Finding the Cheat.--Her story

Being the parent of millennials I watched my kids grow up "gaming". We didn't have the full assortment of game systems due to the fact that I wasn't convinced that such past times were conducive to higher thinking but my son did own a game system. So as a parent I picked up some of the "lingo" of how these games worked. One of the things about these games that I learned was the idea of finding "cheats" to help you win the game. It wasn't viewed as a bad thing at all to find a "cheat". It wasn't cheating as much as it was finding a better and quicker way to win. The other thing I learned about these games from watching my son is that one had to know the identity and weakness of the opponent or "monster" that was being fought. The "cheat" helped with that. Cecil and I just got back from the oncological surgeons. We were expecting to be told that it was time to have surgery. In most cases, for standard cancer treatment it would be. But, my surgeon explained to us why she believes it is not. You see we do not know who the monster is. I had a couple of biopsies in the beginning but they were not done well and they were inconclusive. We have been taking the chemo and it has been effective but we are at a point that the Drs. believe that this particular brand of chemo has run it's course of effectiveness. Without the knowledge of the exact genetic make-up of this cancer any follow-up treatment once surgery is performed would still be a shot in the dark. So what are my options? I need a cheat. Fortunately, I am going to get one. Next Wednesday I go back to the clinic to have an outpatient procedure done which will gather tissue to be tested with Genome Testing i.e. Genetic testing.Genetic testing uses laboratory methods to look at your genes, which are the DNA instructions you inherit from your mother and your father. Genetic tests may be used to identify increased risks of health problems, to choose treatments, or to assess responses to treatments. With a look into the genetic mutations of the cancer, my doctors will have a better understanding of the monster as well as a more informed approach to the weapons available to kill this monster. Cecil told me that we needed a closer. In baseball, a pitcher may be pulled from the game around the 8th inning when the team is winning and a new pitcher put in. The new guy is a “closer”. He specializes in a really tricky or very fast pitch that will get the team “3 up and 3 down” and bring the game to a close in the favor of the team. I need a closer. By submitting to the genome testing I am looking to identify the monster and then find just the right closer (treatment) for the job. So another paradigm shift but I am so glad for a medical team that believes in looking for cheats. Yay Team….let’s cheat death!!! This is a journey. As long as I am in this journey I am winning the battle. God won the war.

Hurray for Hollywood, or how I am kicking pain med addiction.

I got some astounding news from my oncologist recently. Cancer is leaving the building. She even gave me the choice of taking a break from the chemo. I decided to damn the torpedoes and go full speed ahead with additional chemo while we have cancer on the run. Additionally, another big decision I made for a very wise reason..( I keep telling myself) was to start weaning myself off the pain-killers that I have been eating like candy. This decision also was concreted by the fact that I had run out of my meds and was forced to go over 12 hours cold turkey and Whoa BABY….that…aint…happening…again!!! So, for the last week I have been taking stuff to make me sleep….therefore skipping one dose while I sleep…CHECK…that’s an easy win. Additionally, I have been cutting the little bitty fun pills in half doses in order to start taking less, again another passive way to cut down. But now comes the hard part. I have to skip a dose during the day, ON PURPOSE!! Yeah…that one is scary. I primed the pump….substitution works….first a healthy dose of about 20 almonds to 1 chocolate because almonds are a good source of magnesium and chocolate is a great substitute for addiction but not so good for anything else. Thus the ratio. Okay…that was a pretty good substitute but it wasn’t enough to take the edge off completely but HELLOOOOO I found the perfect combo for drug addiction therapy AND IT’s LEGAL!!! It’s called Hollywood. WHO KNEW??? Okay…one has to first be a movie lover….which I am ….I love movies as much as I love ellipsis in sentences which my editor husband hates, especially the way I use them indiscriminately and completely incorrectly like a mad woman. He, on the other hand, only watched maybe one movie his entire life from start to finish and it was the movie Walking Tall…the original. That. is. just. sad. So I, YES ,I ALONE, have made it my fifteen year mission in life to introduce him to the magic that is called movies. He is a tough sale. But I am sure he will be finally convinced when he reads these next lines. Hollywood can cure addiction. Yes you read that correctly. It’s kinda ironic really. Hollywood is probably one of the biggest consumers of illicit drugs and while all these monied addicts are going to rehab…and that is great…I have movies. I started movies and ignored the clock. Movie one….some sweats. Movie Two…a little shaky and then I looked at the clock. Did trumpets blow??? Did angels sing?? Nope. But I did make it to the allotted time therefore skipping a dose. I have cancer. But less of it. I have an addiction to pain meds…but I am conquering it. One movie at a time. Thank you Hollywood.

Why I sing--His

Why I sing. Today, I sat two feet from heaven, singing in the sun. The heaven today, as in other days when I sing, is the inspiration that is my wife. While undergoing treatment for cancer, my wife is in as strong a voice as ever and sharing her passion with the world. I'm privileged to sing and share life with her. In the shade we sat for two hours and played and sang to folks who were walking around. Who does that while battling cancer? Those who continue to live. Music is salve for our souls as well as others. Here are a few instances of my wife's impact through music: With Linda singing by my side at a private concert, I've watched a Romanian general brought to tears by our rendition of "Let It Be." At an assisted living facility, I've watched a non-speaking patient start to sing. Today, a little boy stopped in mid gait and turned around and started dancing to our music. Linda handed him a tambourine. Then he insisted on hanging around to do another song and requested the washboard. I once sang with a Grand Ole Opry star who told me that 90 percent of the work of a musician is interacting with people. It's a people job and I watch in amazement as my wife interacts with folks at our gigs. And then I get to sing with Linda.

A change in perspective--His

They say perception is what matters. Perception, however, relies on what other people think.

Perspective comes from within. For the past four months, I’ve begun to live a life of perspective.

The impetus came with the diagnosis of my wife’s Stage 4-B uterine cancer. In the battle with cancer, there are only four numbers—one through four—and the higher the number, the worst the news. To many on the outside, the perception is beyond hopeless. “Just pack it in and move on,” it’ll never get any better.

It was that way with me for two or three weeks into this journey. Then, something happened. Through  prayer, reading and research, I came across something that gave me the right perspective and turned my mind and heart inward instead of outward. Perception erodes under the torrent of perspective.

The starting point came for me when my wife was sitting in a chair and we were crying while we remembered all the wonderful times we’ve had in our 15 years together. “Go get the guitars,” she said. “I want to see if I can sing.” I did, and we made love through music for 45 minutes. My perspective of music changed that day from, “look at me singing” turned into “I’m singing for you.”

Perspective also reveals herself in odd places. I sat outside a bar in a Memphis neighborhood on a hot April day, eating French fries and drinking beer with a friend when she came whistling on the breeze. “You know,” my friend said, “most people don’t realize the power of prayer. When they say, ‘I’ll pray for you,’ it’s more of a platitude than a reality.” My perspective on prayer has become very practical to the point when my wife says she’s hurting, I will pray for her right then and there—and place my hands on her head while I’m doing so.

I suppose the biggest revelation that perspective has given me is the ability to ask for the unseen. In studying the various Bible scriptures on Jesus’ healing miracles, I ran across another perspective: Never did Jesus just go up and heal someone. The miracles were first questions, then answers. “Can you and will you heal me?”  And it is more than okay to admit your wavering belief while sincerely wanting more belief.  Just as it was in scriptures I might also say, “Lord I believe, please help my unbelief.” Mark 9:24

 

 

Today is the first day of the rest of your... --Hers

I am now in month four of CD, (Cancer Diagnosis).   I have had four infusions of chemo, many bottles of  a controlled substance that I am told has a street value of $50 a pill,  I have lost hair, EVERYWHERE...and I am 40 pounds lighter.  The latter is kinda a bonus.   I also know what chemo brain is, and despite the jokes, it is a bummer.  I really don't know why the whole walking around in a fog is attractive to drug users.  I find it frustrating and scary.  Luckily, it doesn't last but a few days.

In the last three months, I have seen my cancer marker numbers reduce down.  (CA-125 Numbers) This is good news!  And time for another mind shift.

Mind Shift one  (1) came when I was diagnosed.   "What do you mean I might die???!!!  Aren't I immortal??!!  Hey this is the South....it is rude to talk about death...especially mine."  

No, I am not immortal and, yes, this is cancer...not the G-Rated cancer, (the type that exists in polite conversation and in fantasy) but the real stuff that kills, and specifically, is trying to kill me!

Now that I am dealing with that on a daily basis...i.e....hair loss, nausea, bone pain, and yes, chemo, there is another shift I must make.

Mind Shift two (2) I may not die--yet.   As crazy as this may seem, this may be an even harder shift.   I was and still am not resigned to the idea of dying, but now that it seems that my odds are getting better, I catch myself making future plans.   And then I chide myself mentally for doing it, but then I chide myself for chiding myself.   I need a new word.    

It is a strange new dynamic.  I am feeling better overall and perhaps am winning this battle but I have not been given a clean bill yet and so, perhaps, it is too soon to be hopeful.  Can I ever be completely hopeful?  

Which leads me to a decision I have to make.  Do I pause my life until I have a better idea of it being longer?  Or,  do I plow ahead without a thought to expiration dates and diagnosis and such. 

There is a third option that I think I will choose.  I have a keener sense of the reality that I may not live to my full 80 odd years.   But then again I might.   One difference that this makes between me and the average person is that I can give a name to my killer and others cannot.   Cancer may kill me eventually.  But I also might step in front of a car or be struck by lightning.    Just like anyone else.

I think however, since I can name my likely killer then each new day comes with more emphasis of not letting a moment slip by without some significance or purpose being squeezed from it all.  I also am taking more time in my relationships.  If a friend needs to talk, I drop things more easily so that we can talk.  Moments should not be missed, and they might be.  

I guess that is why I hate the meds and the brain fuzz of chemo brain.  I don't want anything dulling my senses while I can enjoy my days.    

My body will continue to change and I may actually beat this thing, but my perspective will never be the same again.  I am hoping I will love deeper, speak softer, forgive quicker, laugh, dance and sing like nobody is watching.     

Cha..cha..Cha..Changes ...Turn and face the strange.--Hers

     Yesterday I was determined to put on "my face" as we good ol southern gals call putting on our make-up.  I have just finished my 10 days of YUCK commonly known as nadir following my 4th treatment of Chemo.  I reached my mascara and started to try to apply it and there was nothing happening.  There are no eyelashes left to hold the mascara.   I haven't had thick dark eyelashes since I was younger but I always had some...but no more.  They too have become a victim of my chemo infusions.  At first I was a bit shocked but overall lack of lash is a small concern.   I am thankful that so far I seem to be responding well to chemo.  The doctors were not sure I would.

So I am trying to think of ways to use my make-up so that I don't end up looking like ziggy stardust with no lashes or eyebrows.

I have seen where there are stencils that you can use to draw on your eyelashes.  That might work becuase the last thing I want are scary  Joan Crawford/Bette Davis brows as seen in the old classic  "What ever happened to Baby Jane?".  And my hands are not always the most steady so this could really happen.

I have used fake lashes in the past and they are a bit tricky.  Do they make fake lashes that look more normal then lashes that zigzag or end in sparkly stones?

In the end in may be time for me to stop trying to maintain normal and just embrace the changes, no matter how strange.  The point is....I am alive to embrace ANYTHING....and so I am still in the game.   And I have been told they will grow back.  So maybe I could have a little fun with the whole Ziggy thing.

Ain't nuttin no good?--Hers

In the first couple of weeks after finding out about the cancer.  I went on an information feeding frenzy about food.  Yep,  it seems that many folks feel that you truly are what you eat.  Furthermore, it seems that what the average American eats is the perfect diet to grow cancer!  Fact:  Our diet is killing us by the droves!

I read that sugar feeds cancer.  Sugar is gone from diet...CHECK.  Red meat makes your body more acidic and cancer grows better in an acidic environment.  Red meat gone...CHECK.

As a matter of fact, many believe that a balanced ph or even better slightly alkaline is the best way to fight cancer.  So I looked up food to eat and foods to avoid.  Avocado in,  Cheese out!

Drink apple cider vinegar,  Don't drink milk.  Drink water with lemons in it...DON'T DRINK LEMONADE!  

Do not eat any flour products.    Eat whole plant based food.

Juice ...Juice....juice!!!

So I did it all.  And then it hit me.  I got sick as a dawg!   NO ONE TOLD ME ABOUT DETOX!!!

Yep....I detoxed in a big ugly ...very ugly way.  

So I slowed down on the new food introductions and found a happy medium.  And it IS making me feel better.

I have switched to a MOSTLY plant-based diet.  I permit about 10% of white meat but red meat is still off the list.

We go to the farmers market and get fresh organic veggies and that is what I eat most of the time.  I have found that I love greens and lima beans or peas of some sort.  Pinto Beans are da bomb.

Salads are great and I turn to fruit if I need a sweet after a meal.

Here are some of my fav cheats.  Because you have to have a cheat...

Sunday I get chicken.   I am Baptist....of course I get chicken on Sunday!  One piece, preferably a leg.

And I have found these great biscuits (cookies) called digestibles. Only 5 grams of sugar per large cookie so I allow myself a cookie every now and then.

I drink water.  Period.   Oh and I also drink water with baking soda added.  1 teaspoon per 8 oz.

Again in a effort to swing to the alkaline side of things.

I have noticed that I feel better and my body is giving me positive signs that this new change of diet is the right choice.

But I have to tell you...this afternoon I dreamed of a big plate of food that looked soooo good and I wanted it soooo bad but then I was called away from the table and when I came back my food was taken away by the waiter.   Do you think my body was telling my mind....look...you don't need that stuff , NOT EVEN IN YOUR DREAMS!!!

An online romance for the storybooks--His

On stage, I usually tell people that my wife and I met online. She usually responds with a grin, “You didn’t have to tell them that.”

But that’s how we met 17 years ago, only three years removed from the Internet taking over the world of communication. We were on the vanguard of Internet dating.  We were both recently divorced, with kids, and, from later conversations, discovered we really had no intention of remarrying—anytime soon, at least.  But with encouragement from friends who had already signed up, we both individually closed our eyes and typed up the required testimony for a christian online dating service.

Online dating is heady stuff. You get to the point where you check the updates every few minutes. One time my computer went down and I traveled to the local Internet provider just to get them to print out messages for me.  That’s the kind of electrically-charged environment I met The Linda in. In this environment, you become brutally honest with yourself and equally as skeptical of what you read about others when they are talking about themselves.

Computer analysis was supposed to “pick” a compatible person for you to contact. In our case, the computer said we have about a 20-something percent chance of having anything in common. This algorithm was obviously off.

Our first correspondence, she tells me, was filled with romantic allusions that would start a fire on wet wood. I’m a writer and for the first time, I was expressing myself with my heart as well as my mind, although I had little idea the fires would burn this brightly for this long.  After a month or so, we decided to meet. She wrote, “Would you like to call?” Legend has it I typed, “YESSSS!!!!”

Our first “conversation” lasted something like eight hours, well into the wee morning hours.

A week later, we decided to meet halfway between our homes. The reason being, her mother told her I might be an ax murderer, since we had just met over the Internet. (With my family connections to bootlegging and the mob—just kidding—that was probably a wise move.)

Our first date was on the banks of the Tennessee River in North Alabama. Linda brought her guitar and I brought my little girl and we played and sang all night long and we’ve been singing all night long ever since.

After the first meeting, I remember asking if I could kiss her.

Having passed the initial test, I traveled the 70 miles from Sand Mountain, Ala., to Decatur, Ala., in a coat and tie to fix Mexican with her. As we were cooking in the kitchen, a long line of her family began to arrive, and just “happened to be in the neighborhood.” We all ate together and shared a common bond from the beginning. Later, we went over to her parent’s house, where I sang some Hank Williams’ tunes, most notably “Lovesick Blues.”  A few years later, when we were married, Linda told me that her father pulled her inside the house as I walked out the door to the car and told her, “Now, baby girl, you hold on to this one!”  I always get a thrill when I hear Linda tell this story on stage and she giggles, “And I did!” I like to think Hank Williams played a role in our getting together. I’m certain God did.

Ours is a romance, the kind written in storybooks.

When we were courting, “The Linda” would fix a picnic basket of fried chicken, bring along a tome of Shakespeare and we’d have a date with the four kids.

Then, there was the time when I was traveling out of state and returned to find that she had driven 70 miles to clean my house. To this day, the smell of the Lysol concentrate she used to clean the house and the note that read, “Can I pamper you?” fills my head.  I’m really out of my league, I realize, but the answer was and is, “Yes!”

We married, blended a family and embarked on an adventure that I describe as a marriage that’s been a “15-year honeymoon” and counting.

There are times we’ll go in separate rooms and engage in an online chat. The same excitement lingers over the Internet as it did back in the late 1990s and literally jumps out of the ethernet at the sight of each other.  

Now with her cancer I am being given the opportunity to ask  “Can I pamper you?”  She grins and she says, Yes!

A mile in my shoes--Hers

It had turned into a rough day of treatment.   I had a reaction to some contrast that was shot into my porta-cath.  It made me sick and very hot.   I was sitting at the hospital cafeteria staring at soup in front of me and trying not to shake too visibly as I fought nausea and pain.   A lady materialized in front of me.  She was a woman with gray hair and nicely manicured nails.  She said that she noticed my scarf and then she told me that she was a five year cancer survivor.  She told me that she lost her hair, her eyelashes, eye brows and her fingernails.  Then she assured me that they all grow back.  Suddenly I found myself fighting tears.  Here we both were sitting in a cafeteria of wigged and scarfed heads and she chose me to encourage and be kind to.  I was so touched.

About 30 minutes later, Cecil and I were waiting for our pastoral care appointment and it was going to be delayed for a bit.  This was good because I had taken pain and nausea meds and they had not kicked in yet.   A lady turned towards us and asked,  do you want to talk while you wait?   I have to be honest with you, I was still feeling sick so I really didn't want to talk but something about her caught my attention.   She turned fully towards Cecil and I and we saw that she was blind.  She took her cane and made her way to a chair near us.  She was a volunteer at the Clinic.   She is there to chat with folks and even though her eyes were gone, she saw my need to talk more than I did.   She explained to us that she had cancer about 10 years before.  It was brain cancer located behind her left eye.  She had not been treated at the Clinic because it was not there at the time.  The radiation she recieved blasted away the turmor in her brain but also fried her optical rods and left her blind.  Without hesitation, she declared, "I lost my sight but I kept my life!"   She also told me that her husband had lost 3 of his five siblings to cancer and now he has a wife who is blind from cancer treatment.  She gave no indication that he was bitter.    She asked me about my cancer and I told her what little I know about it.  She was a great listener.   She said she had volunteered at the clinic for almost year and she loves it.  She wished me well and told me I was going to be fine.

Again, I was humbled by a stranger's kindness.   This place is full of those types of stories.   Cancer may bring us all together but it is the spirit of grace and kindness that connects the hearts.   Could it be that cancer will make me a more whole person?  I hope so.  

  

A Hurricane of Love--His

In this battle with cancer, my wife has had infusions of chemotherapy. Yesterday, we got an infusion of love. It was at once targeted and broadcasted, from the music, gifts, and the interaction my wife and I expeienced as musicians and friends gathered to support us in this battle of and with cancer.
Some of the best musicians in Memphis gave of their time and talents in this effort. It's a wonderful feeling to be friends with so many musicians in a town that gave birth to many forms of American music. I can only describe the feelings in that small room on South Main in Memphis with the words of a character from the movie "Elizabethtown." "Cuz, you're going to be surrounded by a hurricane of love." And we were.

So many things I consider and treasure in my heart today. Being handed a tambourine and washboard by the mayor of South Main, Mark Parsell, to join in with Rice Drewry as he and his band Three Degrees played "Wagon Wheel." Cottonwood blossoms dancing in the street like soap bubbles just outside the venue. Heartfelt tributes to my wife and I, from a dear friend, Randal Morton, whose band played two other gigs that afternoon in addition to coming back to our event to finish out a set with Delta Joe Sanders. Oh man, if I start naming everything I'm going to leave something out. It was all special and extraordinary.

Just as Linda will receive multiple infusions of chemo and other integrated treatments, we look forward to another infusion of love on June 4, when again, Memphis musicians, fans, friends and family will come together at Visible Music College in downtown Memphis. If you missed the first one, we'd love to see you at this second one. It promises to be another magical night.

Thank you!!!

Zuzu's Petals-Hers

Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity: it must be produced and discharged and used up in order to exist at all. ~William Faulkner

The good part of cancer is the best part of life; it is being grateful.    Yesterday I recieved the most wonderful gift and it was a gift that went on for 6 hours!    I was showered with words of encouragement, song and funds.  A large contingency of Memphis music songwriters got together and did a benefit for Cecil and I to help with our battle with cancer.  

Memphis musicians are a community, a tribe, and a family.  We share experiences like stolen instruments, parking tickets, little or no tips and the loud drunk who thinks your music sucks or maybe even worse, who thinks your music is SO GOOD that he wants to get on stage and help you with it!!   

We also share our illnesses.  Even more so because so many of us are living on the edge financially.   It breaks my heart to consider how many of our community have suffered illness with no insurance or little funds in the bank.   

And it is in times of illness that this family of musicians really band together.  

They say that " #feeling blessed "  is the most overused hashtag on the net right now.  So I am not going there.  But let me share a verse that describes my feelings right now.  

Luke 6:38--Give, and it will be given to you; a good measure-pressed down, shaken together, and running over-will be poured into your lap.

In other words..."my cup runneth over."

There are too many to thank properly but I do want to thank folks like Frank McClellan,  Mark Parsell, Cyndi Bothwell, Bart Mathews, Danny Day,  and good grief sooo many of the beautiful musicians that GAVE of their talent and time to bring us their precious gift of music.  Cecil and I came home last night in a sort of daze.   

One thing that cancer has done for me is slow my frantic behind down.  I have to stop.  I don't have the energy to keep up that pace.   And when you slow down, you begin to take the time to think about your life a bit.   If I ever wondered about my life being one of connection, then yesterday I got a bit of closure on that one.

As each and every one of the folks that performed got on the stage they began to tell stories of how they met Cecil and I, or how we touched their lives.  I was blown away.

Yesterday I was Jimmy Stewart, and I reached into my pocket to find Zuzu's petals still there, and my friends around me,  and I was rich.

So thank you my songwriting family.   Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you.

We will be leaving on Tuesday to go to the Cancer Treatment Center of America.  I will recieve treatments to hopefully heal the cancer, but the healing started with the love shown to me and the love still to come.  

Whatever be the depth of woe
Along the path that I must go,
I'll sing my song—
My song of joy for all the love
That's lavished on us from above,
And count no loss of treasure-trove
When things go wrong.
I'll sing the sunlight, and the bright
Soft smiling stars that gem the night;
For gifts of good
That God hath spread along my way,
The lilt of birds in tuneful play,
The harvests full and flowers gay,
The whole day long
I'll sing my song
Of gratitude!

~John Kendrick Bangs (1862-1922), "My Song" (October Twenty-sixth)
The Cheery Way:A Bit of Verse For Every Day, 1920

Show some LOVE for Linda and Cecil Yancy

Tsunami--HIS

It comes in waves.  There are days that we call "smooth sailing but when the days are full of bad news it comes in waves.  This one was a tsunami.  Changing the landscape of my life forever. 

 The first wave was the first doctor’s visit. Something was definitely wrong with my wife. She was in abdominal pain. As we sat in the waiting room, she closed her eyes, hoping to ride the wave of pain.

As she emerged from the doctors office, we walked slowly back to the car with some assurance that antibiotics and pain medication would push back the wave. Two days later, the pain was still there, so we returned to the doctor’s office.

The doctor wanted to send my wife to the hospital to check out what was wrong. As we sat in the emergency room, a nurse came in to tell us that the doctor wanted to do an MRI. The second wave started as the nurse told us what the doctor suspected. She asked if she could pray.

We were facing the possibility of cancer. That’s when the second wave began. If you can imagine watching as a wave started way out in the ocean, you’ll get a glimpse of what the impending news looked like four days out in the future for me.   You pray. Then you say it won’t happen. Then you cry at the possibility. Then, it comes on shore and the clouds settle in for a while.  The impact of this wave is massive. 

The Stage 4 diagnosis followed us home from the hospital. The first three weeks, the clouds hung over the sky like a dome.

I sat in the living room and we talked. Dear friends arrived shortly after. Visits from friends are the one thing that’s constant in our household. We put on a brave face, but speak in whispered tones. The first visits were cut short. Linda’s pain dominated the room and we regrettably had to cut the visit short.

The next nine hours were some of the most horrible and scary of my life. “I think I’m going to vomit,” Linda said as she made her way to the bathroom. She eventually went to bed and I to the living room, only to be called every 10 to 20 minutes or so—with a bucket.

I watched the wrenching pain and prayed. I got some pillows and covered up on the floor beside her because even the slightest movement near her sent her another wave of nausea and I spent the rest of the night handing her the bucket. At 3 in the morning, I knew it was over for the time being and she drifted off to sleep.

A rough night had ended and the waves, for now, subsided.

"D DAY" Diagnosis Day--Hers

I waited to go to the doctor for a number of what seemed like perfectly good reasons.  First, because I was the only person with a full-time job and I needed to wait until my writer husband got the second half of a agreed upon bit of freelancing. (they did not keep their agreement).   I figured that with this freelance money we could be okay without my income if I needed minor surgery.  I waited because my new insurance would not be active until March.  I waited because I was good at bearing down and weathering pain and I could do this again.

By Mid March the pain was keeping me up at nights and getting harder to bear through the work day so I went to an Ob/Gyn.

I was told I obviously had an infection.  So I was giving antibiotics.  They worked but the pain got worse.  So after a really horrific weekend I returned to the doctor.  After a couple more tests I was sent to the hospital for a cat scan.  Now I was beginning to worry.  The cat scan did not look good and I was sent to get an MRI.  It was almost 10 pm by now and I was in pain and exhausted.  A shaken nurse came to my side and her eyes were filled with tears.  She said,  "Sweetie it doesn't look good.  It looks like cancer."  Then she took my hand and squeezed it and said, "We are going to pray for you."

Cancer.  Well okay.  Then we will do a hysterectomy and it will be over right?   I was hospitalized that night.  Over the next 3 days there were biopsies of endometrial area and lungs.   On the forth day I was told that I was being released.  I still had not been given a full diagnosis.  So I asked the doctor on their rounds,  "What am I supposed to tell everyone?"  Her answer was blunt and to the point.  Tell them you have stage IV cancer of the uterus and it has moved to your lungs as well.

Didn't the earth crack?  I could have sworn that I felt a rip in my universe.   The pain had a name and it was a monster eating me alive.

Cecil had been with me for four solid days at the hospital and I had sent him home to rest.  So I was alone when I was told.  I called a friend to go and wake up Cecil because I could not reach him by phone and I didn't want Cecil to be alone when he heard the news.

When Cecil reached my room,  he ran to my bed and we sobbed together.

A black cloud settled on my heart as I listened to the odds that the oncology doctor gave me.  Without chemo you will die within 3 to 6 months.  With chemo you will have a 5% chance of survival.

I almost gave up then.

Then I remembered who I was.

I am a child of the living one true God.

I am hopeful in nature.

And I am blessed and surrounded with love.

So in a moment of clarity and determination I rejected the prediction of my demise and joined others who have said,  I have cancer but cancer does not have me.

I am not a label.  I am alive.  I will celebrate each day and make plans for the future.

Stage IV is God's stage.