!

Let's see....

• Super Schmoopy is TRUE, but doesn't sound badass enough.
• Bald Hottie is also TRUE, but that's just a superficial observation, isn't it?

I think I need your help! Submit your suggestions in the comments below or Facebook, Twitter, email, or text them to me, we'll put it to a vote. Together, we'll come up with the perfect Super Hero name and hashtag for my Rock, my Schmoopy, my Caregiver! Submission deadline: Sunday, Dec. 21st!!!

P.S. Wine Man has already been used...(Halloween 2010) - Sorry, Schmoopy, but it was too good to pass up!

 Special love and admiration going out there to all the Caregivers/Superheroes out there today and everyday! 

P.S. Sorry for being so snippy this week, Steven! 

You are my Love and my Light and my own personal Superhero 

(even when you're deaf as a doorknob).