"I have cancer." The minute you let yourself absorb those words, your life changes. What had been important yesterday, is either more important today or less. Family and friends are definitely the more important, rather you can get a dye on your hair or not really doesn't matter any more. You just hope you will at some time end up with hair again.
I have heard some say that chemotherapy didn't bother them. I wasn't one of that group. From the minute I took my four steroid pills the day before chemo and got severe migraine headaches, chemo played havoc with me. The headaches would come first. I was given pain medication for the headaches and they proceeded to make me sick at my stomach. I was given nausea medicine to counteract the pain meds and the nausea medication proceeded to give me more headaches. I had developed an infection in my left breast which required my taking antibiotics which created yeast infection. I do not need to explain the scourge of yeast infection as most women have suffered from it. Needless to say, it is nothing I would wish on my worst enemy.
I would lay on my bed, with my plastic garbage can close at hand to vomit in. My darling daughters, and daughter-in-law and sister were never far away bringing me ice packs for my aching head, carbonated sodas to dry and still my stomach, ice water to try and keep me hydrated, oatmeal and dry toast. This would last for about two weeks. Going into the third week after chemo, I would start feeling pretty good. Hope was renewed that I was in fact not going to die with my head in a garbage can. I felt a little more energy seep into me and was able to get out of bed and at least put dishes in the dish washer. Of course, that period would only last a week until I received my next dose of chemo an would start all over again.
I was told my hair would start falling out the third week after my first chemo treatment, and as if on a tight time schedule, that is exactly when it did. My daughters and son had taken me to San Diego for a few days during my one week of feeling good. I showered and washed my hair to find it falling out in my hands. It was strange. It's not like losing a few strands here and there that usually accumulate in the bottom of the tub or on the shower stall. It was handfuls of hair. It was like pulling weeds after a soaking rain storm. I used a comb and very, very carefully tried to assemble it without combing it all out. Rainee had bought me two wide-brim hats so they came in very handy in trying to hide what was going on beneath. The day we got back home, Shannon took me to Diane's Wigs and I had my head shaved. I did not want my hair laying all over the house and I knew if I didn't get it cut off, that would be what would happen. I bought a wig and several scarves to wear. A person has two choices in life. You can either find something funny or you can find something miserable. My "hair situation" has been the bunt of many a joke between my children. My son Mark awoke from a nap in his recliner and he had a hair style quite associated with Alfalfa on the Little Rascals. I told him I liked his hair-do and he responded with "Well at least I have hair." Rainee has told me not to use her shampoo and conditioner and Dawna my daughter-in-law asked if I carry hairspray in my purse. It's the Whiting way of handling life and this way has seen me through many tough times. I love my kids and their warped sense of humors.
On July 5, 2014, with the help of some old friends, I attended our 50th high school reunion. What fun it was sitting with a group of women that had been my friends throughout my life. I think when one suffers a life threatening disease, it puts everything into perspective. You appreciate more and find less to ridicule. Petty things suddenly find their place at the bottom of the pile.
On July 6, 2014 I awoke and was unable to get out of bed. I couldn't move to the left, nor to the right. I called Mark who came in and helped me get out of bed and then took me to the emergency room at American Fork hospital. It was determined through a CT scan I had some ruptured vertebrae. The scan detected a light spot on my spine and the ER doctor suggested I have a PET Scan done. With a PET scan, your blood sugar is tested when you go in, then you are given a drink of sugar based liquid. Evidently, cancer likes sugar. If there is cancer, it attacks the sugar showing up in the scan. The report was sent to my oncologist and she said it didn't show anything alarming. I took the maximum amount of ibuprofen to try and get the inflammation out of my back along with a muscle relaxant when I went to bed. My back seemed to get worse.
I went to an orthopedic surgeon to see what could be done. After an X-ray he asked me "How did you hurt your back so bad?" (Apparently, I had five ruptured discs.) I told him I haven't fallen, I haven't been in an accident and I don't know how I hurt my back as bad as it was hurt. I told him I had lifted an air conditioner and pushed a tire into the tire well in the back of my car, but he told me that wouldn't have caused the damage that I had. He suggested I have an MRI to see if I had cancer in my back. I was scheduled for another lumpectomy three days later, on September 3, 2014 so they scheduled the MRI for Friday, September 5, 2014.
The lumpectomy went off without a problem. Rainee took me to the University of Utah Clinic located in Day Break. Lola met us there. Dr. Poretta removed a lump the size of a golf ball, cleaned out scar tissue that had accumulated since the original lumpectomy and cleaned the border of the original incision that had indicated there might still be cancer. All in all, I felt like an egg beater had been put inside of me and turned on high.
Mark and Dawna brought me over a feather tic mattress to fit on my bed. It made sleeping much more comfortable.
Friday I went in for the MRI. I spent two hours in the tube having my upper and lower back checked out for bone cancer and then waited anxiously through the weekend waiting for the results. On Monday, I received wonderful news. My back was cancer free, and so was the second lump removed by Dr. Poretta. I am cancer free! I need to have radiation treatment that will last between 3-6 weeks, and I need to decide what to do about my back, but as of today September 9, 2014, I am on my way back to healthy.
The God I believe in doesn't pick and choose from the prayers sent His way. He doesn't make the choice to save some of his children from cancer while having others die from the same disease. With that thought, why then did I get breast cancer. Why do I get to live? There has been no history of breast cancer in my family. My mother and six sisters did not have breast cancer, so why me. I only know that my experience with this disease has made me more aware, more compassionate, more caring towards others that suffer cancer and chemo and the side effects. It made me cry for the woman I met sitting in a chemo chair who had stage 4 breast cancer. It made me cry for my daughter's friend who's little granddaughter has liver cancer. I have been blessed throughout my life with a minimum of health issues. I don't think I truly appreciated feeling good. As I write this, my feet and part of my legs, along with my fingers suffer neuropathy. It is a result of the chemo that causes numbness and pain. I don't know how long it will last, or if it's something I will just need to deal with for life. I recall my sweet husband in the last weeks of his life. His legs were so swollen and were constantly cold and painful. I would put towels in the oven and heat them to wrap around his legs to try and warm them. As I crawled into bed last night, my feet were so cold (but not on the outside, only inside) and I thought of Danny. I appreciated all he went through with his illness, thankful to have been able to help him when I could, and regret any impatience I showed him when I shouldn't. I admire the strength he showed. He didn't give up. He didn't give in. Until the day he died, he was still "doing".
Having cancer has made me rely on others. I have always been one who didn't want to ask of people. Having cancer released me from that pride. I couldn't have done and faced what I did without the help and support of my children and my sister.
Why did I get cancer? It was a lesson to be learned; a tool to teach me with. It wasn't suppose to kill me. It was to help me live more fully.
Now, if I just don't get Alzheimer's Disease and forget the lessons learned during this year.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
Saturday, July 26, 2014
A Letter to Danny - July 26, 2014
Hi Honey:
Remember how I told you that everything builds up inside me until I become a pressure cooker ready to explode and its then I know I need to write to you. It's funny. Writing is what does it. Remember when we use to go for rides and we would be riding along not saying anything and you would say "I can see you writing in that head of yours." And you would be right. My mind would be writing as we traveled along. If you've been watching me lately honey, you haven't seen me writing. I wonder what it is you see when you look at me now.
Do you see me sitting on my bed with a scarf covering a head that no longer has the long hair you loved so much?
Do you feel my insecurities in not being able to do the things I use to do? Do you feel how tired I am and not only physical,, but so emotional drained.
Do you know what I would give to have you say "Let's go for a ride," and climb in your truck and take a ride up the canyon and smell the scent of pine needles and sagebrush. To have you point out the deer and elk in some meadow or a sage grouse along side the road.
We'd share a Pepsi and some fried chicken as we traveled along. You would have your Copenhagen and I would have my Hersey bar and everything would be as it should be. But its not that way honey. Nor will it ever be again. It's not the way it should be. Or maybe it is. Maybe this is as it should be. Maybe this is what life has lead to. Maybe this is the place I was meant to be.
Maybe there's lessons I need to learn that I couldn't learn with you beside me. Maybe the lesson is to appreciate what I have at this moment like I really didn't appreciate the moments I had with you bumping along in a Dodge 1-ton.
What is it you see when you look at me now honey? Why can't you just whisper to me
"You're doing okay Pretty One. This is how it's suppose to be. Everything is as it was meant to be. Remember when you use to tell me that we were the writers of our lives and that before we came to earth, we wrote our life story so we would learn the lessons we needed to learn. And I would say 'Oh God! That can't be true. I wouldn't have been so stupid as to include so-in-so in my life.' Remember when you use to tell me that. Well just hang in there, Pretty One. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay. Get up and get busy and you will feel better. Remember when you use to tell me that a full head of hair didn't make the man. Well guess what, Babe. It doesn't make the woman either. I know you're tired. I know you've taken a lot of hits over the past three years. I was one of the ones who hit you. And then Daren. And now cancer. Well babe, it's all part of the life story you wrote. And here I thought I married a smart girl. Just keep on keepin' on Pretty One. I know it would make you feel better if I were there and said 'Why don't you get up and fix me a bologna sandwich and grab me a Pepsi.' I'm kidding. It wouldn't make you feel better. It would make you mad. I'm still with you though. Can't you feel me brush your arm? Can't you hear me whisper your name? Can't you feel me kiss your cheek? Maybe we're not taking a drive up the canyon, but wherever you are you can know I am with you. You can know that I love you. You can know that all's well."
I wish I could hear you say those things to me honey. I miss you so much.
I love you Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
Remember how I told you that everything builds up inside me until I become a pressure cooker ready to explode and its then I know I need to write to you. It's funny. Writing is what does it. Remember when we use to go for rides and we would be riding along not saying anything and you would say "I can see you writing in that head of yours." And you would be right. My mind would be writing as we traveled along. If you've been watching me lately honey, you haven't seen me writing. I wonder what it is you see when you look at me now.
Do you see me sitting on my bed with a scarf covering a head that no longer has the long hair you loved so much?
Do you feel my insecurities in not being able to do the things I use to do? Do you feel how tired I am and not only physical,, but so emotional drained.
Do you know what I would give to have you say "Let's go for a ride," and climb in your truck and take a ride up the canyon and smell the scent of pine needles and sagebrush. To have you point out the deer and elk in some meadow or a sage grouse along side the road.
We'd share a Pepsi and some fried chicken as we traveled along. You would have your Copenhagen and I would have my Hersey bar and everything would be as it should be. But its not that way honey. Nor will it ever be again. It's not the way it should be. Or maybe it is. Maybe this is as it should be. Maybe this is what life has lead to. Maybe this is the place I was meant to be.
Maybe there's lessons I need to learn that I couldn't learn with you beside me. Maybe the lesson is to appreciate what I have at this moment like I really didn't appreciate the moments I had with you bumping along in a Dodge 1-ton.
What is it you see when you look at me now honey? Why can't you just whisper to me
"You're doing okay Pretty One. This is how it's suppose to be. Everything is as it was meant to be. Remember when you use to tell me that we were the writers of our lives and that before we came to earth, we wrote our life story so we would learn the lessons we needed to learn. And I would say 'Oh God! That can't be true. I wouldn't have been so stupid as to include so-in-so in my life.' Remember when you use to tell me that. Well just hang in there, Pretty One. Everything is okay. Everything will be okay. Get up and get busy and you will feel better. Remember when you use to tell me that a full head of hair didn't make the man. Well guess what, Babe. It doesn't make the woman either. I know you're tired. I know you've taken a lot of hits over the past three years. I was one of the ones who hit you. And then Daren. And now cancer. Well babe, it's all part of the life story you wrote. And here I thought I married a smart girl. Just keep on keepin' on Pretty One. I know it would make you feel better if I were there and said 'Why don't you get up and fix me a bologna sandwich and grab me a Pepsi.' I'm kidding. It wouldn't make you feel better. It would make you mad. I'm still with you though. Can't you feel me brush your arm? Can't you hear me whisper your name? Can't you feel me kiss your cheek? Maybe we're not taking a drive up the canyon, but wherever you are you can know I am with you. You can know that I love you. You can know that all's well."
I wish I could hear you say those things to me honey. I miss you so much.
I love you Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
Friday, June 13, 2014
Cancer ~ This Kind of Sucks
The oncologists agreed that since I would be doing Chemo, perhaps a colonoscopy should be ran. Since I had an abnormal EKG when I had my port installed, they thought I should also follow up with a cardiologist to make sure my heart was up for Chemo. The colonoscopy was scheduled and prepared for. Is there many things worse than the night before the colonoscopy? I stayed up the night before drinking the giant sized Gatorade with a bottle of Miralax dumped in it. I followed with the recommended dosages of Dulcolax. Morning came and my sweet sister picked me up for first the colonoscopy in the morning, and then the Echo Cardiogram of my heart in the after noon. Lola had driven down from Centerville (a sizable drive) to be my moral support, care giver, and encourage r. I was feeling pretty darn yucky when I got in her car, but Lola being Lola had thought to bring a barf bag. I chalked my nausea up to the medicines I had to take. The colonoscopy went off without a hitch. All was well....except for me. I felt like I was going to die. I told Lola I would need to reschedule my heart tests. I needed to go home. We were told I should to to American Fork Hospital and have some fluids administered intravenously, so Susan and Rainee met us there. I was then taken home and thankfully snuggled down in my bed. Since my will is in place, and since I was certain I was dying, in the middle of the night I planned my funeral. I could hear a part of my brain figure my cremation costs. Then I would be planning the food, prayers, video clips, etc, etc. etc.
The next morning I woke to more fluid draining from the point of incision; this time it was a brownish-green color. I told Mark I was going to emergency. He told me he was taking me. He called Susan and Rainee and once again my troupe was in place. The diagnosis was simple. The breast had become infected. A bag of Intravenous antibiotics were flushed in to me. The emergency room doctor called my surgeon and verified I would be sent home with added antibiotics and should see the surgeon the next day. The next day, I went to my surgeon's office to be seen by his PA and his nurse. They tool samples of the infection to have it checked and I went home.
My Chemo therapy of my triple x cancer cells was being delayed because of an infection caused by fluids escaping the incisions. I was put on further antibiotics. The next day my surgeon called and said after reviewing my situation and the problems that I had, that on the following Tuesday they would go in and either clean out the breast or do a mastectomy. I called Lola and told her what he had said and Lola got on the line and made me an appointment with a doctor from the Huntsman Center. She turned out to be just what I needed. She was caring, compassionate,thorough. She scheduled an MRI to find out exactly what we were looking at. She found another cyst in the same breast. A biopsy had been done on it and came back negative, but the size and shape worried her. Apparently, woman with Triple X also run a chance of having a separate cancer type in the same breast. After weighing the options of more lumpectomies, biopsies, etc. I asked her to just remove it. More antibiotics were ordered and chemo was scheduled. First Chemo, then Mastectomy, Radiation and Reconstructive Surgery. A Plan was in place.
June 4 was my first chemo treatment. You are given a tube of cream that you spread about 1/4" thick over your port. This is done about 1/2 hour before you go for chemo. This cream is covered with plastic wrap. This process numbs where the port is at. Having the needle inserted into the port was a piece of cake. There was no pain at all. My problem began with the four steroids I was to take the day before Chemo and the day after Chemo. The steroids are suppose to help build resistance I ended up getting a four day headache that would not go away. I had been given pain medicine for the headaches that would only hold the pain at bay for about two hours. And with PAIN MEDICINE COMES THE WONDER WORLD OF CONSTIPATION. THEN ADD TO IT THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF YEAST INFECTION BROUGHT ON BY THE ANTIBIOTICS.
So my first bout of chemo was a learner and it sucked. The 9th of June was to be Danny's and my 50th wedding anniversary...That day I was ready to bag chemo ever again. But then, enter my children. They came in the force they always come in. There is Crying. There is Get Up and Get Busy, it will make you feel better, There's the never ending "Where are we going to Eat?" There is the laughter in the house. There is the "What can I do for you Mommie?" "I'll drive down from Idaho for your next treatment. Mom, I'm flying down from Alaska tomorrow to be with you. "Mom, when you feel like it come on home." And within a matter of hours my crazy bunch of children are planning to take me to San Diego. To the ocean, the sands, peace. Two of my loves have left me. Now stands the Magnificent 7.
With this type of love. I've gotta Win!
The next morning I woke to more fluid draining from the point of incision; this time it was a brownish-green color. I told Mark I was going to emergency. He told me he was taking me. He called Susan and Rainee and once again my troupe was in place. The diagnosis was simple. The breast had become infected. A bag of Intravenous antibiotics were flushed in to me. The emergency room doctor called my surgeon and verified I would be sent home with added antibiotics and should see the surgeon the next day. The next day, I went to my surgeon's office to be seen by his PA and his nurse. They tool samples of the infection to have it checked and I went home.
My Chemo therapy of my triple x cancer cells was being delayed because of an infection caused by fluids escaping the incisions. I was put on further antibiotics. The next day my surgeon called and said after reviewing my situation and the problems that I had, that on the following Tuesday they would go in and either clean out the breast or do a mastectomy. I called Lola and told her what he had said and Lola got on the line and made me an appointment with a doctor from the Huntsman Center. She turned out to be just what I needed. She was caring, compassionate,thorough. She scheduled an MRI to find out exactly what we were looking at. She found another cyst in the same breast. A biopsy had been done on it and came back negative, but the size and shape worried her. Apparently, woman with Triple X also run a chance of having a separate cancer type in the same breast. After weighing the options of more lumpectomies, biopsies, etc. I asked her to just remove it. More antibiotics were ordered and chemo was scheduled. First Chemo, then Mastectomy, Radiation and Reconstructive Surgery. A Plan was in place.
June 4 was my first chemo treatment. You are given a tube of cream that you spread about 1/4" thick over your port. This is done about 1/2 hour before you go for chemo. This cream is covered with plastic wrap. This process numbs where the port is at. Having the needle inserted into the port was a piece of cake. There was no pain at all. My problem began with the four steroids I was to take the day before Chemo and the day after Chemo. The steroids are suppose to help build resistance I ended up getting a four day headache that would not go away. I had been given pain medicine for the headaches that would only hold the pain at bay for about two hours. And with PAIN MEDICINE COMES THE WONDER WORLD OF CONSTIPATION. THEN ADD TO IT THE WONDERFUL WORLD OF YEAST INFECTION BROUGHT ON BY THE ANTIBIOTICS.
So my first bout of chemo was a learner and it sucked. The 9th of June was to be Danny's and my 50th wedding anniversary...That day I was ready to bag chemo ever again. But then, enter my children. They came in the force they always come in. There is Crying. There is Get Up and Get Busy, it will make you feel better, There's the never ending "Where are we going to Eat?" There is the laughter in the house. There is the "What can I do for you Mommie?" "I'll drive down from Idaho for your next treatment. Mom, I'm flying down from Alaska tomorrow to be with you. "Mom, when you feel like it come on home." And within a matter of hours my crazy bunch of children are planning to take me to San Diego. To the ocean, the sands, peace. Two of my loves have left me. Now stands the Magnificent 7.
With this type of love. I've gotta Win!
Monday, May 26, 2014
Daren's Letter - May 26, 2014
Hello My Darling Son:
It's Memorial Day and I don't have a grave to decorate for you and your dad. But it's okay because I know that you would not be there anyway. I know you are not in the ground, or in the urn with your ashes. You are everywhere that you always wanted to be. I picture you on a Harley along Highway 101 taking in the view of the ocean along California. I see you walking through the vineyards or lounging in the sun on a Caribbean beach. How you loved the sun. I can see you in your cut off Levis hand fishing the Provo River. The sun shines off your hair as your back becomes more bronze. I can hear your laughter in the breeze and hear your prayers amid the mountain pines. I picture you free my dear son. So free and happy.
Rainee and I took flowers to the Provo River today. I kissed each one and threw it out into the current, knowing that from where you are at, you will see them floating in that old river that you and your dad loved so much.
There are times honey that I think I am forgetting the sound of your voice and it scares me That should be ringing in my ears every second of every day; or so I think. I close my eyes and I listen to my mind. I picture myself calling you on your phone and hearing you pick up. You say "Hello" in the way only you would say it and then you would say "What's up, Mom?" And we would talk. An hour could go by and we would still have things to say to each other.
I know that if you were here today, you would be a nervous wreck worrying about me and my cancer. You would be telling me to get mad at the doctors and make them listen to me. You would be so angry thinking that I wasn't being taken care of. You always worried about me. Even when there wasn't really anything to worry about. And I find comfort in knowing that you and your dad are not worrying about me right now Not because you don't love me the same, or care about me. It's because where you are at, you already know the outcome of everything. You have a unique view of the road I am on, and you know that wherever that road leads me, it will be the one I should be on and the destination will be where I am destined to end up at. And I know my darling son, you and your dad are with me I know you stand watch over me as I sleep, and watch me as I walk my days. What a comfort that is to me,
I miss you honey. I miss you so much, but I wouldn't want you to be back here fighting the demons you fought for so many years. I would rather you be on your beaches, or your Harley, or in your mountains. I would rather know that wherever you are, the sound of your laughter echos and that you are truly free.
Just so you know, there are so many times when I am missing you that Mark will say or do something that is exactly like you. He was working in his yard yesterday and had been all day. Suddenly, like a little boy throwing a temper tantrum he yelled "I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore." and he threw his weed bucket across the lawn. I burst out laughing because not only was it so much Mark, it was so much you too. It makes me happy you both share that same silly gene that has brought me to laughter so many times.
Well my darling boy, will you do something for me? If you get a chance, at night when I'm sleeping will you whisper in my ear. I need to hear your voice.
I love you darling.
Forever and ever my baby you'll be,
Mom
It's Memorial Day and I don't have a grave to decorate for you and your dad. But it's okay because I know that you would not be there anyway. I know you are not in the ground, or in the urn with your ashes. You are everywhere that you always wanted to be. I picture you on a Harley along Highway 101 taking in the view of the ocean along California. I see you walking through the vineyards or lounging in the sun on a Caribbean beach. How you loved the sun. I can see you in your cut off Levis hand fishing the Provo River. The sun shines off your hair as your back becomes more bronze. I can hear your laughter in the breeze and hear your prayers amid the mountain pines. I picture you free my dear son. So free and happy.
Rainee and I took flowers to the Provo River today. I kissed each one and threw it out into the current, knowing that from where you are at, you will see them floating in that old river that you and your dad loved so much.
There are times honey that I think I am forgetting the sound of your voice and it scares me That should be ringing in my ears every second of every day; or so I think. I close my eyes and I listen to my mind. I picture myself calling you on your phone and hearing you pick up. You say "Hello" in the way only you would say it and then you would say "What's up, Mom?" And we would talk. An hour could go by and we would still have things to say to each other.
I know that if you were here today, you would be a nervous wreck worrying about me and my cancer. You would be telling me to get mad at the doctors and make them listen to me. You would be so angry thinking that I wasn't being taken care of. You always worried about me. Even when there wasn't really anything to worry about. And I find comfort in knowing that you and your dad are not worrying about me right now Not because you don't love me the same, or care about me. It's because where you are at, you already know the outcome of everything. You have a unique view of the road I am on, and you know that wherever that road leads me, it will be the one I should be on and the destination will be where I am destined to end up at. And I know my darling son, you and your dad are with me I know you stand watch over me as I sleep, and watch me as I walk my days. What a comfort that is to me,
I miss you honey. I miss you so much, but I wouldn't want you to be back here fighting the demons you fought for so many years. I would rather you be on your beaches, or your Harley, or in your mountains. I would rather know that wherever you are, the sound of your laughter echos and that you are truly free.
Just so you know, there are so many times when I am missing you that Mark will say or do something that is exactly like you. He was working in his yard yesterday and had been all day. Suddenly, like a little boy throwing a temper tantrum he yelled "I'm done. I'm not doing this anymore." and he threw his weed bucket across the lawn. I burst out laughing because not only was it so much Mark, it was so much you too. It makes me happy you both share that same silly gene that has brought me to laughter so many times.
Well my darling boy, will you do something for me? If you get a chance, at night when I'm sleeping will you whisper in my ear. I need to hear your voice.
I love you darling.
Forever and ever my baby you'll be,
Mom
Friday, May 16, 2014
Happy Birthday Danny - May 17, 2014
Happy Birthday Honey!
I know. It won't officially be your birthday for one hour and one minute but that never stopped us from celebrating early before. Heck. We were celebrating days before and days after because after all...you didn't like birthdays. That is why, I baked your apple cakes and usually planned on your rib eye steak and potatoes and onions, or perhaps potato salad. That is why the kids bought you presents you would never use, but would save, still in their packages, under the bed. That is why you would ask Shannon "Whatcha gonna get me for my birthday, Bapper?" And then sing "Happy Birthday to me...and Sheree."
How could I have known Honey, that those silly little things you did, would be the things that would be the most important memories to me. I don't think about the amount of money you made. That doesn't matter in the least. It's picturing you sitting and bouncing our children and grandchildren on your knee singing "Ride the Pony Brown and Small." It's watching you grab hold of their outstretched hands and throwing them up into the air. It's the way you hiked up your pants and the little hop you made when you did it, and your little reading glasses perched on the end of your nose. It's the little hole you had in the bottom of your foot from when you ran that stick into it and the scar you had on your butt from when Dennis Sorensen accidentally shot you with a BB gun when you were little boys.
It is your anger over injustice, and your ability to forgive. It's your sleeping with your bible under your pillow because you had heard me tell our children to do that to ward off bad dreams. I close my eyes, and I can almost feel your hand that I held for more than fifty years. It's a rough and calloused hand because you were a rough and calloused man but mostly only on the outside.
Happy Birthday Honey. If you were here, you would be trying to convince your sisters Tessie and Sandi that you were the younger. How you hated getting older, until you found out we got senior citizens discounts and then getting older wasn't so bad.
Your last Birthday with us, we spent at the Silver Gulch in Fox, Alaska. You asked Ashley's boyfriend Perry what he got you for your birthday. I can remember you sitting there with the candles of your birthday cake aglow and for a moment then, I knew, you wouldn't be with me on your next. I swallowed that fear as I did quite often the three years we were in Alaska. I knew Alaska would be where you would live out your biggest dream on your bucket list...to be an Alaskan, and I knew Alaska would be the place where you would die.
Well Darling, your birthday keeps rolling around and all of us who love you so much will keep celebrating. Perhaps it will be balloons reaching towards the sky. Perhaps it will be a birthday letter written to you from your wife. Whatever honey, it is still the Whiting Family's National Holiday.
Happy birthday!
With all my love far beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie .
I know. It won't officially be your birthday for one hour and one minute but that never stopped us from celebrating early before. Heck. We were celebrating days before and days after because after all...you didn't like birthdays. That is why, I baked your apple cakes and usually planned on your rib eye steak and potatoes and onions, or perhaps potato salad. That is why the kids bought you presents you would never use, but would save, still in their packages, under the bed. That is why you would ask Shannon "Whatcha gonna get me for my birthday, Bapper?" And then sing "Happy Birthday to me...and Sheree."
How could I have known Honey, that those silly little things you did, would be the things that would be the most important memories to me. I don't think about the amount of money you made. That doesn't matter in the least. It's picturing you sitting and bouncing our children and grandchildren on your knee singing "Ride the Pony Brown and Small." It's watching you grab hold of their outstretched hands and throwing them up into the air. It's the way you hiked up your pants and the little hop you made when you did it, and your little reading glasses perched on the end of your nose. It's the little hole you had in the bottom of your foot from when you ran that stick into it and the scar you had on your butt from when Dennis Sorensen accidentally shot you with a BB gun when you were little boys.
It is your anger over injustice, and your ability to forgive. It's your sleeping with your bible under your pillow because you had heard me tell our children to do that to ward off bad dreams. I close my eyes, and I can almost feel your hand that I held for more than fifty years. It's a rough and calloused hand because you were a rough and calloused man but mostly only on the outside.
Happy Birthday Honey. If you were here, you would be trying to convince your sisters Tessie and Sandi that you were the younger. How you hated getting older, until you found out we got senior citizens discounts and then getting older wasn't so bad.
Your last Birthday with us, we spent at the Silver Gulch in Fox, Alaska. You asked Ashley's boyfriend Perry what he got you for your birthday. I can remember you sitting there with the candles of your birthday cake aglow and for a moment then, I knew, you wouldn't be with me on your next. I swallowed that fear as I did quite often the three years we were in Alaska. I knew Alaska would be where you would live out your biggest dream on your bucket list...to be an Alaskan, and I knew Alaska would be the place where you would die.
Well Darling, your birthday keeps rolling around and all of us who love you so much will keep celebrating. Perhaps it will be balloons reaching towards the sky. Perhaps it will be a birthday letter written to you from your wife. Whatever honey, it is still the Whiting Family's National Holiday.
Happy birthday!
With all my love far beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie .
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Cancer - What the Heck?
The day after my lumpectomy I was feeling pretty darn good. My girls and I went to a movie. Having had seven children natural childbirth, I consider myself having a pretty high pain tolerance. I can't tell you how many times while sitting in the dentist's chair I've said to myself, if you can have a baby, you can do this. That phrase has helped me get through quite a few unpleasant experiences. But there was one difference. When you have a baby, you know the baby will be born and then the pain will start to go away. Not so with the next month after my surgery. My breast started to swell and soon, it was as if the doctor had inserted a baseball where the lump had been. The skin all the way up under my arm, into the armpit and around my back became numb. But it was only numb to the touch of the skin, Inside, it was very painful and on the outside, the skin felt as though it was chafed.
My surgeon said the site was looking fine. When I asked him about the swelling, he assured me it was normal and might last up to a month. I was to put ice on it. I did as I was told for two weeks and there was no change. I googled "swelling after a lumpectomy" and found that a lumpectomy can actually be more painful than a mastectomy. The site said I should be wearing a compression bra. My sister and I went to a specialty bra shop and they had them for $126.00. The problem was, I had no idea how much compression I should be applying or where it should be applied to. I didn't want to spend $126.00 only to be buying the wrong thing.
I called my surgeon's office again, told the nurse about the pain I was in, and that I didn't know what I should be doing. She referred me to a lymphodemiologist at the hospital. I arrived hopeful that finally someone could tell me what was going on. I was taken back to a small room where the lady began measuring my fingers on both hands. She measured around them, my wrist, from my wrist to my elbow, around my arm, from my shoulder to my elbow. With each little measurement, she told me she was hesitant about working on me because she was afraid if there was infection, she could be aiding the infection to move to other parts of my body. My hopes for an answer was going down the drain. My breast, arm and now back of my shoulder was aching. After getting my measurements, she said she would call the doctor's office and let them know her concerns. I don't know what she ever did with the measurements she took. Somewhere in the hospital, someone knows the circumference of my fingers and wrists.
I called the surgeon's office once again and was able to get in that day. The surgeon wasn't there, but his physician's assistant told me it didn't look like it was infected and to keep putting ice on it. The nurse wrapped me with a 6" ace bandage, but the way she had to wrap me caused the ace bandage to put pressure right through the lump. When I got back home, I took it off, put back on my bra, but made it tighter so it would offer the same type of compression the ace bandage had given me without cutting through the lump. My sister Lola kept the ice packs coming for me.
A week later, I had another follow up appointment with my surgeon. He was on an emergency surgery, so another doctor took care of me. Looking at the breast, he assured me that it was extremely swollen and hard. He said I had developed a mass of blood in the area and that mass of blood was congealing. He asked it I had been putting my HOT PACKS on it. I told him no. I told him I had been putting ice packs on it as instructed. He said I shouldn't have been putting ice on it after the third day. The ice was causing the blood to congeal more. I should be putting wet heat on it. He told me it could take up to another six weeks for my body to dissipate the clot. For the last three days, the wet heat has been making me feel better.
I decided I only have a high pain tolerance when I can see light at the end of the tunnel. My mind needs to know what is going on. As I write today, there is a glimmer of light shining in the distance so I can deal with this. Everything is going to be okay.
My surgeon said the site was looking fine. When I asked him about the swelling, he assured me it was normal and might last up to a month. I was to put ice on it. I did as I was told for two weeks and there was no change. I googled "swelling after a lumpectomy" and found that a lumpectomy can actually be more painful than a mastectomy. The site said I should be wearing a compression bra. My sister and I went to a specialty bra shop and they had them for $126.00. The problem was, I had no idea how much compression I should be applying or where it should be applied to. I didn't want to spend $126.00 only to be buying the wrong thing.
I called my surgeon's office again, told the nurse about the pain I was in, and that I didn't know what I should be doing. She referred me to a lymphodemiologist at the hospital. I arrived hopeful that finally someone could tell me what was going on. I was taken back to a small room where the lady began measuring my fingers on both hands. She measured around them, my wrist, from my wrist to my elbow, around my arm, from my shoulder to my elbow. With each little measurement, she told me she was hesitant about working on me because she was afraid if there was infection, she could be aiding the infection to move to other parts of my body. My hopes for an answer was going down the drain. My breast, arm and now back of my shoulder was aching. After getting my measurements, she said she would call the doctor's office and let them know her concerns. I don't know what she ever did with the measurements she took. Somewhere in the hospital, someone knows the circumference of my fingers and wrists.
I called the surgeon's office once again and was able to get in that day. The surgeon wasn't there, but his physician's assistant told me it didn't look like it was infected and to keep putting ice on it. The nurse wrapped me with a 6" ace bandage, but the way she had to wrap me caused the ace bandage to put pressure right through the lump. When I got back home, I took it off, put back on my bra, but made it tighter so it would offer the same type of compression the ace bandage had given me without cutting through the lump. My sister Lola kept the ice packs coming for me.
A week later, I had another follow up appointment with my surgeon. He was on an emergency surgery, so another doctor took care of me. Looking at the breast, he assured me that it was extremely swollen and hard. He said I had developed a mass of blood in the area and that mass of blood was congealing. He asked it I had been putting my HOT PACKS on it. I told him no. I told him I had been putting ice packs on it as instructed. He said I shouldn't have been putting ice on it after the third day. The ice was causing the blood to congeal more. I should be putting wet heat on it. He told me it could take up to another six weeks for my body to dissipate the clot. For the last three days, the wet heat has been making me feel better.
I decided I only have a high pain tolerance when I can see light at the end of the tunnel. My mind needs to know what is going on. As I write today, there is a glimmer of light shining in the distance so I can deal with this. Everything is going to be okay.
Thursday, May 1, 2014
A Letter to Danny - May 1, 2014
Hello Honey:
I remember years ago, you and I took a ride up high up in the mountains. It was early fall, and we pulled in alongside a little lake. The snow was falling and the wind was blowing. The pine trees and quaken asp made the sounds they make when the wind is blowing through them. Gray storm clouds hovered over the mountain peaks. It was all so wonderfully majestic. I remember turning to you and saying "I hope heaven is just half as beautiful as earth is." So many times in our lives, I marveled at the beauty God created; rather it be the birth of spring, or the dead of winter. I have learned a lot since you left me honey. I have learned that every magnificent thing God makes is enhanced by the love you feel in your heart, the joy of sharing it with someone you love. I think if everyone was someway lifted off the earth, the earth would not be as vibrant. The colors would not be as colorful. The sounds would not be as beautiful. The scents would not be as fragrant. It is love that adds too and enhances what God creates. Of course, Honey I have learned this the hard way...by losing you. God still creates beautiful things, but they seemed shadowed without you here to share them with me.
I'm missing you so much tonight. As I was lying in bed, I thought "I wish I could just hear his voice." So, I decided to pull out our letters to each other once again and read what you had written me when you were away in the Army. As I read your love letters, I could hear you. But, just so you know in case you have forgotten, I counted the letters I wrote to you and the letters you wrote to me. I wrote you ninety-four letters. You wrote me ten. With that said, I think you have some writing to do. I don't know how it's possible there where you are at but I think if you look you can find a way to write me at least eighty-four more letters. Maybe the only way I'll be able to read them is if you imprint them on my mind or wrap them in my dreams. But I will be expecting them.
I have cancer Honey. Can you believe that? I know if you were here, you would be shocked and in denial. You would be telling me that the doctors are wrong and that if I think positive, it won't be so. You would tell me to get up and get busy and I will feel better. You would put on a tough front, but I know underneath that tough exterior that was Dan Whiting, your heart would be breaking for me. I know I'd feel you squeeze me a little tighter when you held me and I know you'd make certain your bible was under your pillow at night just to make sure God heard your prayers. I'm going to be okay Honey. I'm going to fight it with everything I have, because we have our six children here and our large brood of grandchildren. I need to fight for them. And I will. But my love, I feel I am in a win/win situation. If I win this battle against cancer, I will be here with our children. If I lose the battle, I will be with you and Daren.
You know Honey, life is so full of petty things. So much of what we worry about or get angry about is so silly. I look back on our life together and regret the times I let stress or frustration control my actions. There really are so few things in this life that justify hurting the people we love. I wish I could tell everyone to cherish every second they have with the people they love. Don't sweat the little things...or even some of the big things. In a year or two down the road most of those things will not matter at all. They will just be times when we have taken a dark crayon and marred the beauty of the day with harsh words or actions.
It's spring here Honey. The grasses are greening. The blossoms are in bloom. The spring sun is covering the chill of the past months. It's a beautiful time of year, but it's not the same. It's not quite as beautiful as it use to be...when you were here. But I don't say I hope heaven is as beautiful as this is anymore. I know it is and it will be because you are there.
I'll keep watching for my letters.
I love you Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
I remember years ago, you and I took a ride up high up in the mountains. It was early fall, and we pulled in alongside a little lake. The snow was falling and the wind was blowing. The pine trees and quaken asp made the sounds they make when the wind is blowing through them. Gray storm clouds hovered over the mountain peaks. It was all so wonderfully majestic. I remember turning to you and saying "I hope heaven is just half as beautiful as earth is." So many times in our lives, I marveled at the beauty God created; rather it be the birth of spring, or the dead of winter. I have learned a lot since you left me honey. I have learned that every magnificent thing God makes is enhanced by the love you feel in your heart, the joy of sharing it with someone you love. I think if everyone was someway lifted off the earth, the earth would not be as vibrant. The colors would not be as colorful. The sounds would not be as beautiful. The scents would not be as fragrant. It is love that adds too and enhances what God creates. Of course, Honey I have learned this the hard way...by losing you. God still creates beautiful things, but they seemed shadowed without you here to share them with me.
I'm missing you so much tonight. As I was lying in bed, I thought "I wish I could just hear his voice." So, I decided to pull out our letters to each other once again and read what you had written me when you were away in the Army. As I read your love letters, I could hear you. But, just so you know in case you have forgotten, I counted the letters I wrote to you and the letters you wrote to me. I wrote you ninety-four letters. You wrote me ten. With that said, I think you have some writing to do. I don't know how it's possible there where you are at but I think if you look you can find a way to write me at least eighty-four more letters. Maybe the only way I'll be able to read them is if you imprint them on my mind or wrap them in my dreams. But I will be expecting them.
I have cancer Honey. Can you believe that? I know if you were here, you would be shocked and in denial. You would be telling me that the doctors are wrong and that if I think positive, it won't be so. You would tell me to get up and get busy and I will feel better. You would put on a tough front, but I know underneath that tough exterior that was Dan Whiting, your heart would be breaking for me. I know I'd feel you squeeze me a little tighter when you held me and I know you'd make certain your bible was under your pillow at night just to make sure God heard your prayers. I'm going to be okay Honey. I'm going to fight it with everything I have, because we have our six children here and our large brood of grandchildren. I need to fight for them. And I will. But my love, I feel I am in a win/win situation. If I win this battle against cancer, I will be here with our children. If I lose the battle, I will be with you and Daren.
You know Honey, life is so full of petty things. So much of what we worry about or get angry about is so silly. I look back on our life together and regret the times I let stress or frustration control my actions. There really are so few things in this life that justify hurting the people we love. I wish I could tell everyone to cherish every second they have with the people they love. Don't sweat the little things...or even some of the big things. In a year or two down the road most of those things will not matter at all. They will just be times when we have taken a dark crayon and marred the beauty of the day with harsh words or actions.
It's spring here Honey. The grasses are greening. The blossoms are in bloom. The spring sun is covering the chill of the past months. It's a beautiful time of year, but it's not the same. It's not quite as beautiful as it use to be...when you were here. But I don't say I hope heaven is as beautiful as this is anymore. I know it is and it will be because you are there.
I'll keep watching for my letters.
I love you Far Beyond the 12th of Never.
Susie
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