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!
Friday, June 13, 2014
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
Tuesday, April 29, 2014
Cancer- What About Hair
One thing that Danny said attracted him to me was 1. When he would whistle at me as I was walking down the street, I would ignore him, and 2. My hair. Back in those times ( a long, long time ago) my hair came down between my shoulders. It wasn't exceptionally long, but considering the style of the times, it was. After we married, I kept it long because he liked it. At the time we moved to Alaska in 2009, my hair fell to my knees. I kept it rolled in a french-twist during the day because in the work field I felt it was more business-like having it up, but he loved it when I wore it down.
When we moved to Alaska, we were surprised at how awful the water was. When we thought of Alaska, we pictured pristeen streams with clear blue water finding its way over cobblestones. In Salcha where we lived, the water coming out of the taps was yellow. It smelled of rotten eggs. The bathtub and toilets needed cleaned everyday or else they would coat with an orangish/yellow film. This was normal for the area. After a few weeks of washing my hair with that water, it felt more like straw than hair. When I came to Utah back for a few weeks in 2010 to take care of some business, I made a rash decision. I cut my hair off. I had called Danny prior and explained that if I was going to live in Alaska, it and long hair just wouldn't work. He agreed with me. When he met me at the airport, he was sitting at the base of the escalator when I came down. He didn't even recognize me until I walked up and kissed him. He didn't like it like he did my long hair, but he loved me anyway. When Danny died and I moved back to Utah, I let my hair grow out again...for him.
I was destined for chemotherapy and felt it was time to do something about the hair I was most likely to lose. Susan and I made a trip to Orem to Diane's Wig shop and I tried on about every wig in the store. We settled on one that was pretty much my natural hair color. I also tried on one that was gray. If my hair came back in gray, perhaps instead of trying to keep it colored, I would just let it be. I didn't look as bad in gray hair as I thought I would. Next, I decided I would cut my hair while I still could and give it to Locks of Love. As long as I had to go through this, I figured I might as well try to make something positive come out of it. With Shannon and Haley here with me, I decided I had the moral support I needed to go make the first step of the change that was coming. Haley called and got an appointment with a stylist at the Orem Mall and we set of to complete step one. As I was getting ready to leave the house, my daughter-in-law hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and told me she was sorry I had to get my hair cut. Taking a deep breath, I told her it was okay. My hair didn't define who I was as a person. She hugged me again and told me no it didn't. I also knew that wherever it was Danny was at, waiting for me, he would love me with long hair, short hair or no hair.
I had decided to take this hair deal in steps. First, I would cut it short and then when the time came for chemotherapy I would have my head shaved. Having my head shaved seemed harsh to me. I have had short hair and knew I could deal with it, but having no hair was something I was going to need to adjust too. Even with a wig, that I decided no one would see me without, I would still be the one looking in the mirror. As I sit here writing this today, and with chemo looming in the near future, I know it is something I will need to "Sophia Up" and deal with. Sophia is my little mom who raised and supported nine children, some during the depression era. It has been her strength I have drawn upon so many times throughout my life.
Tomorrow is my appointment with my oncologist. Mom will be with me.
When we moved to Alaska, we were surprised at how awful the water was. When we thought of Alaska, we pictured pristeen streams with clear blue water finding its way over cobblestones. In Salcha where we lived, the water coming out of the taps was yellow. It smelled of rotten eggs. The bathtub and toilets needed cleaned everyday or else they would coat with an orangish/yellow film. This was normal for the area. After a few weeks of washing my hair with that water, it felt more like straw than hair. When I came to Utah back for a few weeks in 2010 to take care of some business, I made a rash decision. I cut my hair off. I had called Danny prior and explained that if I was going to live in Alaska, it and long hair just wouldn't work. He agreed with me. When he met me at the airport, he was sitting at the base of the escalator when I came down. He didn't even recognize me until I walked up and kissed him. He didn't like it like he did my long hair, but he loved me anyway. When Danny died and I moved back to Utah, I let my hair grow out again...for him.
I was destined for chemotherapy and felt it was time to do something about the hair I was most likely to lose. Susan and I made a trip to Orem to Diane's Wig shop and I tried on about every wig in the store. We settled on one that was pretty much my natural hair color. I also tried on one that was gray. If my hair came back in gray, perhaps instead of trying to keep it colored, I would just let it be. I didn't look as bad in gray hair as I thought I would. Next, I decided I would cut my hair while I still could and give it to Locks of Love. As long as I had to go through this, I figured I might as well try to make something positive come out of it. With Shannon and Haley here with me, I decided I had the moral support I needed to go make the first step of the change that was coming. Haley called and got an appointment with a stylist at the Orem Mall and we set of to complete step one. As I was getting ready to leave the house, my daughter-in-law hugged me, kissed me on the cheek and told me she was sorry I had to get my hair cut. Taking a deep breath, I told her it was okay. My hair didn't define who I was as a person. She hugged me again and told me no it didn't. I also knew that wherever it was Danny was at, waiting for me, he would love me with long hair, short hair or no hair.
I had decided to take this hair deal in steps. First, I would cut it short and then when the time came for chemotherapy I would have my head shaved. Having my head shaved seemed harsh to me. I have had short hair and knew I could deal with it, but having no hair was something I was going to need to adjust too. Even with a wig, that I decided no one would see me without, I would still be the one looking in the mirror. As I sit here writing this today, and with chemo looming in the near future, I know it is something I will need to "Sophia Up" and deal with. Sophia is my little mom who raised and supported nine children, some during the depression era. It has been her strength I have drawn upon so many times throughout my life.
Tomorrow is my appointment with my oncologist. Mom will be with me.
Saturday, April 26, 2014
Cancer-Need to Tell My Children
As I hung up the phone from talking to my doctor, my cute little daughter-in-law was in the kitchen fixing dinner. She had overheard my conversation.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "What do I do? What should I do? I know. I'll give you a hug."
Her hug was just what I needed.
I called my kids and told them. "Mom, that's not a funny April Fool's joke!" Haley said. I hadn't realized it was April Fool's Day. Then I called my sister Lola. She and I have been so worried about coming down with Alzheimer's Disease. Our mother died of it along with our sisters Mary, Fran and Jeri. Our brother Chris was also diagnosed with it. Alzheimer's was the monster that lurked in the shadows of our minds; one we were afraid would rear it's ugly head and attack the two of us. Cancer had sneaked up on me. To say to myself "I have cancer" seemed surreal. I sat for a few minutes and let it settle in and then I did what was perfectly normal. I went to Rainee's to have her put a rinse on my hair.
So many times in my life as a mother, my children and their warped senses of humor is what has saved my sanity (or lack thereof). I sat on the stool as Rainee squeezed color onto my hair and laughed.
"You know Mom," she said, "if you make the decision you don't want to do chemo or any of that stuff, I will take the money out of my 401K and we will take off and see the world. We'll go anyplace you want to go. I'll call the travel channel and tell them my mom is dying of cancer and I am taking her out to fill her bucket list. They will be following us all around the world taping our adventure. Just one thing though mom. Don't get upset with me if I use the "F" word."
"You're not going to say the "F word," I told her. "The whole world will be watching us."
"We should be able to make a lot of money, mom. We could make enough to have all the kids come along with us. In that case, I definately will be saying the "F" word."
"Mom, I can cancel my trip this weekend," she said. She and her husband had scheduled a trip to Cancun.
"You don't need to cancel your trip," I told her. "There is nothing you can do right now. I had an appointment scheduled with the surgeon and Lola was going with me.
My appointment was for two days later at 1:45. We had it arranged that Lola drive down from Centerville, would pick me up and we would go to Provo together. At 11:00 the surgeon's office called. They needed me to come right in. I called Lola and told her she didn't need to come. I was headed straight to the office. I met with him and surgery was scheduled for the following Wednesday on April 9. The type of cancer I had was Triple Negative. It is a pretty agressive type of cancer; the type that would need surgery and then chemotherapy.
When I got out of the doctor's office I saw Lola had tried to call me. She had come down anyway and met me to go to lunch.
I went home afterward and laid down on my bed. I was so tired, I fell sound asleep. Suddenly a voice said "Hey, Mom!" I sat up startled out of my sleep. I thought Mark had come in and needed something, but when I sat up, no one was there. I know it was Daren letting me know he was with me.
Rainee left for Cancun on April 6th and I told her I would come over and stay a few days wtih Raydan while they were gone. Susan said she would pick me up at Rainee's at six in the morning the day of my surgery and take me to Provo to the hospital.
I heard her car pull in and heard her talking to someone. I thought perhaps she was talking to her husband on the phone, but when I opened the door there she stood with Sheree. Sheree had driven down from Idaho the night before. We met Lola at the hospital and with my little army of loving soldiers waiting for me, I entered surgery.
The summer after Daren died, I dowloaded some songs onto my iphone that I would walk to. The songs were ones that meant a lot to me and Danny and then ones we had played at Daren's funeral. Whenever I would start walking, the songs would shuffle and the first song to play would be Dean Martin singing "Everyboyd Loves Somebody Sometime". As I was rolled into the surgical room, that was the song that was playing over the intercom. Tears started rolling down my cheeks and the little nurse asked "Are you okay?" I was so okay. Danny was there with me.
Surgery went well. The lump was removed along with about a 4" diameter to make certain they got it all. As they rolled me back into recovery, two additional faces greeted me. Shannon and Haley had flown in from Alaska. Once again the tears came. I'm so blessed to be so loved.
"I'm so sorry," she said. "What do I do? What should I do? I know. I'll give you a hug."
Her hug was just what I needed.
I called my kids and told them. "Mom, that's not a funny April Fool's joke!" Haley said. I hadn't realized it was April Fool's Day. Then I called my sister Lola. She and I have been so worried about coming down with Alzheimer's Disease. Our mother died of it along with our sisters Mary, Fran and Jeri. Our brother Chris was also diagnosed with it. Alzheimer's was the monster that lurked in the shadows of our minds; one we were afraid would rear it's ugly head and attack the two of us. Cancer had sneaked up on me. To say to myself "I have cancer" seemed surreal. I sat for a few minutes and let it settle in and then I did what was perfectly normal. I went to Rainee's to have her put a rinse on my hair.
So many times in my life as a mother, my children and their warped senses of humor is what has saved my sanity (or lack thereof). I sat on the stool as Rainee squeezed color onto my hair and laughed.
"You know Mom," she said, "if you make the decision you don't want to do chemo or any of that stuff, I will take the money out of my 401K and we will take off and see the world. We'll go anyplace you want to go. I'll call the travel channel and tell them my mom is dying of cancer and I am taking her out to fill her bucket list. They will be following us all around the world taping our adventure. Just one thing though mom. Don't get upset with me if I use the "F" word."
"You're not going to say the "F word," I told her. "The whole world will be watching us."
"We should be able to make a lot of money, mom. We could make enough to have all the kids come along with us. In that case, I definately will be saying the "F" word."
"Mom, I can cancel my trip this weekend," she said. She and her husband had scheduled a trip to Cancun.
"You don't need to cancel your trip," I told her. "There is nothing you can do right now. I had an appointment scheduled with the surgeon and Lola was going with me.
My appointment was for two days later at 1:45. We had it arranged that Lola drive down from Centerville, would pick me up and we would go to Provo together. At 11:00 the surgeon's office called. They needed me to come right in. I called Lola and told her she didn't need to come. I was headed straight to the office. I met with him and surgery was scheduled for the following Wednesday on April 9. The type of cancer I had was Triple Negative. It is a pretty agressive type of cancer; the type that would need surgery and then chemotherapy.
When I got out of the doctor's office I saw Lola had tried to call me. She had come down anyway and met me to go to lunch.
I went home afterward and laid down on my bed. I was so tired, I fell sound asleep. Suddenly a voice said "Hey, Mom!" I sat up startled out of my sleep. I thought Mark had come in and needed something, but when I sat up, no one was there. I know it was Daren letting me know he was with me.
Rainee left for Cancun on April 6th and I told her I would come over and stay a few days wtih Raydan while they were gone. Susan said she would pick me up at Rainee's at six in the morning the day of my surgery and take me to Provo to the hospital.
I heard her car pull in and heard her talking to someone. I thought perhaps she was talking to her husband on the phone, but when I opened the door there she stood with Sheree. Sheree had driven down from Idaho the night before. We met Lola at the hospital and with my little army of loving soldiers waiting for me, I entered surgery.
The summer after Daren died, I dowloaded some songs onto my iphone that I would walk to. The songs were ones that meant a lot to me and Danny and then ones we had played at Daren's funeral. Whenever I would start walking, the songs would shuffle and the first song to play would be Dean Martin singing "Everyboyd Loves Somebody Sometime". As I was rolled into the surgical room, that was the song that was playing over the intercom. Tears started rolling down my cheeks and the little nurse asked "Are you okay?" I was so okay. Danny was there with me.
Surgery went well. The lump was removed along with about a 4" diameter to make certain they got it all. As they rolled me back into recovery, two additional faces greeted me. Shannon and Haley had flown in from Alaska. Once again the tears came. I'm so blessed to be so loved.
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