Back in March, when I was in Alaska, I started blogging elsewhere. I was going thru a rough time - even though I didn't show it much - and I needed an outlet where I felt "free" to express what I was feeling. I always felt that in time I'd come back to this blog and "pick up where I left off." But I've decided that I am going to abandon this blog and continue to blog where I've been blogging since March. I feel like I can't be myself here anymore - thanks to one particular person - so I am packing up and moving on.
Adios ~
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Monday, June 7, 2010
So scared ...
My mom had a heart attack yesterday. Chant, prayers, thoughts, whatever - are very much needed right now. I am so scared.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Busy, busy, busy ...
Gram and Mom before we crossed the Mississippi River (from Iowa into Illinois)
Mom and Gram looking out over St. Louis at the top of Gateway Arch
Mom and Gram in St. LouisLife is keeping me busy. Not much time to be on here. I do post more to Facebook - but not much more.
Doing a lot of traveling. After Alaska I went to Disneyland for a few days with my mom and one of my nieces. And I just got back from the Midwest. My mom, gram and I went to Kansas to visit my uncle and aunt. Took my mom and gram up to Nauvoo, IL to see the Mormon temple there. Then stopped off in St. Louis and toured the Gateway Arch. We all had a great time. I am done traveling (I think) for a few months though.
I am feeding tube free. Still whispering. And thankful for each and every day I am alive.
That's all.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Here's your "stupid" sign ...
Last night I ran to the store. I was just about out the door when I heard my dad yell "grab some ambrosia."
I got the things I needed and then headed towards to cheese section in search of the ambrosia my dad asked for. I looked around - and looked around - and looked around. Finally I found a worker and asked him where the ambrosia was. "In the deli," he replied on my board. Duh!! I thought to myself. I should have figured that if the cheese section didn't have it in a package that it would be with the deli cheese. So, I headed over there and looked around - and looked around - and looked around. When the clerk asked if she could help me I asked if they had any ambrosia. She said they did at the other end and proceeded to walk that way. I followed. (she actually knew sign language so I didn't have to use my writing board)
There in front of my eyes was ambrosia. I know what ambrosia is. I've had it before. I've even made it before. So don't ask what I was thinking when I thought of cheese. :)
I got the things I needed and then headed towards to cheese section in search of the ambrosia my dad asked for. I looked around - and looked around - and looked around. Finally I found a worker and asked him where the ambrosia was. "In the deli," he replied on my board. Duh!! I thought to myself. I should have figured that if the cheese section didn't have it in a package that it would be with the deli cheese. So, I headed over there and looked around - and looked around - and looked around. When the clerk asked if she could help me I asked if they had any ambrosia. She said they did at the other end and proceeded to walk that way. I followed. (she actually knew sign language so I didn't have to use my writing board)
There in front of my eyes was ambrosia. I know what ambrosia is. I've had it before. I've even made it before. So don't ask what I was thinking when I thought of cheese. :)
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
What happened with "hope" ...
I survived the "Hope in Alaska" trip. It was all kind of eerie though. Driving down a dirt road that led to the row boat (ok, so it actually was a taxi ferry - but it was still SMALL) that would take us across icy waters to no mans land. Then once in no mans land we had to walk 3/4 of a mile. Maybe not too far for some but remember where this is ... Alaska ... and the snow in no mans land is greater than the snow in "my daddy's land" (Anchorage). Deep!! Very very DEEP!! And freezing cold.
We make it to the place and the moment the door opens I smell weed. And a lot of it. FYI ... here in Alaska it's legal to have 4 oz of marijuana in your possession. So, the place reeks, enough to make me cover my mouth so I don't puke. I could feel myself getting dizzy just smelling the stuff. Once we're inside the healer takes my hand and starts stroking it and talking in a language I do not know. Then he starts rubbing my arms and then my shoulders, all the while speaking this foreign stuff. I am still standing and in the middle of the room. Not only are my dad and step mom watching, but this healers family is there too. Then he turns me around and starts doing this weird lightly touching, sort of rubbing but not (it was weird what ever the heck he was doing) and then he suddenly stops (speaking too). I am staring at my dad with a look of "what the hell is going on" and he is staring at the healer with the same look. I wanted to bolt from this place as quickly as I could but I stood there. In the middle of the room, in silence, not moving. And I stood there for several minutes (maybe five). Then the healer started chanting loudly and kind of rubbing my back and almost the instant he did this the pain in my back was no longer and I had this weird feeling come over me. I seriously wanted to cry ... fear, nerves, lack of sleep. But I didn't. So after this the healer led us to this back room, which was almost pitch black, there was a small lamp on a table in the corner of the room. In the middle of the room was a chair and he motioned for me to sit in it. He chanted some more ... sometimes loud, sometimes soft. He touched the top of my head and my forehead. The then back of my neck. He repeated this several times. Then he rubbed my shoulders. And then it was over.
It was the weirdest shit. I never spoke a single word. As the healer was leading us back out to the front door my dad asked what happened. All the guy said was "better, better." I don't think he spoke english. The whole thing was weird. Crazy weird. We made our way back to the water taxi and across the icy waters before I spoke a word. Then it all came out. Full on bawling. I seriously have no idea what the hell happened (and neither does my dad or step mom). The pain in my back stayed away for almost 24 hours then it came back. My dad jokingly asked if I wanted to go back to the healer again once the pain returned. I shot him one of the dirtiest looks ever.
This person supposedly is a licensed healer but I have my doubts. The only thing I do know is he smokes a lot of weed and I couldn't get away from the smell for days!!
So, there you have it. My "hope in Alaska" trip.
I am now whispering, it's a faint whisper, but this started happening before the "hope" trip. And I was told it could happen once my vocal cords recovered from surgery more. But I'll take a faint whisper over being completely mute anyday. I still use sign language, and write on my dry erase board a lot, because sometimes the whisper is there and sometimes it's not.
Hope everyone is enjoying "green day."
hugs ~
We make it to the place and the moment the door opens I smell weed. And a lot of it. FYI ... here in Alaska it's legal to have 4 oz of marijuana in your possession. So, the place reeks, enough to make me cover my mouth so I don't puke. I could feel myself getting dizzy just smelling the stuff. Once we're inside the healer takes my hand and starts stroking it and talking in a language I do not know. Then he starts rubbing my arms and then my shoulders, all the while speaking this foreign stuff. I am still standing and in the middle of the room. Not only are my dad and step mom watching, but this healers family is there too. Then he turns me around and starts doing this weird lightly touching, sort of rubbing but not (it was weird what ever the heck he was doing) and then he suddenly stops (speaking too). I am staring at my dad with a look of "what the hell is going on" and he is staring at the healer with the same look. I wanted to bolt from this place as quickly as I could but I stood there. In the middle of the room, in silence, not moving. And I stood there for several minutes (maybe five). Then the healer started chanting loudly and kind of rubbing my back and almost the instant he did this the pain in my back was no longer and I had this weird feeling come over me. I seriously wanted to cry ... fear, nerves, lack of sleep. But I didn't. So after this the healer led us to this back room, which was almost pitch black, there was a small lamp on a table in the corner of the room. In the middle of the room was a chair and he motioned for me to sit in it. He chanted some more ... sometimes loud, sometimes soft. He touched the top of my head and my forehead. The then back of my neck. He repeated this several times. Then he rubbed my shoulders. And then it was over.
It was the weirdest shit. I never spoke a single word. As the healer was leading us back out to the front door my dad asked what happened. All the guy said was "better, better." I don't think he spoke english. The whole thing was weird. Crazy weird. We made our way back to the water taxi and across the icy waters before I spoke a word. Then it all came out. Full on bawling. I seriously have no idea what the hell happened (and neither does my dad or step mom). The pain in my back stayed away for almost 24 hours then it came back. My dad jokingly asked if I wanted to go back to the healer again once the pain returned. I shot him one of the dirtiest looks ever.
This person supposedly is a licensed healer but I have my doubts. The only thing I do know is he smokes a lot of weed and I couldn't get away from the smell for days!!
So, there you have it. My "hope in Alaska" trip.
I am now whispering, it's a faint whisper, but this started happening before the "hope" trip. And I was told it could happen once my vocal cords recovered from surgery more. But I'll take a faint whisper over being completely mute anyday. I still use sign language, and write on my dry erase board a lot, because sometimes the whisper is there and sometimes it's not.
Hope everyone is enjoying "green day."
hugs ~
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Hope in Alaska, right?!
Breathtaking beauty ...
Someone tell me that I am not a looney for agreeing with my step mother to be awake at this God awful hour to drive 250 miles away (mostly on a dirt - now snowy covered - road) to a secluded town (population 200 - or around that number) that is only accessible by taking a small ass boat (maybe a tad bit bigger than a row boat) across several miles of the freezing, icy Pacific to be "seen" by a Native (Alaskan) "medicine healer." Because right about now I am feeling like I've lost my damn mind. Hope. It's all about hope, right? It will be ok, right? We will not get stuck traveling down this dirt - now snowy covered - road, right? We will not tip over in this boat (which looks like a row boat) and die from instant hypothermia when our bodies plunge into the freezing, icy waters of the Pacific, right? It will be ok, right? It's all about hope, right? Hope. I haven't lost my mind. Have I?
Someone tell me that I am not a looney for agreeing with my step mother to be awake at this God awful hour to drive 250 miles away (mostly on a dirt - now snowy covered - road) to a secluded town (population 200 - or around that number) that is only accessible by taking a small ass boat (maybe a tad bit bigger than a row boat) across several miles of the freezing, icy Pacific to be "seen" by a Native (Alaskan) "medicine healer." Because right about now I am feeling like I've lost my damn mind. Hope. It's all about hope, right? It will be ok, right? We will not get stuck traveling down this dirt - now snowy covered - road, right? We will not tip over in this boat (which looks like a row boat) and die from instant hypothermia when our bodies plunge into the freezing, icy waters of the Pacific, right? It will be ok, right? It's all about hope, right? Hope. I haven't lost my mind. Have I?
Sunday, February 21, 2010
A little bit of light ...
Nothing in life can ever prepare you for finding out you have cancer. Nothing in life can ever prepare you for finding out you will never speak again.
Had you asked me a month ago how I felt, I would have told you to go away and let me die. It's amazing what a few good friends and a wonderful supporting family can do to help pick you up off the ground when you feel like there is nothing to stand up to or for anymore.
I've spent a lot of time with family - learning a new (or not so new) way of communicating.
I've also spent many hours focusing on me - what REALLY matters, what doesn't - who REALLY matters, who doesn't (and the ones that don't are usually the ones you thought really did) - re-doing my bucket list (prioritizing, and adding).
There are good days and there are bad, but the bad seem to be less and less often. Living with cancer and the after affects of treatment are hard. But it doesn't mater how many times you fall down, it's how many times you get back up that does. And one can never be victorious without putting up a damn good fight to win.
I chose to have surgery even though I was very well aware that the chances of it helping me get my voice back was very little. I so badly wanted to wake up afterwards and hear my voice again. But I didn't. Of course I was disappointed, but does having a voice REALLY matter? Nope. It doesn't change who I am. I am still me - just a quiet me now.
I am heading to Alaska this week, for a month. I love it there, especially in the winter time, when the moon comes up over the mountains at noon but never really seems to disappear. Makes me realize that even though my life seems full of darkness - there is ALWAYS a little bit of light shining thru. And that little bit of light is what gets me thru each and every day.
Had you asked me a month ago how I felt, I would have told you to go away and let me die. It's amazing what a few good friends and a wonderful supporting family can do to help pick you up off the ground when you feel like there is nothing to stand up to or for anymore.
I've spent a lot of time with family - learning a new (or not so new) way of communicating.
I've also spent many hours focusing on me - what REALLY matters, what doesn't - who REALLY matters, who doesn't (and the ones that don't are usually the ones you thought really did) - re-doing my bucket list (prioritizing, and adding).
There are good days and there are bad, but the bad seem to be less and less often. Living with cancer and the after affects of treatment are hard. But it doesn't mater how many times you fall down, it's how many times you get back up that does. And one can never be victorious without putting up a damn good fight to win.
I chose to have surgery even though I was very well aware that the chances of it helping me get my voice back was very little. I so badly wanted to wake up afterwards and hear my voice again. But I didn't. Of course I was disappointed, but does having a voice REALLY matter? Nope. It doesn't change who I am. I am still me - just a quiet me now.
I am heading to Alaska this week, for a month. I love it there, especially in the winter time, when the moon comes up over the mountains at noon but never really seems to disappear. Makes me realize that even though my life seems full of darkness - there is ALWAYS a little bit of light shining thru. And that little bit of light is what gets me thru each and every day.
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