Every Breath We Take

Geoff is at a funeral right now. One of his friends, (a co-worker) died on Christmas day. This was a man he met just this last year, right after I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Right before my diagnosis, this man was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. When he heard about me - Geoff and he began talking. I remember Geoff coming home so sad about this man's condition. As his condition worsened, Geoff watched him get thinner and thinner. I think seeing this man, and also knowing him - and the fact that he didn't have much time left, made Geoff realize how lucky we really were. And the whole time, this man would ask Geoff how I was doing. He was praying for me! He knew he didn't have much time left, and yet he was thinking of me. This last week, the hospital sent him home. He could barely eat. In fact, I believe Geoff told me that he couldn't eat anymore. I can't imagine being sent home from the hospital basically,... to die.

I don't think I will ever know how truly lucky I was - that my cancer was found so early. I can't imagine being diagnosed with cancer and knowing I only have a little bit of time left before I will die. Life as I know it, simply existing - effortlessly inhaling and exhaling breath,... is something I don't even think about. It is something I take for granted. Even after having a double mastectomy and going through all the recovery - I still can't relate to the fact that I could have so easily died! Never having pain or symptoms, and how I bounced back so easily after my surgeries - my whole cancer experience still seems so surreal.

And this man,... after opening his Christmas presents,..... died. I can't even imagine. As I write this, I have a really bad headache - one that is quickly turning into a migraine. But at least I can feel this pain. I am alive to have this headache. I think of this man, and of my father who passed away two years ago - and I can't imagine not being! All of us who just took a breath of air without thinking, without even realizing it - please know how lucky we are. Say a prayer for someone out there who is not so healthy or so fortunate.

And......

when this brief life

has ended,

.... the angels

shall lift us

on golden wings,

.... into the Light

from which we came.

Hell has GOT to be better than this!

I know I still have to break down and tell the hellacious story of LICE that our family lovingly received from WHO KNOWS WHERE, but it is such an exhausting experience, that I have been procrastinating. Maybe when I'm 90 and after going through hypnosis, I will be able to pull it from the depths of my mind (where I have blissfully hidden it away) and relive it. But anyway,... yesterday I felt I could NOT catch my breath in my insane race of life, merely surviving, the ridiculousness of children, evil errands, being a mom, and did I say life already? After running all over the earth and back doing errands, trying to pacify Hannah with some kind of craft,.... making phone calls and being made to wait for HOURS while customer service reps put me on hold and (I seriously believe) they must lay their heads down and take a nap - and just slaving around the house, I finally took a deep breath and tried to stop my erratic heartbeat and keep myself from having a nervous breakdown.

Of course, I could NOT keep still and simply relax. I needed to vacuum. Had such a deep urge,... an obsession because I was sick and tired of wiping my bare feet onto my pant leg to remove debris that had collected on the bottom of my bare feet simply from walking across my carpet or kitchen floor. I turned on Christmas music, gently stoked the fire and began my new task. Oh! The sheer pleasure of losing myself in vacuuming! I felt my shoulders relax. I felt a smile began to replace the "I'm going to die right NOW!" scowl that lately has branded my face. I was in heaven.

When out of nowhere, my back door burst open and London whirled in from getting off the bus. With her powerful, usual hyperactive energy, she took a moment (just for extra effect...) and just stood there - staring at me. Oh no, I thought. What is it? Surely, even at this time of year - 7 days away from Christmas, there could not be another miracle in history! But by the look on her face, I clearly knew London was pregnant - at 9 without yet ever having her period! But hey,..... a miraculous conception has been known to have happened before, right? I waited for her bomb to hit as she stared me down, and then finally announced that the older sister of the girl across the street had lice. LICE? LICE did you say? I think by this time, I would rather hear that I had breast cancer all over again!! In fact,... I would give anything for London to actually BE pregant - at 9, (without yet having her period) before I wanted lice AGAIN!

And then as I stood in bare feet on my kitchen floor, the vacuum still gracefully held by my beautiful, motherly hand - Haven reached up and took a plastic cup from the counter. NOTE: This plastic cup contained a Christmas ornament London had made the night before by pouring PAINT inside a clear, ROUND, glass ball ornament. The ornament sat IN the cup upside down, to allow the PAINT to run out, thus giving the inside a chance to dry. PAINT had collected in the bottom of the plastic cup and my girls had been fascinated by this paint-dripping procession ever since. Every hour or two, they would run by the counter to peek at the extraordinary sight of this rare, but ever-so-unusual display of gravity. I need you to take extra notes now and let me know if you did listen carefully when I said the word paint... (Now back to our previously scheduled program.)

So, as Haven, with her small, innocent hands - reached up, and took this unusual (and of course, beloved) ornament from the counter, she accidentally squeezed a little too hard and sent the glass ball OVER the edge of its protective plastic cup. And this all happened so fast, almost instantaneously. I don't even remember Haven actually lifting the cup off the counter - it was as if it suddenly and magically just appeared in her hands. And as the glass ball cascaded over the edge of its plastic world, a small bomb suddenly exploded in my house. As the glass ball hit my kitchen floor, it shattered into a million shards of colorful glass and sent gooey blobs of wet paint everywhere.

I just stood there in shock. Paint dripped off the Christmas tree, trickled down my cabinets, ran down Haven's forehead, glistened from the cat's eyeballs and landed in creative drops and streaks across my kitchen floor. Glittering beautifully,..... on TOP of the wet paint blobs, were broken, sharp edges of glass - now stuck ON the paint as if they had been thoughtfully and purposely glued on with special care. I have to admit- as I stood frozen in one spot, not daring to trod into the delicate yet dangerous mine field of bizarre and curious shrapnel,... (remember, I had bare feet) - the thought, (although fleetingly) - suddenly screamed out in my already "fried" mind, "Hell HAS got to be better than this!"

I promise, I will let you know. I have personally called HELL, and after being put on hold for hours - (I am convinced that Satan's best customer service reps don't bother to take sneaky naps, but they actually pack up and go to college for four years and THEN maybe come back to answer your questions!) But I have called. I have seen all the brochures. And I will let you know what Hell is like. Although it cost me an arm, a leg, and one of my new breast implants,..... I have made reservations, and I am GOING! I will talk to you when I return - hopefully with a new outlook on life.

Breast Cancer for Christmas

This week marks the year anniversary of my being diagnosed with breast cancer. After my biopsy, I had to wait about 10 days for my results. In encouragement, my friends and family kept telling me I didn’t know anything until the doctor called – but I knew they were wrong. I can’t explain how sometimes we just seem to know things, but I knew.

The day before my birthday, (Dec. 14th) I was trying to stop thinking about when I would get the call,….. When I did finally get the call. As I stared at the phone ringing for the second time, I just stood there. With my heart hammering double time, I finally picked up the receiver. I didn’t want to hear it - and until I actually heard my doctor’s voice, saying those words to me - there was still a shred of hope. But none of that really mattered,… because I already knew. As my doctor went on about the biopsy, nothing clicked and fully registered until I heard him say, “And yes, I’m sorry to tell you - that you do have Breast Cancer.” As my sweaty hand gripped the phone, my shaky breathing suddenly switched to gasps.

I don’t remember crying hysterically,…. It was just that after that moment tears were always in my eyes. If I wasn’t actually crying, the promise of tears were always hovering or hanging from my eyelashes. I noticed everything I hadn’t noticed before. Devouring my children with my eyes, I suddenly noticed their habits more. I saw how tall they were,…and just how beautiful they were. At night, I’d sneak into their rooms, climb slowly under their blankets and snuggle up close to them. I would lie for hours just holding them and smelling them. As the pillow beneath my head slowly became wetter and wetter with my tears, I would stare out their doorways and watch how the reflections of colored lights from the Christmas tree danced off the walls.

My mind was racing. How many more Christmases would I have with my kids,…. with my husband? Would they know how much I loved them if I died? Who would fix everything up just the way they liked? Could I really give up the sweetness of my children’s kisses and accept that I had cancer? How big was my cancer? Where exactly was it? How fast was it growing? Why didn’t I have any symptoms? Was it possible that a nurse accidentally mixed up some files and I was really okay? During the 10 days prior to Christmas, my brain was a mess. Even though I had immediately made appointments to see specialists, it was the holidays. I was forced to wait until after the New Year to see anyone.

Christmas morning, my eight year old daughter London, wanted me to open her present first. At her school they have a special store planned by the PTA. The kids bring money and pick out whatever they want as gifts for their family. To a child – this is paradise, topped off with a pink pony. Not being able to wait any longer, London eagerly placed her gift in my hands. I peeled the tape away from the bulky, uneven blob of wrapping paper. (I think she used a whole roll of tape and wrapping paper to wrap it.) Inside, I discovered a small, red embroidered box. London had taped a small note on the outside that read, “I love you mom.” - TO: Mom / From: London. I looked up at London’s face. It was glowing with love and anticipation. When I opened the box, I found a small, glass angel with a golden halo. The angel’s small, glass hands were holding a red heart.

“It’s an Angel Worry Box!” London explained with pride, opening the red box a little wider to show me a small parchment glued on the inside. “This angel will take away all your worries, Mom!” I smiled a shaky smile. So bad I wanted this simple, glass angel to take away all my worries - but I knew better. I still had cancer, and I was terrified. And as I stared at this precious gift, I couldn’t talk. I couldn’t see through the wall of tears pouring from my eyes. As my emotions rose up from inside me and ran down my face, I couldn’t do anything but make small choking sounds. I pulled London into my arms. She hugged me back just as fiercely. As the tears slid down my face, I laid my head on her shoulder and sobbed. Reaching up, London gently stroked my hair.

I took that glass angel with me when I had my double mastectomy on Feb. 13. And although I lost my breasts, I received the best presents of all. I received love, comfort, support, a family who will always be there for me (no matter what,) my beautiful angel worry box and Breath. And no matter what anyone says - love and especially breath are the greatest gifts of all!

UPDATE: My Stage 1 Invasive Cancer was caught very early. So early in fact, that doctor’s are in awe of how lucky I am/was. All of the cancer was removed during my mastectomy and nothing reached my lymph nodes. I needed no Chemo and no radiation. My doctor’s tell me I definitely had an angel watching over me. I smile because I know this is true. I did have an angel watching over me,…. a small, glass angel with a golden halo and a red heart. As a matter of fact,… she watches over me still.

“The Angel in this box

Is the guardian of your heart.

Give her your worries

And your fears,

So hope and peace can start.

Keep this box nearby you,

And know how much she cares,

For when you need love and joy,

Your Angel will be there.”

Bedtime Stories of Vicious, Wild Animals, Possible Fainting Spells and Chances of Periods

This morning, during my doctor's appointment - I was answering the nurse's questions about how I was feeling when Haven pulled my shoulder close and brought her lips to my ear. As my conversation with the nurse was put on hold, the nurse waited politely.

"Is this the kind of Doctor's Office that lets you have a sticker when you're done?" My four year old whispered innocently - yet cleverly. I knew exactly where she was going with this. The poor nurse was being ambushed. As Haven went on with her question, the nurse listened curiously.

I jumped in so we could quickly get to the point. "Do you mean,... after my visit is over - are certain little girls allowed to have a sticker," I asked. "Even if "the little girl" was not the patient?" Haven's head bobbed up and down, and a small, "Yeah! Yeah!" squeaked out. I knew that was what Haven had wanted. She even seemed to drool a little,... in anticipation.

"Oh, I bet we can find a sticker for you," the nurse said, cooing at Haven. "You have been very well behaved," she added, winking. Raising my eyebrows, I looked at Haven. The poor nurse never saw it coming. She was cunningly caught in the web of my four year old - as "the student." Haven was clearly "the master."

"What kind of stickers do you like?" The nurse asked, in a pleasant sing-song voice. "Do you like stickers with cars on them? Or maybe you like ones with princesses?" She smiled. "How about Vegie-Tales? Or I think we have some Barbie stickers?"

Haven saw her opening and dove in. "I like stickers with bunnies, squirrels, lambs, dogs, cats, horses,...." She took a deep breath. "Actually, I like any kind of animal," she admitted.

Standing up, the nurse moved as if to leave the room to possibly check for a "better sticker variety." She managed only two steps before Haven continued her explanation.

"But I don't like the scary, mean, wild - kind of animals. Not the bad, angry ones with sharp teeth, mean eyes and huge claws. Not the kind of animals that would attack you, cut you open, kill you and then eat you," she finished innocently.

The nurse tried to keep her laughter in check, but couldn't. And as she openly chuckled, she glanced in my direction - covertly and suspiciously. Her glances told me everything she was thinking. I could hear her mind turning this information over and over again -

"What kind of bedtime stories go on at their house?" Her eyes were loudly saying. "That poor little girl,.... what evil things must her mother say to her?"

Instantly, the scene changed The scene the nurse must have imagined suddenly flashed before me. Me sitting on Haven's bed, with the lights turned down low - way too low,... while dark, moving shadows lurked just inside her closet,..... With an evil smile, I'd begin a bedtime story.

"Once upon a time, Haven,.... There were vicious, wild animals hiding in the forest - outside in our backyard. These wild animals were very hungry and all day long, they would wait for innocent, unsuspecting children to walk by. And when the poor children finally did walk by,.... the evil, horrible animals would jump out from behind the trees, pounce upon the children, rip them open with their razor sharp claws, and then eat them up - piece by piece." At this point I would pause, smile again and lovingly tousle Haven's hair.

"And which teeth did they have, Mama?" Haven would whisper in excitement, pointing to the homemade necklace I proudly wore around my neck. Reaching out her tiny hand, Haven's eyes would be wide in trepidation as she touched each sharp tooth. And there were many teeth. Dangling sinisterly from the dark leather strand around my neck, there were at least 20 "sharp and very scary wild beast teeth."

"Which kind of teeth did the vicious, wild animals have?" Haven would ask again, her eyes bright in the exhilaration of the moment. "Was it that kind?" She'd ask, tracing a stubby finger against one of the longer, discolored fangs. Feeling the sharp edge, she'd quickly pull her small hand back, shocked that she actually touched it.

"No sweetie," I'd tell her, shaking my head. I'd hold her hesitant hand and guide her small fingers to the longer, thicker fang hanging on my necklace. Slowly, I'd sweep her hand along every inch of the the sharp tooth so she wouldn't be afraid. Under my supervision, Haven could feel every angle,... every edge,... every curve,... the very sharpest point of the fang,.... she could even feel the rough texture of the enamel. In awe, she would smile up at me - and I'd smile back a comforting, motherly smile.

"See Haven,... THIS was the tooth from my story," I'd inform her. Then I'd bring the fang closer and closer - and finally, (and very softly...) I'd ever-so gently, use the fang to poke against the soft, fair flesh of Haven's neck. "See how sharp this tooth is, sweetie?" I'd ask, watching her face.

Closing her eyes, Haven would do a little shiver thing, and then a wicked smile would slowly spread up her young face. "Oooooh,... scary," she'd giggle, suddenly understanding the fierce danger involved and yet completely trusting me in the moment. She'd hug me tight - still giggling,.... and then I would giggle too.

Yes. I could see everything the nurse was thinking, just from the looks she was giving me. Haven's comments about vicious, wild animals that rip you open, tear you apart and eat you up- had her seriously wondering about "story time" at our house each night.

An hour later, as I pushed my shopping cart around Target, Haven began going limp over the handles to the cart. With her head hung low, her hair hanging down over her head, the blood began pooling in her head until she had to stop and come up for a break. A glazed look had come into her eyes and small whimpering whines were escaping from the semi-paralyzed cracks in her mouth. She was clearly dying.

"Mama. I'm SO starving......" She kept repeating over and over - and then she'd put a hand to her head and seem to swoon. "I need food,....." she started again. I continued pushing the shopping cart towards the Bakery. A free cookie to each child at Target - completely saves the shopping experience. But after pushing my cart around and around a few times, we finally came to the conclusion that this Target (we were not at my normal one...) did not have a Bakery. A Target with NO Bakery? This sent Haven over the edge. She was surely going to die right here and now in my shopping cart. As we passed each mother (lucky to be blessed without their children...) Haven felt the need to moan and share her misery and near death experience to anyone within hearing distance.

"Mama, what is it called when you can't eat?" She looked up at me with half starved eyes.

"I don't know sweetie, I can't eat when I'm feeling bloated," I offered.

Haven shook her head. "No,..... you know like when your mom never lets you eat anything and your,.... your,...." She shook her head. She couldn't think of the word, but words like dehydrated? Hypoglycemia? Abused? Neglected? were running through my head. Where was all this going anyway? An observer who must have caught an ear full - turned to stare at me a moment. She took her time looking us up and down. I could tell she was seriously wondering if it was true. Was I starving my poor child? At this point, Haven hung like a limp spaghetti noodle over the handlebars of the shopping cart and her tongue was stuck dramatically out of her mouth like a dead person in a cartoon.

"You know Mama," Haven once again tried to think of the word. "Like when you are going to fall down with hunger,...." Another woman was eyeing me cautiously as she walked by. I knew she was thinking of calling social services - I'm sure of it. "FAINT!" Haven suddenly yelled, miraculously sitting up. "That's it! I'm going to faint!" She announced to the store.

"You're not going to faint Haven. It's only just 12:30. Let's go pay for this stuff and then get some pizza over there." Knowing food was within sight, Haven began cheering, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

Haven helped unload the cart by leaning into it from her upper seat position because this made things faster and the cashier could get all the food bleeped quicker. She passed me the milk just fine. She passed me the kleenex just fine. She past everything to me just fine,... but stopped short when she picked up my small box of Super Maximum OB Tampons. As I was preoccupied getting my credit card out of my wallet,.... I was unsuspecting and unaware of what was about to happen.

"My Mama uses these for when she gets her period," Haven suddenly opened her mouth and offered this little bit of information to the cashier - who was trying to hide her smirk. "She has her period right now, don't you Mama?" Glancing down at Haven, I made an ambiguous "Hmmmm" sound. Pretending to read the box as if it was the most interesting thing in the world, Haven simply stated, "I don't have my period." Looking up again, Haven smiled at the cashier and now all the other woman who had gathered behind us with their shopping carts. "I'm just a little girl," she stated matter of factly. Then slowly she raised her finger and pointed at the cashier. "But YOU get your period," she accused sharply. Glancing up quickly, the cashier looked as if someone had just suddenly poked her in the butt with a sharp pin. "And YOU get your period," Haven informed the woman behind us who was no longer smiling, but had suddenly begun reorganizing her wallet. "And YOU and YOU and YOU and YOU and the lady at the end - in the green sweater- You ALL get your periods too!" Haven was singing loudly now- making up a controversial song that no one seemed to like.

The young cashier next to us was ducking her head and had her back to Haven. Shyly and quickly, she was trying to bleep her line of groceries along- all the while hoping Haven wouldn't notice her. But Haven was mercilessly moving her head around like a tank. Determined not to miss anyone, she spotted the poor girl and pounced. "OH! And YOU get your period too!" Haven yelled, pointing directly at the young cashier who was now trying to disappear behind her long hair.

I was wearing a white sweater, but I suddenly felt like Sissy Spacek in the movie, "Carrie." You know the scene - when she gets set up at the end and a bucket of blood is suddenly dropped over her head at the Prom. As we unfortunate "Scarlet Women" one by one were called out, we merely stood frozen. Although we tried to appear normal we were breaking inside. I know I felt this way! The poor Target cashiers really must have felt like "Carrie," from the movie. In their bright, red Target shirts they all ducked their heads and desperately bleeped groceries in warp speed. When Haven and I finally pushed our shopping cart away, there were no smiles, no waves goodbye,... in fact, our cashier didn't even tell us to have a nice day.

On the way home, Haven's brain was already on the move again - because after only five minutes of silence she launched into a new topic. "Mama? If Lice lay eggs,.... and the eggs hatch,.... and the baby lice grow into mama and dada lices,.... then will those lice lay eggs too?

"Yup," I answered.

"So,... do lice have periods?" she called out innocently.

Smiling, I rolled my eyes. Kids never cease to amaze me. They hear everything and somehow piece it all together. If you just sit and watch a child,..... you can almost hear their minds ticking away as they slowly figure it all out.

"No, sweetie. Lice don't have periods,.... they just lay eggs. And they lay a LOT of eggs!"

"Hmmmmmm," Haven mumbled. Already her mind was rolling out of the station as it set off to another time and place.

The reason for her lice questions? Now that's a story in itself! A horrible, never-ending story that is STILL not over! A story and a dilemma that is going to end up giving me a nervous breakdown! We shall see where the lice story ends,..... perhaps someday I will enlighten you.

To all my good friends: keep a look out for an envelope containing 2 louses in the mail. Imagine teaching your family all about "How Lice Are Born And Raised?" Just like a loving ant farm, your children will learn so much. It could also make a great Christmas gift. Keep checking your mail! "Learning About Lice" is SOON coming to a mailbox near YOU! Compliments of ME!