It's not easy being green

(But it's awesome!)

I had my belt test today. I reached the rank of Gokkyu and earned my green belt!

It wasn't easy. It ended up being a private test, and a really intense workout for over an hour. Toward the end, as I was delivering a series of roundhouse elbow strikes to "Bob" (the standing punching bag) I felt something in my left shoulder go "pop" and then my hand went all tingly and I couldn't raise my arm.

I felt like Daniel-san in The Karate Kid, and I wished for Mr. Miyagi to run into the dojo and rub his hands together and fix my shoulder. But instead I was given an opportunity to defend myself with whatever was still working. I did yet another form without using my left arm, and then I had to exact my revenge on Bob with another fifty strikes, this time using only my right arm and legs. I did some punches and kicks, and then I decided to come crashing down with a full force shuto strike with the side of my right hand onto the top of Bob...

...except the top of Bob wasn't padded. (OWWWWWWW!)

So I'm blogging while I alternate icing my left shoulder and my right hand.

And as I left the studio victorious with my new green belt and matching green t-shirt, I noticed that my new sensei underestimated my normal shirt size and gave me a smaller one. But when I got home and tried it on, it fit! My exuberance over that discovery helped mitigate the intense pain of lifting my arm to try it on.

It's not that easy being green;

Being a Gokkyu with a broken wing.

When I see my hand and shoulder turning black, or blue, or red,

Or something much more colorful like that.

It's not easy being green

It seems I can't do some very ordinary things

And people tend to pass me over 'cause I'm

Wearing the same outfit everyday

(To painful to change clothes).

But green's the color of Spring

And green meant I had balance,

And memory, and neuromuscular strength--

Like a reassuring neuro exam!

When green is all there is to be

It could make you wonder why, but why wonder why?

Wonder, I am green and it'll do fine; it's beautiful --

And I think it's what I want to be!

(until I'm ready for brown stripe...)

Sunday Sermon

We had a great weekend with lots of family in town to celebrate my daughter's third birthday. They also stayed long enough to hear me speak in church today. For those of my family and friends who weren't able to be there, this is what you missed:


In Doctrine & Covenants section 122 the Lord responds to the prophet Joseph Smith, who is in Liberty Jail. After describing many awful possibilities, the Lord said: “…and above all, if the very jaws of hell shall gape open the mouth wide after thee, know thou, my son, that all these things shall give thee experience, and shall be for thy good.”


When I first learned this scripture I wondered how all those terrible things could possibly “give thee experience” and “be for thy good”. Of course, at the time, I was pretty inexperienced with adversity.


Our Heavenly Father designed a great plan of happiness to bring to pass our immortality and eternal lives. And yet this plan of happiness necessarily includes opposition and adversity. When our lives take twists and turns that we don’t expect – or want – we may find ourselves longing for a more predictable and pain-free existence. Something more simple, fair, and controllable.


We must remember that in the premortal existence there was a plan presented, where everything was controlled to ensure a guaranteed outcome. But that plan, presented by Lucifer, was contrary to the will of the Father. It was rejected, and those who supported Lucifer’s plan were cast out. Our existence on this earth is evidence of our willingness to accept the Lord’s way.


The Book of Mormon records Lehi’s counsel to his son Jacob, who had experienced much affliction and sorrow. Lehi taught that in order to accomplish his purposes, the Lord’s plan required an opposition in all things. In order to bring to pass righteousness, the plan allowed for wickedness. In order for us to appreciate joy, we must also be subject to misery.


President Spencer W. Kimball explained this in more detail: “Is there not wisdom in his giving us trials that we might rise above them, responsibilities that we might achieve, work to harden our muscles, sorrows to try our souls? Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?If all the sick for whom we prayed were healed, if all the righteous were protected and the wicked destroyed, the whole program of the Father would be annulled and the basic principle of the gospel, free agency, would be ended. No man would have to live by faith. If joy and peace and rewards were instantaneously given the doer of good, there could be no evil—all would do good but not because of the rightness of doing good. There would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency, only satanic controls.”


After acknowledging the role of adversity in the Lord’s plan, Father Lehi also taught Jacob, “thou knowest the greatness of God; and he shall consecrate thine afflictions for thy gain.”


The same reassurance was given by the Lord to the persecuted saints in Missouri: “Fear not…All things wherewith you have been afflicted shall work together for your good.”


There are many scriptural examples of how this promise is fulfilled, and I’ll name only a few. The more the Israelites were afflicted by the Egyptians, the more they multiplied and grew.


When Alma’s followers were enslaved and threatened, the Lord strengthened them that they could bear up their burdens with ease and submit cheerfully to his will.


Alma the younger described his own repentance process, in which he said that there could be nothing so exquisite and bitter as was his pain and suffering over his sinful state. Yet upon receiving forgiveness he said there was nothing so exquisite and sweet as his joy. His desire from that point forward was to labor without ceasing to bring more souls unto repentance. He taught his sons to rely upon the Lord, testifying, “And I have been supported under trials and troubles of every kind, yea, and in all manner of afflictions…yea, and I do put my trust in him, and he will still deliver me.”


The apostle Paul had what he called "a thorn in the flesh". He prayed for the Lord to take that thorn from him, but instead the Lord replied: "My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness". The prophet Ether received a similar response when the Lord told him, “I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them.”


President Ezra Taft Benson explained: “It is not on the pinnacle of success and ease where men and women grow most. It is often down in the valley of heartache and disappointment and reverses where men and women grow into strong characters.”


Ardeth Greene Kapp said that: “This life experience is designed for our growth and progress. Our trials will not be more than we can handle, but they cannot be less if we are to fill the measure of our creation.” This quote always reminds me of the careful silversmith, who oversees the refining process to bring out all of the potential of the silver while protecting it from damage.


Orson F. Whitney said that, “No pain that we suffer, no trial that we experience is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of such qualities as patience, faith, fortitude, and humility.


And Elder Neal A. Maxwell put it well by saying, “How can you and I really expect to glide naively through life, as if to say, ‘Lord, give me experience, but not grief, not sorrow, not pain, not opposition, not betrayal, and certainly not to be forsaken. Keep from me, Lord, all those experiences which made Thee what Thou art! Then, let me come and dwell with Thee and fully share Thy joy!’” He also said that “For the faithful, there is short-term tribulation but long-term joy.”


Even the Savior, who walked in perfect obedience, needed to experience adversity in order to fulfill his mission. As Alma wrote, “And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; … and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.” The Savior himself said, “In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.” President Hunter said that if our lives and our faith are centered upon Jesus Christ and his restored gospel, nothing can ever go permanently wrong.


As the Lord consecrates our afflictions for our gain, I have pondered how I might in turn consecrate my afflictions for the Lord’s purposes, like the apostle Paul, who gloried and took pleasure in infirmities for Christ's sake.


We don’t always get to choose the circumstances in our lives, but we always get to choose what we will do about them. Viktor Frankl was a Holocaust survivor who wrote about the various reactions he witnessed among concentration camp prisoners. He describes “the last of the human freedoms—to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way." The Book of Mormon also describes the contrasting ways that people responded to adversity. Alma 62:41: “But behold, because of the exceedingly great length of the war between the Nephites and the Lamanites many had become hardened, because of the exceedingly great length of the war; and many were softened because of their afflictions, insomuch that they did humble themselves before God, even in the depth of humility.” We choose whether to allow adversity to be destructive or constructive experiences in our lives.


Elaine Cannon said that “A person who understands that life is schooling is more likely to benefit from adversity than one who expects only happiness in life.”


President Kimball said that “Suffering can make saints of people as they learn patience, long-suffering, and self-mastery.”


Many years ago, during a difficult time in my life, I had a visiting teacher who was going through significant adversity of her own. She was a faithful visiting teacher who focused on my needs, and when she closed her visits with prayer, she always prayed that we might both “quickly learn what we need to learn” from the trials we were facing. I have always remembered and appreciated her choice to learn from adversity.


The Savior suffered all that we suffer, so that he could know how to help us. Likewise, we can choose to develop compassion and empathy for others. We can use our experiences to become instruments in the Lord’s hands, to “mourn with those that mourn” and “comfort those that stand in need of comfort.”


We can also choose to develop gratitude, because adversity reveals things that we may otherwise take for granted. As we take notice and acknowledge the blessings in our lives, and the tender mercies that sustain us through our trials, more of them are revealed to us, and we become like the servant of Elisha, whose eyes were finally opened to see the numerous chariots of fire protecting them against the enemy.


We can also choose to submit ourselves to the Lord’s will, and reap the blessings that come from trusting in him. Howard W. Hunter said that “Peace can come to an individual only by an unconditional surrender to him who is the Prince of peace and who has the power to confer peace.”


The Savior said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth.” He also said, “Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls.” And he said, “Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not.”


In Proverbs we read, “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways, acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.”

In closing I want to quote President Gordon B.Hinckley at a time that must have been his deepest sorrow. From the funeral program for his wife, his words are as follows:
It isn’t as bad as you sometimes think it is.
It all works out.
Don’t worry.
I say that to myself every morning.
It will all work out.
Put your trust in God, and move forward with faith and confidence in the future.
The Lord will not forsake us.
He will not forsake us.
If we will put our trust in Him,
If we will pray to Him,
If we will live worthy of His blessings,
He will hear our prayers."

Someday we will be free from all of our earthly sorrows, but we will get to retain the experience that we have gained. These experiences will be for our good, making us better prepared to realize our greatest potential and our highest joy and fulfillment as children of our loving Heavenly Father. I bear testimony of this in the name of Jesus Christ, amen.

...and THIRTY!

June 12. It's my "baby" brother Blake's birthday (says the half-brained-yet-still-literate alliterate). This cute little guy turns 27.

And not to steal his party, but June 12 is also a birthday of sorts for me.

I know -- I'm really fortysomething, age-wise. But June 12 marks 30 months since my cancer diagnosis and my new "survivor" life began. But I promise not to start whining like the famous Thirtysomething folks.

After all, I'm still alive and kicking. Literally, in fact -- just ask my karate sensei, or "Bob", the standing punching bag that recently got a series of roundhouse blows to the face.

Somebody tell Ted Kennedy. Give him some hope.

Blake is coming up again this weekend for another visit (see, I'm still magnetic!) so we'll be able to celebrate. (With cake!)

Naturally this thought makes Beatles music start playing in (what's left of) my mind:

(na na na na na na)

You say it's your birthday

(na na na na na na)

It's my birthday too, yeah

(na na na na na na)

They say it's your birthday

(na na na na na na)

We're gonna have a good time!

(na na na na na na)

I'm glad it's your birthday

(na na na na na na)

Happy birthday to you!

Keep this picture handy for when things get really bad

This gave me a good immune-boosting laugh! Gotta keep this picture in my wallet in case I need it.

Unexpected side effects from the MRI

Since November 2005 I have made eighteen trips through the MRI tube to get my head examined.

Magnetic Resonance Imaging -- MRI -- is miraculous technology. Here's the half-brained description of how it works:

The scanning tube creates a strong magnetic field. The protons in the gazillions of water molecules in our body align with the magnetic field. A specially designed radio wave flips these protons around, and as they realign themselves they produce a detectable image. Different tissues of the body have protons that realign at different speeds, so it's possible to differentiate and distinguish things like fat, muscle, bone, and (lucky for me) brain tissue in the images.

(All this happens while I lie there for about an hour, pretending that I'm toothpaste in a tube sitting in a very loud laundromat with video games being played in the corner. )

Contrast agents are also used to help highlight blood vessels, tumors, and inflammation. The contrast agent commonly used nowadays is gadolinium, which has potentially serious side effects that are listed on the consent forms that I have to sign each time I go in for a scan. So far I've been lucky to avoid those side effects, and if there are any long-term effects yet to be discovered, I hope to live long enough to get to worry about them.

Surely this much interaction with magnetic fields could eventually turn me into some kind of superhero (yeah, I remember talking about that in my Vector Vision post long ago). But lately I've come to realize that there is another really cool side effect. Apparently I am able to create a strong pull on my family to bring them closer to me! Skeptical? Take a look at the evidence:


1. My dad moved from the Houston area to the Dallas area, and has recently relocated even closer -- just a few blocks away from my house.

2. My brother Mike and his family have moved here from North Carolina.

3. My grandmother relocated from Arizona to Texas. (She'll only be 89 this year, so I got her a bumper sticker that says, "I wasn't born in Texas, but I got here as fast as I could!")

4. My brother Jim and his family came to visit us from Georgia last week, and spent most of their time looking at homes and schools and medical office space, as they are considering moving here to set up his dermatology practice.

5. My brother Blake and his friend also came to visit us, as they have an interest in setting up a business, possibly in our area.

This is just to name a few. I think more family may be heading our way!

And my new "magnetism" has worked on friends, too! We've had great reunions and visits with long-time friends, and one of them has even taken a job in our area and commutes here frequently.

I like it. It's more fun than waiting for people to gather around me at my viewing.

Plus, who knows -- maybe that viewing is still several decades down the road.

No Hope?

I was at the grocery store on Saturday, and as I went through the checkout counter I noticed the first wave of tabloid stories about Senator Kennedy's brain tumor diagnosis, all with their sensational headlines. "SIX MONTHS TO LIVE!" said one. "KENNEDY DEATH WATCH" said another. One had a subtitle: "THERE'S NO HOPE!"

Good thing I never believe the tabloids.

I don't know any details about this person's medical condition, and even if I did -- I'm not a doctor who would be able to know what those details mean. But I do know this: THERE IS HOPE.

In a related story, I recall a conversation with someone who talked about "the worst thing that could happen" to anyone. That person said the worst thing was death. But it's not the worst thing that could happen to anyone. It's the only thing that does happen to everyone at some point. There's a time to be born, and a time to die.

So we're all terminal from the moment of our first breath, although none of us likes to think of it that way. But realizing that death is inevitable (and just at an unknown time to us) should not be a depressing thing. It should certainly not rob hope. After all, it's not the loss of life but the loss of hope that is one of the worst things that could happen to someone.

To quote part of a poem that I shared in a post last year:

If hope is false, then surely I guess,
There must be false hopelessness.
What would it mean to have false hopelessness?
Perhaps that indeed it was true hopefullness.
So let's turn it around, or inside out,
Because hope is something we can't live without.
-- Rebecca Libutti, from That's Unacceptable (2001)



Each day we wake up and do what we can, with an instinctive hope in the promise and opportunity of that day. If we think that our days are numbered less than we'd like, it just makes each day more precious and valuable. That's an economic fact -- they call it "supply and demand".

When we pray for a miracle, we do it with hope in the possibility of a miracle. Hope leads to faith, and faith fuels miracles. Even when adversity isn't spared, miracles in many forms surround the experience. I've seen that happen many times.

When life is not as we expected it to be (and really -- whose actually is precisely how they expected it to be?), it shouldn't rob hope. In fact, it is often in the face of disappointment and readjustment that we find new opportunities.

When mortality confronts us with some advance notice, some consider that lucky. When it confronts us suddenly, it is still viewed as lucky in other ways. When this life is over, all that we lose is this life, and that was the plan from the beginning. Even then, I am grateful to know that there is still much to hope for.

So now the ME spin gets out there!

CNN has invited brain tumor survivors to share their stories online. (Wow -- never thought of doing that before!)

Here's mine:
http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-25079

One More Tu-mor

As soon as I heard the news last week that Senator Ted Kennedy was hospitalized for a seizure, I wondered if he might have a brain tumor. (Seizures were my presenting symptom, too.) And sure enough, today's news about Senator Kennedy's malignant tumor has been flooding the airwaves (even drowning out the primary election going on today, which is the only good thing about this happening).

Our local Fox news station has some video of Dr. Fink (my miracle-working neuro-oncologist) as she discusses the location of the tumor:

http://www.myfoxdfw.com/myfox/pages/News/Detail?contentId=6585574&version=3&locale=EN-US&layoutCode=VSTY&pageId=3.1.1

I liked Dr. Fink's approach because it is straightforward instead of trying to go for the sensationally devastating.

It's so interesting to see how other news coverage portays things to hype up the negative. Although the specific pathology has not been released yet, it seems like every article I read jumps right to the possibility of glioblastoma. (The kind of tumor that I have.)

I kept reading descriptions about how vile and aggressive glioblastoma is. Things like:

"Average survival can range from less than a year for very advanced and aggressive types — such as glioblastomas..." (MSNBC)

"A glioblastoma is the most common brain tumor that affects adults. It is also the most rapidly growing, malignant tumor of the brain with the shortest survival. Death may occur within months. 'It’s the most malignant, the most aggressive, the tumor of the brain associated with the shortest survival,' said Marc Chamberlain, a professor of neurology and director of the Brain Tumor Program at University of Washington, Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center and the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance." (Fox News)

"Average survival can range from three to five years for moderately severe malignant gliomas to less than a year for very advanced and aggressive types such as glioblastomas." (CNN)

There is a different spin, however:

"Glioblastoma is pretty darn serious, and needs a lot of medical attention and prayer. It's like a sixteen-year-old getting their first driver's license. A year later some might be dead, while some might be working on their next karate belt and hoping for another shot at a Messiah solo. There are wonderful treatments that work to preserve both life and quality of life, and we should support the research that brings us these treatments (and hopefully a cure someday). Average side effects of glioblastoma include increased perspective, diminished pettiness, and a swelling of faith." (ME)

Just to clear the air, I am a staunch Texas conservative and superfan of Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck. When it comes to politics, Senator Kennedy and I are diametrically opposed. But we are both children of the same God, and now we are both survivors with something serious on (what's left of) our minds. I wish him all the best, and pray that he and his family will have all that they need right now. I am sure many are praying for him, and I hope he feels the strengthening support of those prayers, as I have felt.

Livestrong Day?

I guess Livestrong Day is like Easter. It may fall on a different date each year.

In the past it has fallen on May 17th, and I just noticed that the Lance Armstrong Foundation celebrated it on May 13th this year.

I've mentioned it before, but May 17th has personal significance. May 17th this year marks a quarter century from the first time I kissed my future husband. It was our third date, and Prince Jared planted his first smooch on me at my doorstep. We were friends for a long time before that, and I had been mooning after him for about six months. I guess he finally decided to be in love with me, too. And it's just gotten better ever since.

So whether or not this is Lance Armstrong's official Livestrong Day, it's kind of mine in a way. I'm lucky to have gotten many more smooches than originally predicted in December 2005.

...and...TWENTY NINE!

Wow -- twenty-nine months!

I'm at that really really short point on the statistical curve as it (hopefully) flattens out for a while. If I go seven more months like this I might reach "long term survivor" status. When I was first diagnosed I thought I'd be really lucky to survive to a point that is now fifteen months back in the distance.

Once in a while something changes in my schedule for the day, and I end up with "found time." I always like to keep things in mind that I can do with those pockets of extra time on my hands -- no matter how small those pockets are.

And here I am with a whole lot of "found time" behind me (and every minute adds to it). I've started taking an inventory of what I have done with that time so far, and what I should be doing. If I had known in December 2005 that I would still be alive and kicking today (literally -- just ask my sensei), would I have done more with this time? Would I have been a lazy bum and done less? Who knows?

Gotta do what we can, while we can. Right now I can drive myself nuts thinking about what to do next with all this "found time".

I prayed a whole lot for this life, and I'm sure that I should give an accounting for what I have done with what I have been given. I feel like one of the servants in the parable of the talents. Whether I get a little bit or a lot doesn't matter as much as what I choose to do with it.

Some things are easy, like hugging my kids and telling my family members how much I love them. We always want one more chance to do that, and I've been blessed with many chances.

Other things are harder and require me to cut out a little circle and write "T U I T T" on it. (Because I'll finally do it when I get "a round TUITT.")

I'll get the scissors and start cutting circles. After all, if I want to try and stretch this out to twenty-nine years, I need to be filling it with a lot of good stuff!

Gonna Whip Cancer

Those who read my blog know that I have a multi-faceted approach to my survival strategy. Those facets include

faith & prayer
friends (especially those who add their own faith and prayers)
family
staying active (in church, at work, and in karate class)
good music
good food
good laughs
and on and on...

Another contributor is my good care; particularly my neuro-oncologist, Dr. Karen Fink. She not only knows the gold standard of care for GBM, but when my tumor became too aggressive for that she had a lot of tricks up her sleeve. Her involvement in research is saving lives, including mine.

I don't know how she does it, because medical insurance does not cover experimental treatments like the ones that worked so well for me. The fact that I was using up over half a million dollars in uncovered chemotherapy never worked its way into our conversations, as she seemed so intently focused on the good results. (And I'm not the only patient in this situation!) Half a million dollars is nothing compared to the value of living days and even years longer than I thought possible. I could never repay what has been done for me. And yet someone has to at least keep funding alive for this life-saving research.

This has been on (what's left of) my mind as I think about how grateful I am for how well things are going. Also on my mind is my friend and fellow Longflicks rocker who is surviving breast cancer that has recently metastasized to her brain. (I had to tease her about quitting trying to compete.)

And it so happens that I have another friend who is a Pampered Chef consultant, AND it so happens that they do fundraisers, AND it so happens that they also have a special "Let's Whip Cancer" program going on this month. I had to jump on this for two reasons:

1. If I host a fundraiser I can have all of the fundraising proceeds go directly to Dr. Fink's research fund. This is one small way to say "thank you" to Dr. Fink.

2. In addition, during the month of May there are some special "Help Whip Cancer" products being offered, and $1 from each one purchased helps support the American Cancer Society's breast cancer education and early detection programs. This is a great way to pay tribute to my survivor friend.

I was a Pampered Chef myself years ago (before my son was born) and I love-love-love their products. I still use my stoneware and cookware and gadgets, and my husband still loves his grilling tools. And their Pantry seasonings are great, too (all natural/no MSG/very yummy). And the cookbooks are awesome, and so on...

I'll end this commercial with a link to a secure website, where you can view and purchase items for this fundraiser online:

http://www.pamperedchef.biz/erlynne?page=products-main&showId=1614774

Remember -- anything purchased from this link will make a contribution to Dr. Fink's cancer research fund. In addition, any of the specially designated "let's whip cancer" products will also contribute to the American Cancer Society's breast cancer programs.

I hope everyone will enjoy helping me whip cancer in a yummy new way!

I have ten weeks left...

...until my next MRI! (I had one today!)

There was an abnormality on today's MRI...
...if you consider it abnormal to have things look so good this far out, with no treatment during the past two months! (I wouldn't call it an abnormality -- I'd call it a miracle!)

There is no progress to report...
...and that's good news in cancer world!

So I go into the hospital on Thursday for an overnight stay...
...to escort my son, who is having his tonsils and adenoids removed!

Gotta run...
...from the angry mob of readers! (You prayed for me and I reward you with sick humor!)

((((BIG HUGS AND THANKS FOR HELPING MAKE ANOTHER MIRACLE!!!))))

Relaying the Relay

Sometimes insomnia pays off!

Relay For Life started on Friday at 7pm with a little chaos for us late registrants, but by the time the opening ceremony got started it was a lot of fun. I heard my name read aloud during the survivor roll call, and was directed through an arch of screaming cheerleaders who presented me with a medallion, and then it was time to line up for the Survivor Lap around the track. My husband and kids joined me for that lap (I was toward the end of the line, where the Caregiver line started for their lap, so we kinda did both). People cheered us on the sidelines, and it almost made all this cancer stuff worth it. :)

By about 8:30 everyone was walking around the track. Relay starts at dusk, representing the time of cancer diagnosis, when things start to get dark and you think your life is ending.

As the night gets colder and darker, it represents the beginning of cancer treatment, when things seem overwhelming and exhausting. As tired and sick as you feel, you mustn't give up. You could still see people taking turns going around the track, and even in the wee hours of the morning people were having dance parties and soccer games to stay awake.

A couple of hours before dawn you're still really tired, but you know you can make it. Dawn represents the end of treatment, when there is a light at the end of the tunnel and a new day full of possibilities (at least after a good nap).

The description in this analogy seemed more dour than my experience. I've been blessed -- my cancer treatments were a breeze compared to the all-night trek! Of course, I'm memory impaired, so that might be why I think that.

We actually cried uncle and headed home around 5 am, when footballs and soccer balls kept flying into our campsite, followed by teenagers who almost trampled our kids who had finally fallen asleep.

Until then, though, it was a lot of fun. This was my dad's first Relay as a fellow survivor (here we are sporting our purple survivor shirts), and this was the third Relay that my son and I participated in together. I ran into a friend who is a long-term cancer survivor, and we did a lap together. At about 2 a.m. my husband and daughter went close to the stage for the dance party, and before long my daughter was pulled onstage and proclaimed the "cutest dancer". Before I could get close enough with my camera she was back down in the audience again, but I got some great footage:



I finally went to sleep at home around 7:30 am and slept for a whole four hours. We spent Saturday afternoon doing some gardening in the backyard, my husband and I spent some time at the temple Saturday evening, and we all had a great night's sleep Saturday night.

All in all, it was a worthwhile experience. Certainly another life-affirming one. I appreciate those who supported Relay For Life and helped me raise money for the American Cancer Society. Much thanks to the Cooper Aerobics Center and our Cooper Cares team! And here's looking forward to Relay #4 next year!

Relay # 3!!!

I can't believe it -- my third Relay For Life event is today! (Well, really tonight. It goes from 7pm to 7am -- because cancer never sleeps!)

Relay For Life is something I thought I was lucky to do once. (Yeah, that picture is me on Relay #1.) And then I thought I was really lucky to do a second one, when my youngest brother invited me to join his Blakinator team in Houston's Relay last year. Now here I am, doing a third Relay tonight in McKinney.

I'm on the Cooper Cares team, and I may stick out (literally) among the Cooper Aerobics Center folks, whose professions are devoted to health and fitness. But that's okay -- it's an awesome group. And I just have to remember when I was a lot heavier and felt self-conscious at the gym. I finally realized -- hey, what could people say? "Get some exercise, Fatty," while I'm on the stairclimber?

(I also used that analogy to help a friend who was single and pregnant and felt self-conscious going to church.)

I'm very grateful to the Cooper folks who are participating this year. Relay For Life is a really great event.

And it's my THIRD!!!

For those who want to support Relay For Life, please visit my Relay homepage at:

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RelayForLifeHighPlainsDivision?px=4172701&pg=personal&fr_id=6016

Do you hear what I hear?

They say you don't fully appreciate something until it's gone. In my case, something has been gone for two years and I didn't even realize it. That something was my ability to hear.

Today, after a painful labor and delivery process, my ENT was able to finally extract the remaining plug from deep inside my right ear. He showed it to me. It was the size of an earplug, and it was mostly dead skin, mixed with wax and hardened over the last two years in response to the radiation that pummeled the right side of my head during my initial treatment.

When I got in the car to drive home, I noticed that the car was making lots of strange, loud noises. (It was the engine running.) I kept fumbling for the window buttons, because I kept hearing the roar of gusting winds. (It was regular street noise; my windows were closed.) When I got home and pushed the button to close the garage door I was startled by the initial sound, and figured something must be wrong with the motor. (Nah.) As I write this I am astounded by the sound of my fingers clacking on the keyboard. How am I not waking everyone up with this racket?

I talked to my mom on the phone, and she said I wasn't shouting into the phone like I normally do. Conversely, my husband commented that I wasn't whispering when I talked to him, like I normally do when we are in the same room together. Until today I had no idea how loudly or softly I was speaking, because it was all just a mess of vibrations. Now when I talk, I actually hear my voice. It's so weird! It sounds like an echo with some strange person's voice in there. She sounds like she has a cold or something (or maybe she's just getting over the flu).

I realized that whenever we watched a movie at home I always put on the closed captioning. I could always hear the talking, but not well enough to make out the words. It was a subtle thing that I chalked up as bad sound quality, not hearing loss. But now I'm realizing how much my hearing has been impaired all this time, and how much I've been missing, and how good it is to have it restored. One more thing to be thankful for -- ears to hear. Something I thought I had all along, but now I know I have more.

I was so excited, I went out and bought a cd of Mozart music. I've been able to hear (and sing) and thoroughly enjoy music all this time, but now it's a little different and a little better. I can't wait for the next opportunity to sing something.

The joy is tempered somewhat by the fact that my ear is still really super tender. It's allergy season, and this ear can no longer be rubbed when it itches. And when I blew my nose this afternoon, I learned how much pressure that puts on the eardrum, and I also learned that there was, in fact, something even more painful than the procedure in the ENT office this morning. I get to try some sterile anti-inflammatory drops tonight, and I go back in two weeks to see how things are looking. (Or sounding.)

What a strange day! "Surprise -- you've been deaf for two years, and didn't even know it! But you're better now -- how'z that sound?"

And of course, this experience made me (pardon the ear pun) wax philosophical about life. (Everything's a blog topic, it seems -- even nasty ear stuff.) We are so dependent upon the tangible, the tactile, the things we can personally see, hear, touch, or taste. Such dependence makes our reasoning infantile and limited, because we go through life partially blind and deaf, thinking we can see and hear it all, but being completely oblivious to the full range of possibilities.

I recently heard a critic of my faith demand some kind of "proof". I have seen friends struggle with disappointment and grief, not understanding "why" something so unfair and senseless has happened to them. I have listened to people express fears about the future, because they can't see far enough to know what will happen to them. Their universe is restricted to what they can personally perceive and reason in the here and now, and it diminishes their ability to experience a fulness of possibilities.

Suddenly I'm hearing Barbra Streisand in Yentl:

It all began the day I found

That from my window I could only see a piece of sky.

I stepped outside and looked around.

I never dreamed it was so wide, or even half as high...

She goes on, and then later she concludes, "With all there is, why settle for just a piece of sky?"

Why live in fear and doubt and limitation because we rely on our own little piece of sky? No wonder the scriptures teach us to avoid trusting in the arm of flesh. (In my case it was the "ear of flesh!")

"When they are learned they think they are wise, and they hearken not unto the counsel of God, for they set it aside, supposing they know of themselves. Wherefore, their wisdom is foolishness and it profiteth them not." (2 Nephi 9:28)
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord..." (Isaiah 55:8)
"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding..." (Proverbs 3:5)
"Look unto me in every thought; doubt not, fear not..." (Doctrine & Covenants 6:36)
"Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid." (John 14:27)

Now that I have a better sense of hearing I can appreciate how much I had lost, and how much better things can sound. It was previously beyond my comprehension. Likewise, at times when I have turned parts of my life over to the Lord (whose perception is infinitely more broad than my own) I have come to recognize possibilities and blessings that were previously beyond my comprehension. Those experiences build hope and faith in times that would otherwise be ripe with fear and despair.

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound...

...and TWENTY-EIGHT!

Those who know me well know that my ultimate favorite movie of all time is Gone With the Wind, but once in a while I swerve into other movie obsessions.

My latest, Amadeus, is a throwback to my college years, when it was fairly new and we had to watch it for music appreciation class at BYU. I loved it back then, and it recently came back into my nostalgia movie lineup. So now when I am staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night I keep reliving Mozart music from the movie. I just tell myself that the music is therapeutic to my brain (hopefully counteracting the deleterious effects of sleep deprivation).

There is a scene in the movie where Mozart is trying to persuade the emperor of Vienna to permit him to proceed with his opera, "The Marriage of Figaro." He describes a unique part of the opera, and asks the emperor to guess how long he can sustain it:

"Guess! Guess, Majesty. Imagine the longest time such a thing could last, then double it!"

Along with the music, that line from the movie keeps resonating in (what's left of) my mind. Because if we take the best-case median survival of a GBM patient at the time I was diagnosed (14 months, based on the Temodar drug study) --then double it -- and add one day -- that's where I am! Twenty-eight months and counting. This experience has been masterfully composed by Someone much better than Mozart.

Twenty-eight months, and all I have to worry about before my next MRI is this nasty flu and a blocked ear and a record streak of insomnia . (Think of how long a person can go without sleep and double that, too, I guess -- you'd think I'd have another book written by now!)

Aww...FLU-eey!

My son tested positive for flu yesterday -- his second one this season, despite flu shots for our whole family. This explains why my sinus infection hasn't cleared up as fast as I'd have liked -- I must have it, too. Luckily my fever is finally on the way down, while his is up. My husband came home from work early yesterday with fever and flu symptoms, too, and our daughter seems to be next in line. There's nothing like a house filled with flu to bring a family together.

We had a moment of excitement in the middle of the night when our son had a bad reaction to the Tamiflu he was prescribed. He came running into our room, screaming and delusional -- and sound asleep. It was freaky. He had several major night terrors, so the Tamiflu went down the drain. He'll have to ride out the flu the old-fashioned way like we do -- homemade chicken soup and lots of rest and fluids.

Speaking of fluids, it's kind of gross but funny -- as I cleaned his vomit off the kitchen floor yesterday I automatically remembered our childless days, when I would fantasize about such an opportunity to care for a sick child of my own. I realized it was a privilege.

It reminded me of an earlier realization that I'm sure I've blogged about before. But I shared it today with my son as we were both feeling miserable. I explained that we were born into this world to receive a body, and although we knew it was one that would get sick and hurt and eventually die, we shouted for joy at the idea (Job 38:7). The evil spirits who were willing to enter into swine (Mark 5:3) are a reminder of how lucky we are to have an earthly home (albeit an imperfect one) for our spirits. Like a cute little kid who throws up in my kitchen, having a body that can get flu or cancer or night terrors is a privilege.

When we feel sick and hurt we can remember that we were happy to get to have these bodies, and after we die we will look forward to a resurrected body that will not have to deal with illness or pain or death ever again.

And our kitchen floors will probably be easier to keep clean.

Okay, now I'm REALLY sick!

I thought cancer was a challenge. (It really is.) But I have mercifully not felt very "sick" in a long time. In fact, when my husband and kids get sick I always joke about being the only healthy one in the house, because I "just" have cancer.

Until this week.

Apparently my body can handle cancer and chemotherapy for more than 2 years, but give it a little sinus infection, and I'm down for the count! (Did I miss karate class when I had chemo and they blew a vein in my arm? No. Did I miss karate class last night? You betcha!)

I also became a medical hot potato.

Monday night I came down with sinus congestion/drainage and coughing with high fever and chills. My husband called our bishop, and together they gave me a priesthood blessing, which really helped me get a good night's rest.

On Tuesday I had an appointment with an ear/nose/throat specialist to take care of my right ear (which is completely blocked with 2 years' worth of wax and dried skin debris -- a natural reaction to the radiation treatments). While I was getting my ear sandblasted I mentioned the ongoing fever and sinus congestion/drainage. The ENT doctor immediately waved it aside as a matter for my general practitioner. (I guess he thought my sinuses were in my elbow or something else outside of his Ear/Nose/Throat domain.)

As soon as I left the ENT's office I called my general practitioner, who was already gone for the day. (It was not quite 3:00.) The best his office could do was make an appointment for the following day. ("But I have a fever of 102. Can you call and have him phone in a prescription?" "We can call him, but he'll just tell you to see him in the morning.")

I then called my neuro-oncologist's office, but everyone was out, and I was reminded by the receptionist that they would have referred me to my general practitioner anyway.

So off I went to my local urgent care facility ("Doc-in-a-Box"), where I was seen by a nurse practitioner who treated me like I was radioactive as soon as she saw "cancer" on my chart. I used to be on chemotherapy, so I am obviously immunosuppressed and should get a chest x-ray to check for pneumonia because I coughed. (No, I've been vaccinated against pneumonia, and I've been off chemotherapy for over a month now, and my last labwork was great -- I'm not immunosuppressed. And I don't want unnecessary radiation -- I get enough from my cell phone. And I'm certain that the cough might have something to do with the massive sinus drainage that keeps my head from exploding).

I was finally diagnosed with a sinus infection -- in my NASAL SINUSES (which made even the Doc-in-a-Box people scratch their heads about the ENT not wanting to get involved). They were afraid to prescribe me an antibiotic because I'm "already on SO many medications." (Not really -- just my seizure medicine and a prescription B-complex supplement.) After much consultation with the M.D. who runs the place, they finally decided on a really powerful antibiotic with all kinds of nasty side effects (nightmares and other neurological problems that I already need to be careful about, kidney failure, and probably leprosy and ugly toes, too). No, they didn't want to prescribe the antibiotic I've safely used before, because it only works well for upper respiratory infections (you mean, like sinus infections?) and the scary antibiotic also covers pneumonia in case I have it (BUT I DON'T HAVE IT).



By evening I finally had the right antibiotic in hand, so hopefully soon I'll be on the mend and back to worrying about important things like fighting cancer.

Actually, the one nice thing about this experience was seeing the look on the ENT's face when he read my new patient history form and asked me about the kind of tumor I had. When I told him, he said with astonishment, "You've had that for nearly 2 1/2 years?" I nodded and acknowledged that I was a walking miracle, and yes I already knew that 2/3 of patients supposedly die the first year. He shook his head and said, "More like 90 percent."

Who knows where he got that number. Maybe that statistic doesn't factor in things like prayer and Dr. Fink and the Lord's timetable. I also wonder how much of that 90 percent comes from:

• medical hot potatoes that get dropped
• nasty side effects of over-vigilant antibiotic administration to cure non-existent pneumonia
• exsanguination (bleeding to death) or infection from excessive head scratching or hair pulling
• high blood pressure, aneurysm, stroke -- whatever -- during periods of peak frustration
• car accidents during excessive travel around the medical community
• concussions from being "bounced" between doctors
• complications from untreated sinus infections or other ills that put cancer patients squarely into the medical community's "no man's land."

In any case, I am truly blessed. As a friend of mine said, we need to keep the "prayer garlic" around our necks to keep warding off the real threats to my life (and she's right) but I also intersperse those prayers with prayers of gratitude for the miracles that have preserved and blessed my life for another season.

! EMIT NI SDRAWKCAB GNIGGOLB M'I

(Only a brain-tumor savant can come up with a title like that, right?)

To quote Ferris Bueller, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while you could miss it."

I have so much to catch up on, so here's a pretty fast rundown of my recent life...in reverse:


1. Karate belt test and 2. Beowulf:

I already posted about these before I decided to catch up in reverse order. So keep on scrolling past this post and you'll find them.

3. Spring break in Nauvoo:


We drove the kiddos to Nauvoo, Illinois, for a tour of that historic place. We had twelve hours (each way) of bonding in the car. (When I say bonding, of course, I actually mean hearing "are we in Nauvoo yet?" for twelve hours, interspersed with occasional songs.)


We stayed with friends who were very gracious and generous hosts. They even watched the kids so my husband and I could attend the Nauvoo temple. The rest of our activities were very kid-friendly: we went on a wagon ride through the city and saw fun demonstrations of frontier life in the mid-1800's. We also gained an appreciation for the early pioneers who fled religious persecution in Missouri and took refuge in this swampy land by the Mississippi River and made it a beautiful, prosperous city before being forced to migrate westward.


I remember hearing many times that these people endured hardships because of their faith, and that if we have faith we will also be able to endure all that we must face in our lifetimes. That is absolutely true.

As a -- pardon the pun -- side trip, I should mention that during the ride home we decided to read a novel together. I chose Tuck Everlasting, which is on Laura Bush's list of favorite children's literature. (I own all the books on her list.) Tuck Everlasting is a wonderful story that makes you think about whether you would choose to live forever at the same age. It was obviously relevant and very blog-worthy. We had some thoughtful discussions as a family (in-between songs and "Are we home yet?" questions).

4. Homecoming Day:

We traditionally celebrate our son's "homecoming day" with a family picture. You'll see it in my earlier post (below) -- we're in our karate uniforms.

5. Lego my Party:

I mentioned our son's birthday a while ago. He turned the big seven. I remember telling my mom how amazing it was that the little baby boy we brought home is now seven years old. She responded by telling me how amazing it was that the little baby girl she brought home is now that little boy's mom.

We celebrated with a Lego-themed party. In my completely unbiased opinion as the half-brains behind the event, I thought it was fabulous. The cake was easier this year (compared to last year's Star Wars/R2D2 cake). I made the number seven out of Lego-brick shapes constructed of cake rectangles topped with Oreo cookies to make the "bumps". We had freestyle building contests where everyone got an award for something like "Most Creative Use of Green Blocks", etc. We had them team up and race to build something from a pattern. We did the pinata. My husband made a 2-D donkey out of Legos, and they had to pin a Lego "tail" on the donkey. They had to guess how many Legos were in a jar. And so on. We had a fun time, and it was a joy once again to celebrate another birthday with my boy.

6. By this shall men know...

My Relief Society president was eager to know the outcome of my last MRI, so as soon as I left the doctor's office I gave her a call with the good news. She was elated, and asked if she could come by for a visit. We arranged a time early in the following afternoon.

I expected her to come either alone or with her counselors and secretary. However, when I opened the door to greet her I was surprised to find that there were many cars pulling up and parking in front of my house. Women from church were coming by the droves, wearing yellow shirts and carrying yellow helium balloons, and rushing in with hugs and congratulations. One brought a bouquet of yellow flowers. Another brought a platter of cupcakes with homemade yellow icing. Another brought Krispy Kreme donuts with lemon filling. (Someone pointed out to me that the yellow theme was symbolic of the yellow Livestrong bracelet that I always wear.) It was a surprise party -- FOR ME!!

It was so wonderful to share this happy moment with my "sisters." As I absorbed this parade of kind friends, eager to celebrate with me, I remembered an earlier parade. Two years ago, when I couldn't drive and I couldn't even lift my own daughter, these same women were at my doorstep with a continuous stream of service to meet my every need. They were there for me when things were really bad, and now they are here for me while I enjoy a season of good news. Some women could not come to the celebration, but they sent cards and emails, they phoned me and they hugged me the next Sunday in church.

Many thanked ME for inspiring them. I thought it was funny. All I did was keep breathing for the past 27 months. They were the ones who took care of me and my family. They prayed and fasted and exercised great faith on my behalf. They are the ones who have inspired me and kept me going.

Every time I consider all that has been done for me I kept remembering John 13:35: "By this shall all men know that ye are my disciples, if ye have love one to another."

I have been in the midst of many disciples.

Earned My Stripe

"1st Rokkyu"

That's short for "blue with green stripe." I think of it as "blue-and-a-half." It's my latest rank achievement in karate following a grueling two-hour test on Saturday.

It was awesome, though. Sensei joked about it being like childbirth, where the exhiliration of the outcome makes you forget the pain. (We discussed it theoretically, of course, as neither he nor I have given birth.) It was a painful test at times, especially when I got a couple of accidental palm heel strikes to my head by a fellow student (who had to pay with 25 pushups and a stern warning from the instructor that "sorry" doesn't take the hurt away). But I continued to marvel that -- wow -- I am doing this cool stuff! I am doing pushups with a group of people on a cement parking lot behind the studio (and thank goodness it's not raining)! Wow -- now I am standing tall in a sweaty dojo in front position with hands clasped and elbows up and arms shaking, trying not to pass out because I forgot to eat breakfast--and lunch--before coming! Wow -- now I am doing Kata #2 forms over and over again for different instructors! Wow -- I am remembering kenpos and defensive maneuvers and keeping my balance! Wow -- I wonder if that palm heel strike is going to show up on my next MRI! Wow -- I am sweating like a pig...and only people who are ALIVE can do that!!!

Besides -- and I've said it before -- karate is like the ultimate neuro test. I needed to demonstrate memory, reflexes, neuromuscular strength, and balance. I've been off chemotherapy for almost a month now. I'm still riding on some prayers, although many people think I'm cured which makes me worry about "prayer tapering". So it's nice to have this test to reassure me that-- so far at least (knock wood)-- things must still be going okay!

I celebrated with a badly needed session with Carlos the Magnificent, for a new cut and highlights.

During the test my husband earned his orange belt, having just started a couple of months ago. (His test only took one hour.) He shed his yellow belt, so I don't get to tease him about being a yellow-belly anymore. My son had his own test a little while ago -- he's my Little Boy Blue -- just barely in my wake. My daughter has her own gi and took a few lessons herself. We decided that the family that kicks together...sticks together!

By the way, the picture posted here is misleading -- it was taken a couple of weeks before the test, so we're wearing outdated belts (and I'm sporting roots). But this is our annual "homecoming day" family picture and it was worth sharing here since it's karate-themed.

It's on to green for me now. As Kermit said, "it's not easy..." but as with life, the joy is in the journey!

WHITE*

YELLOW

ORANGE**

PURPLE

BLUE***

BLUE/GREEN****

GREEN

GREEN/BROWN

BROWN (3 LEVELS)

BLACK

*Em's rank

**Prince Jared's rank

***Jake's rank

****Half-brain's rank