The One in Which I Tell Y'all About the Relay for Life in Livermore

Team picture (actually at the end of the event) Theme: pajamas! Mine say: "Lazy Days, Ninja Nights" Rawwr!

Livermore Relay for Life, 2015

A few months back, Kate Gazzuolo (part of our SKW family) sent me an email asking if I was interested in joining their Relay for Life team benefiting the American Cancer Society this year. They've been doing it for about 5 years  - her immediate family and several members of the Steven Kent Winery Family. She totally understood if I was not up to it, but they wanted me to know that they had changed the team name in my honor from "Wine Girls" to "June's Wine Girl Ninja Warriors". (Have I mentioned how much the Steven Kent Winery Family ROCKS?  Probably not enough! Well, they ROCK!) I told her that I would love to join the team, raise some money, and play it by ear about how much I could actually walk on that day. Done deal! 

  

Katie Gazzuolo - Our Team Captain, and Cindy Turchino - Tasting Room Manager & Professional Pirate

I set up my page on the American Cancer Society website and solicited donations - and once again, family and friends - June's Warriors - humbled me with their generosity and support. <grabs tissues> [note to self: buy stock in Kleenex] Big Ninja Warrior kisses & hugs!!!

I had never participated in a Relay for Life event (I know many of those Warriors out there have - so forgive me if I bore you by describing some of the details - at least for this one.). The first thing I did was check in. If you are a Survivor (Yay, me!), you got a stick with a sign saying how long you've been a survivor. The two survivors in front of me said with confidence "37 years"...then "40 years". When it was my turn, the young girl who was volunteering to write on the signs looked expectantly at me. "um...9 months." She paused a moment, looked at the adult seated next to her for guidance - who sweetly just gave her a reassuring nod, a signal as if to say: "Well, write that down, honey!" I thought I was going to win a prize for being the least amount of time as I looked at the Survivor Signs around me, but then the beautiful Linda Santos and Sandy Casey showed up. Her sign said, "8 months". Dammit! I don't even win THAT prize? Well, as it turned out, neither of us would have won that prize (Kiddies -I'm totally making this up. There is NO prize for that distinction. I have to be honest.  I just don't want you to be bitterly disappointed if you ever go to one of these events and have just been diagnosed or something.) Anyway, we spotted a man with "7 months" a little later on. But many more inspiring signs with decades of survival!

I love Steven & Sandy's beauty pageant sashes for being Caregivers! At least Sandy has the pageant stance down!

The Relay isn't really a "relay" in the truest sense of the word. At least one person from the team has to be out on the track, walking laps, at all times for the 12 hours, but there's no baton passed or anything. We had some lovely volunteers that came by to help and walk some laps for us - Thank you so much!!! I even had a former student come up in the middle of the night to volunteer! I'm ...really speechless about this. But I could cry some more if I weren't out of tissues....We love you!!! and NEEDED you! 

Especially since some people on our team got involved in an hour or two of playing a "cornhole" game...which apparently means something completely different to most people than it did to me. I always called that game Beanbag Toss (throwing a beanbag into a hole in a board). "Cornhole"? Well...Google that Shit or use your imagination, but that is NOT what I thought that meant. Come on! I know I'm not the only one out there...There were themes for all the laps - which my team captain assured me was not necessary - but I am actually a lover of themes [Let's just say "hokey" has been used in a sentence about me more than once.] and chose ones that I wanted to participate in...especially the Super Hero one. Hello??? Who doesn't want to dress like a super hero? Apparently, 99.9% of the participants. But I wore my Ninja Warrior costume with pride!

That's right! Don't fuck with me, Cancer! 'Cause you don't know who you're dealing with! Ninjas are stealthy like that!

In addition to the funds we raised online, each booth had raffle items and other ways to make money. Our team had this beautiful basket with a wine tasting package of local wineries, as well as a table of used books.

Notice Steven in the background (look for the bald head), "working hard", reading one of the books he found on the table. That's alright. Caregivers deserve breaks for sure! Love you, Schmoopy!  Xoxoxo

The team also had a bunch of karate boards with CANCER written on them for people to karate chop CANCER.

Sharyn Bell, karate chopping Cancer's ass while Katie bravely holds the plank.

The other theme time that I really wanted to be a part of was the Luminarias. People decorate paper bags with names of treasured loved ones that have passed away or people currently Warriors living with Cancer. They light the bags along the track (with glow sticks) at dark and you walk along, reading the names and reflecting on how many people that Cancer has touched.  It's very powerful when you see them all lined up, each representing a father, brother, son, mother, sister, daughter...[You know what, Cancer? You suck! #sorrynotsorry]

Ninja Carol honored me with this luminaria. So sweet! 

 I had ordered my bag online for Jeannie Mullins - I didn't realize that we could decorate our own, so a volunteer did it ahead of time. It's a little sloppy, but Jeannie would understand...she taught 2nd graders, after all!
Thank you to my wonderful team/family for inviting us to be a part of this!
And our little but mighty team raised over $6,608!  The whole event raised: $136,458.98

Disclaimer: Almost all of the photos in this blog post have been stolen downloaded from someone else's Facebook page. Sharyn Bell, the Gazzuolo family, Cindy Turchino... thank you for being such good photographers and recording these precious moments. I have found that, since my diagnosis, I forget to take pictures because it distracts me from being IN THE MOMENT. Maybe it's the cancer. Maybe it's the sense of urgency to be present? Which is kind of the same thing, if I think about it...Whatever. I'm using my #cancercard to justify stealing other people's stuff. k? #freepass

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 Describe the Family Holiday with "New Normal June"

Warning: I'm gonna write a lot and then reward you with some of the most adorable pictures you've ever seen. Trust me. It'll be worth it. Carry on! 
I've taken a full-week off from writing this blog - a deliberate decision to be "in the present" as much as possible and soak up the experience of being able to be with my whole family together at one of the my favorite place on earth...

Yes, well, obviously "The Beach".... (You don't get any points for knowing that. Sorry, Hermoine!)

But more specifically, Capitola, CA. This is the way you usually see it in brochures and stuff, but it's so much more than this.

The distinctive colorful view of Capitola Village

It's one of those places that you don't really even want to tell people about because then it will be even more crowded when you go.

Capitola is a mere 35 - 40 minute drive from our house in San Jose. I think it's a natural phenomenon that folks don't manage to go to their favorite local places nearly enough. But after my diagnosis and treatment in the last 3 months, my family rallied together and said, "What should we do for Christmas because we want to to do it together."

The planning involved not just my husband and my 4 children plus Son-in-Love, but my sister, Kathleen, (and her daughter's family), brother, John, (with his sig. other, Condee), and my father and mother.
Shout out: Mom & Dad were instrumental financially in making this grand gathering become a reality, and we are so very grateful! Airline tickets had to purchased and two full units had to be rented - one had to accommodate dogs! - and at peak, we were expecting 14 adults and 2 small children. And a partridge in a pear treeeeeeeee.....

The "Normal June" (which I shall begin to call the "Old Normal June") would have relished this task - full of moving parts, plans, and lists... Who will stay where? What extra supplies/beds will we need? Menus, grocery lists...it's a Type A's version of heaven, I guess.

But based on the physical impact of the last few weeks of my initial radiation/chemo treatment, it became clear that someone OTHER than me was going to have to handle the rental properties. I was not up to the challenge, and I had the good sense to say, "Please take charge of this!" - and so, Steven & John made that part happen in a flurry of internet and phone negotiations with the long-distance help of Mom & Dad, of course. Done.

As I recovered from my fatigue, I swung into Old Normal June-mode and started sending out emails with logistics, loose schedules, and menus. Google Docs were made and Evernote notes were tagged...and I thought I "was back" - I had this handled - with the help of Daughter April, who did a great job of updating things as plans solidified.

But the reality is, once we got there - things kept changing...with so many variables and people, my plans often were way off target. The good news - and it was really, really good news! - was that both Katherine and Sara were able to stay the whole time - which was not the plan in the beginning. The bad news is that every change meant I needed to adjust The Plan. And I got completely stressed out.

At the heart of it? Lack of control? Fear of disappointing the family because I couldn't handle it? Projecting in the future...fear that my New Normal June might not be up to the task anymore? Who is this New Normal June, and who invited her? Will she be sticking around, or is this a temporary thing???

Those of you that have been following my blog are probably staring at the screen right now slack-jawed - or yelling at me through it: "Have you learned nothing this past three months?" "What about all this poppycock about letting stuff go and knowing what really matters?

 I know. I know. I'm still a Ninja Warrior-in-Training, I guess. Or it's one of the things you never really master? I have no idea. All I know was...

About the fifth day, I had a little meltdown. Eyes turned toward me, asking what the plan was...when were we leaving for the next event. And I just broke down. And released the responsibility. I took control by saying, "I don't want to be in control. I CAN'T be in control." And it was really hard, and I cried, and then...you know what? The world didn't stop spinning. The family rallied, and everyone picked up the ball and ran with it.

Kiddies, I'm happy to say that this Ninja-in-Training was able to right her thinking and focus again on what really matters... And I don't need to tell you that when you do that...

The Magic Happens.

Like this:

FAMILY...2nd, 3rd and 4th Generation 

And family...2nd Generation Fremer Siblings

and family...1st and 2nd Generation Fremer Family

and Family...2nd and 3rd Generations - The Mirassou/Coffey Family (plus "the Bean")

The planned and posed moments were spectacular, 

but so were the unanticipated and unexpected gatherings. 

Maybe more so?

Daily walks along the water with Steven and the doggies - FYI: Capi (left) is named after Capitola

Tiger hat and beanie to keep our baldy heads warm in the morning chill

Goofy Brothers-in-law bonding

And...

Mom & Son swaying to '80's Pop music

Extra time with Sara thanks to coworkers covering holiday shifts...

Smiles and laughter and extra days with Katherine with April practicing her mommy skills!

Morning gatherings on the patio after our walks

Alone time with Seestor - who travelled for 2 days for basically a two day visit! 

Condee and one of the happiest boys you'll ever meet.

Matt & Dad - Multi-generational meetings and conversations

Siblings

and of course, Schmoopy Love!

Getting together the Family is work and complicated  - and yes, unpredictable, 

but there is no doubt that... it is worth it. 

Because it is MAGICAL. 

And just a thought from your in-house MFBCFNW-in-training: 

maybe the fact that it's not easy is part of what makes it magical?

The One in Which I Start my Last Week of Treatment and Talk about HOPE

Last Friday seemed like it's been a tipping point for me in my treatments. I mentioned that I started my "boosts" on Thursday, and I was wiped out in the afternoon, with a headache and slowed down speech. The doctor increased my dosage of steroids on Friday and cautioned me against pushing myself too hard. When he heard about our daily 3 mile walk up Communications Hill, the radiologist's eyebrows went a little wonky. They want me to exercise as I feel up to it, but not go too crazy. Moderation? Oh, yea! That's totally me! (not.) But I'm trying to balance my longer term goals with my recovery. Pssst! Hint: Recovery comes first! And I'm pretty sure my radiologist knows more about this stuff then I do....

Sure enough, I woke up feeling drained and spent most of Saturday in bed, nestled under blankets and reading online/watching Netflix. (Query: Is it possible to get to the END of Netflix?)

They say a little exercise can actually combat the fatigue, so I went on a little, leisurely 2 mile flat loop walk around the neighborhood with Steven in the late afternoon - No Hill!

And I was feeling better by Sunday morning.
<insert superhero sound effect here>
I made juice for all of us, walked Communications Hill with Steven, and even made lemon bars for "the guys" in the afternoon...Then I spent the better part of the late afternoon/evening in bed before having a fitful sleep (probably a side effect of the increased steroids). I may need to back off the Communications Hill workout - at least until the end of this week. What was that word again? Moderation. moderation....I'll keep trying...

Side note: someone responded on Facebook about this article about Communications Hill saying that they didn't think that it was actually the name of the hill - but rather something that I had just made up. Haha! I guess it would make sense because that's where Steven & I do a lot of talking...but if you read the article, I guess people do a lot of...<eh hem> "communicating" - and other things -  up there, too, that the residents don't like very much. Doh!

See, I was going to insert the obvious Clint Eastwood, "Get off my lawn" picture, but it was too cute to pass up!

As I've mentioned already, as my initial 6-week treatment is ending, it's time to switch into the "Now What?" mode. For 6 weeks, I had it planned all out for me, and the path was really clear. So, in reaching back out into the interwebs and reading about Long Term Survivors. I stumbled on a document from The National Coalition for Cancer Survivorship called, "Self-Advocacy: A Cancer Survivor's Handbook" (a very good read if you or someone you know is living with cancer). But this lead me to another document that I've been mulling over in my mind:

"YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO REMAIN HOPEFUL" <--- click for document!

It was published in 2008, so maybe there's a newer version, but this one is free to read online, and I felt like it said so many things that I've been thinking and feeling, I wanted to share it with you. It's related to cancer survivorship, but I think it could be relevant to anyone in a very challenging situation.

As you can probably see from the more serious nature of my blog this past week, I'm definitely going through a transition period. Steven and I discussed yesterday how hard it is to remain optimistic in a world that can be so cynical and pessimistic. So, it really hit me when I got to this part of the article that makes a clear distinction between: wishing, optimism, and HOPE.  I'll leave you to read the details if you're curious.  
Aside: Don't you hate when you go to a presentation or professional development and someone just reads the words from the PPT slides??? Uh...thanks, but I can read for myself. Do you have anything new to add to the discussion???
P.S. There are a lot of good quotes about HOPE in there, though, if that's any incentive.

Despite my drugged up state in the hospital before and after my surgery, one of the few things that I remember was meeting my neurosurgeon, oncologist, and radiologist and all of them using the word "hope"and "hopeful" repeatedly. Whatever they were saying to me was probably very deep and meaningful - and I'm sure Steven understood it - but what I was mostly thinking is:

"Whoa! This is trippy!"

So,  I hadn't thought that much about HOPE as a concept until now.


Okay, I said I wasn't going to read from the article and I was going to let you read it yourself...and I swear, I'm not usually a liar, but this is so good....so much better than I could have said it:

Hope is “mental willpower plus waypower for goals.” Willpower, in this definition is “the driving force to hopeful thinking.” It is a sense of mental energy that helps move a person toward a goal. Waypower, the second component in the hope equation, is the mental capacity used to find a way to reach your goals. It reflects the mental plans or road maps that guide hopeful thought.

That sounds like another Good Will Hunting type of equation, doesn't it? I'm no genius, but the main part I get out of it is: HOPE is more than just wishing that something good will happen or expecting that it will happen (being optimistic), but HOPE is directly tied in with positive beliefs, goal setting, and a sense of self-empowerment...(plus a huge dose of adaptation on the side) <-- I added that last part. So, sue me. #freepass

What struck me the most in my first read of this article is the idea that "Hope is individualistic," -  that the way your hope develops is dependent on your family culture..."and it important to realize family differences with regard to hope."  huh. So, of course, I start thinking about the family that I grew up and what hope meant to us.... and the family we have now and what hope means to us... Newsflash: I could write an entire book on that, and this post is already ridiculous long! Sorry! So just FYI - I'm just opening up a dialogue about this...

I was deeply influenced by my own family's sense of HOPE. And I think that Steven and I have passed that along to our own children. We were instilled with the belief that if you set goals and work hard, you can usual attain them. (As long as the goal were realistic. It doesn't even have to be likely. It could be highly unlikely. For example: Anyone of us could have president of the U.S. But we didn't encourage the idea of hoping you could be a unicorn - at least after a certain age of childlike wonder.)

Bottom line: We were deeply steeped in a sense of self-empowerment. And I believe we've passed these beliefs on to our own children.

Big ah-ha moment for me: I've had plenty of willpower (I'm a Mother Fuckin Brain Cancer Fighting Ninja Warrior, after all) - throughout my life and during this shitty two months -  but this transition period is about tapping into the "waypower". The good news is that I've used "waypower", too, to reach my goals -  to create training schedules to run marathons and half-marathons, go back to school and get my teaching credential in 2003 (with four kids), etc.

But I've never applied it to this situation. I think this time, I'm not going to be able to do it alone. I'm going to need the help of my family, friends, and medical team, It's scary as hell because there's no clear path, and Steven and I are going to have to make decisions without clear right or wrong answers. Hint: if you think that you have the "right answer" you probably shouldn't share with us - at least with that filter -  because we know enough to know that there isn't yet a CURE AKA "right answer". 

But we have to "develop mental plans and road maps" to guide us toward our goal:

to be a 

Long Term Survivor.

This is one of the great quotes from the article that I'll leave you with:

No matter what befalls me, I feel commanded to choose life. You cannot give in to despair. You may hit bottom, but even then you have a choice. And to choose life means an obligation not merely to survive, but to live. ~ Nessa Rapoport

The One in Which I Just Try to Recognize that Life is Happening...NOW!

This was my day yesterday.  I've included some lessons along the way that I'm learning every day...just for you, kiddies!

MY MORNING
I woke up early this morning, and instead of writing for my blog, I wrote an email to my children. I had mentioned yesterday that I was working on a page about my Personal "Now What?" after my initial treatment is done. I will still post something eventually, but I felt like I should share that with them privately first, rather than on my blog. Especially because my "Now What" is all about them!  The Cliff Notes version: I am determined to live purposefully (PLAN) to make sure we spend as much time together as possible. And in those precious moments, just focus on that, and not worry about what may or may not get in the way of our plans down the road.  

Kiddies, here's been a huge lesson for me: We can (and should) PLAN for life, but we can't CONTROL it.

After a long stint on the laptop, I did my juicing routine. I juiced some crisp cucumber with some carrots, several leaves of spinach, a little ginger for a zing, and one small apple. It was surprisingly delicious, as the vegetable juicing combinations can be. Really!

Side note: Okay, kiddies! I was going to describe things as organic, but it got really repetitive. So, assume that everything I am eating is organic whenever possible from now on. That was one of the biggest take-aways from our first meeting with the UCSF neuro-oncologist in October. 

Another lesson I've learned: When it comes to cancer - and just your health in general -  eating organic is really important.
Once I was done, my brother made  juice with organic radishes and organic apples (see, doesn't it already sound repetitive?) The combo also was surprisingly good.  Go, figure!  I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but my older brother, John, is staying in town for a while. We were born only ~15 months apart, so we don't actually fit the definition of "Irish Twins", but we were pretty darn close.

Aren't we the cutest things? I'm not sure if he is making a peace sign or doing some dorky Star Trek thing, though...

John lives in Boston, MA with his lovely significant other, Condee, but they agreed that it was the right thing for him to come out here for a lengthy stay to be closer to me after my prognosis. Fortunately, he has the kind of job that he can do pretty much anywhere (as long as he has a landline - which is proving to be more challenging to find here in Silicon Valley than one would think). I am so grateful to him for having rearranged his life in order for this to happen and so grateful to Condee for being willing to accept his absence for a while.

I got to spend a lot of quality time with my older sister, too, the week after my surgery. Although I think I was a lot less perky then. Sorry, Sis! <smooches!> See you at Christmas time!!!

Spring 2013, Disney Princess Half Marathon with Seestor

I know not everyone has the ability to do this! Alert: This is a NO GUILT Zone!

 Kiddies, I'm just saying that there's something special about being together with someone so much that you lose that urge to fill every silence with words because you just don't feel like you have enough time to say everything you want to say.... and you are in ordinary situations when magical, spontaneous moments can happen. Bottom line:  Keep your family close to you if at all possible.

Oh, and just so you get this straight, I have no one to blame but myself for this situation. 22+ years ago, Steven and I moved 3,000 miles across the country, and it devastated my family. They tried to teach us that lesson long ago, but we didn't listen! (Darn kids!) I didn't really think my parents would ever forgive him for "moving me away" ...but I told him just yesterday that I think he's come a long way towards redemption as they've seen what a #ROCKSTAR he's been through this shit.

Speaking of the #rockstar AKA #baldhottie - It's been raining...I mean, like, REALLY raining here in San Jose (YAY!) , but Steven and I went out for our walk up Communications Hill anyway. I had gotten a brand new wool hat from amazon yesterday (with a  soft, silky interior - mmmmmm) to warm me up without irritating the bald, zappitied parts of my scalp. And Steven thoughtfully bought me some gloves at the store (awww!). We were toasty warm even despite the wind at the top. We talked about life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness - you know, the usual chit-chat!

Gratuitous picture of piggy in rain boots. (Don't be so serious all the time!)

Kiddies, I have already said that it is the daily connections that matter. These walks are the highlight of both our days. But here's a new lesson for you: You CAN walk/run in the rain if you have some good gear on. That's something we know instinctively as kids that somehow we forget when we get older. Humans don't melt!

By the time we had finished our walk, we had barely enough time to get ready for my radiation therapy appointment. I decided to make today's ninja star out of cheery colors (yellow & orange) to combat the gray skies:

It's a little messy because I was rushed and in the car, but between the things that I wrote in my email to my kids and the conversation I had with Steven, I knew the message I wanted to carry with me today:

BE PRESENT. LIFE IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW!

I included the #planforit because I don't think that this is the same philosophy as just letting life "happen" around you. You plan to make it happen. But then shit happens and you need to adjust....And while it's all happening, be THERE, not thinking or looking for the next thing. Lamenting the fact that something "ruined your plans" ...Or worse yet, looking back and wasting time wishing you had paid more attention in the past. <--- Okay, that was stream-of-conciousness version, but I think that there's a theorem in there somewhere:

PLANS + SHIT = LIFE

 DEAL WITH IT + APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE

That's a rough sketch, but I want credit when some genius solves the whole thing. This could be some Good Will Hunting kind of shit.

MY AFTERNOON

After my treatment, Steven and I went for lunch at a little Italian place. The pizza oven warmed the restaurant and created a perfect atmosphere to combat the rain. And - I kid you not -  a rainbow did appeared in the sky as we were walking back to the car. I'm not making this up. (Now, if I had said there was a cat riding a unicorn, I can understand how it would have sounded suspicious.) I thought about taking a picture of it, and then I decided, "No. I want to really SEE it. RIGHT NOW."

Another lesson for you kiddies: Look up and around. There are fleeting beautiful things that you will miss if you are always looking down. And you don't have to Snapchat or Instagram it all. (P.S. I'm not being a hater. You know I love me some social media!)

The rest of the day for me was spent under my Chemo Project Blanket (Love!), watching a few good movies with my brother and Steven. I got a surprise visit from a former coworker/friend, Irene. Unexpected extra hugs and gifts! Bonus love!!! Xoxoxo!

The object to the right is a "Dammit Doll". Irene said she wanted to get me a "Fuck It" doll, but they didn't have one. Haha!

EVENING

 I skipped my daily nap (which hardly ever happens these days!) because I was enjoying my rainy afternoon so much. So, my evening was short. But Steven made this simple meal of chicken and green beans (organic stuff  - DUH! - that John bought at Whole Foods). It was yummy! Did you know that organic chicken from WF actually tastes like CHICKEN?!  And we sat around the dining room table and "broke bread" together with Aidan. Until I went to bed at the late, late hour of 8:00 p.m.

This last lesson goes out to all of you that have someone in your life that is dealing with any serious illness: I know you feel helpless and that there is "nothing you can do". and it feels that way because, let's face it, what we all really want to do is give them their health back. and it sucks that we can't.

But what you can do is be one of the "small-ish" things in their day that make them smile, or laugh, or cry, or look with a sense of wonder. (If you can't be there in person - a card, a message on Facebook or Twitter, a text...it all makes a difference.) 

And if you are one of the people like me, who currently has a serious, shitty illness: 

Try, try, try to spend as much of your day as you can

Being Present 

and 

Realizing that LIFE is happening all around you...

including IN YOU.

So, kiddies, there you have it:

Open your arms, and let it in. This is LIFE! Right here. Right now.

The One in Which I Start to Feel of the Effects of all this Treatment...

I had an idea for a blog post when I woke up early this morning, but now I've forgotten it....

Shit.

Oh, yea. The effects of radiation and chemotherapy. (hint: one of them is memory)

I remember (that's a plus, right?) on our first visit to the Radiologist, this sweet nurse gave us this packet of information about what to expect from the treatment and support systems for cancer patients, and...and......but in my mind, I think I was still saying, "Holy shit! I have brain cancer!" over and over again, so I didn't quite catch what she was really saying.

Imagine a Charlie Brown movie and what we hear every time the teacher speaks. 

It was definitely like that:

I'm pretty sure that Steven was as shell-shocked as I was, so...
NO! We weren't "getting any of this".

I dimly remember her saying, repeatedly, that the symptoms I was going to experience wouldn't start until about halfway through my treatment cycle - 3 weeks into it. Well, slap me silly, and call me darlin'! Guess what? It's been three weeks, and right on cue:

1) My hair is falling out. I think I gathered enough hair yesterday to knit a dog sweater. I don't want to exaggerate, so it would have to be a very small dog - like a yorkie or chihuahua... (Okay, I googled "knitting with hair" and let's just say...I don't recommend it. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

2) My memory is suffering from.... what is it called? Shit, I forget....
Oh, yea! There is an actual term for it: "Chemo Brain". Funny. They didn't mention anything about "chemo brain" in "chemo class"...

Of course, it's complicated and it's not obvious what is causing  my memory problems - if it's the chemo and/or the radiation...and in my case, it very well may be related to the Bastard Thugs (cancer cells) themselves that have taken up (temporary) residence in my brain. Not to mention the cocktail of three medications that I am taking to prevent seizures. 

Let's take a moment to imagine how brilliant my blog would be if I weren't taking the medications, radiation, chemo, and had brain cancer? 
<pause> I'll wait....
So, excuuuuuusee me if I miss a few words now and then or put things in the wrong tense. #freepass!!!!

It's like I used to say to my mother when she'd say, "See! We all smoked and drank when we were pregnant with you guys, and you turned out just fine." To which I always replied: "But who knows how much BETTER I would have been if you hadn't smoke and drank?"

Love you, Mom! She's the one that taught me that you never let the truth get in the way of a good joke.
(But it's mostly true.)

3) Fatigue. What. the. actual. Fuck??? 
Steven and I have been taking daily 3 mile walks up and around Communications Hill. And I was feeling pretty studly. Not that we were breaking any land speed records, but Woot! Look at me, with brain cancer, exercising...and sometimes passing people! Confession: I always whisper in Steven's ear, "Should we tell them that I have brain cancer?" To our credit, I never do. I just think it. Which isn't bad, right?

On Tuesday, I got back from our walk and ended up napping for about 3 hours. I felt like I had been run over by  a truck.

Question: When does a nap become just sleeping?

Well, I googled that shit, and I have some news for some of you <cough> JILL <cough>...
The Mayo Clinic says, "Aim to nap for only 10 to 30 minutes." (full article here)
Even cancer.gov says that if you are receiving radiation treatment, you should aim for no more than an hour.

What?! But I love me some nappy time!!!

Gratuitous picture of napping puppies -
It was so hard to choose because there are so many pix of cute napping animals on google images!

Yesterday afternoon, Steven suggested a walk. I rolled over in bed and slept some more. And it was warmderful! <--- not a brain related typo. This my new word which I expect to see in the Oxford Dictionary next year. I'm kind of afraid that it might be more like "fetch" and never catch on, though.

So, I will take a (shorter) nap today, and we will walk - even it's raining. Because I'm stubborn like that. That's what ninjas do! And if regular exercise is going to increase my chances of a quicker recovery from this treatment, I'm going to do it - come hell or high water!

Besides, did I tell you that Steven and I registered for a half-marathon in March? (This was wayyyyy before the shit hit the fan.) And we're still planning on doing it. Walking, not running. But this MFBCFNW is planning to train for and walking 13.1 miles four months from now. Join us! March 28. 2015 - Livermore Half Marathon!

Gotta keep the eye on the prize, people.

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