Imagine That!



Miss J contemplating imagination.

We have recently discovered that Miss J has some imaginary friends. Miss J is my beautiful granddaughter who is able to win Grandma over with a single bat of the eye! I have the privilege of watching her every Tuesday morning. So this past week I was treated to a special moment. Miss J decided to share the intimate details about her imaginary friends.  She has more than one side-kick, it seems. Two are very active although, nameless. One goes by the title - Insiducer (not sure if I have the correct spelling - can't find it in a baby name book!) She told me that her first two [nameless friends] are exactly like her with long, blonde hair and light skin. "Insiducer is longer," she said. She also has darker hair, I was informed. And the very best part about Miss J's imaginary friends, is that there is an imaginary Grandma! Imagine that? How honoured I am that my little cupcake, who was born two days before I went under the knife in 2008, counts a grandma in her band of imaginary friends.

 I remember well that day when I counted backwards on the operating table. I recall wondering if I would have the privilege of seeing my little granddaughter grow up. And Mr. T, my grandson and Miss J's big brother, was a whopping two and a half years old at the time. He and I had spent many hours together since he was born and my heart broke thinking I might not see his smiling face anymore or experience his tiny hands in mine or feel his squashy 'I love you, Grandma' kisses on my cheek.

Mr. T on the right. Mr. L on the left. Listening to the angels, perhaps?

Everything I read and heard about ovarian cancer indicated that I might not survive longer than five years. I tried not to show it, but my heart cried because I longed to experience more of what life was offering me. My son and his new wife one day hoped to fill their home with the pitter patter of little feet, too. I ached to be around for that.

Then it happened. My darling Mr.L with the hauntingly gorgeous, blue eyes was born a little over a year later to my son and daughter in law. Mr. L's energy level inspires me to laugh out loud everytime I see him. How his impish grin warms the cockles of my heart. And when he takes a breather to kiss his ol' grandma, I walk on a cloud.

So here I am three years and four months after the fact...one year and 8 months to go, then I will be declared cancer-free! On that day, I want to go out to celebrate. I want to be around all of my family at one time. I want to kiss them and hug them and thank them and love them.

I thank God every day for the lessons I learned during my cancer journey. I thank God for my family, for my friends and especially for my grandbabies. But most, I thank God that He has declared my life 'not quite full' so I get to play it again for a while longer.

(If Miss J asks me to hang out with her imaginary grandma, I'll be more than glad to do so; I'm just happy I am not really the imaginary one!)

Oh yes...P.S. I am also very thankful to God because Mr. L is going to be a big brother in about 6 months.

Life is good!

Close Your Eyes

I have the sweetest little grand daughter ever. She melts my heart and gets away with things she really shouldn't...but that angelic little smile; the minxy little grin; that tender little voice...I just cannot resist. Miss J tends to be a little bossy, so her loving, patient momma does try to keep her in check just so she doesn't take over every situation. But she also balances that by letting her have her way plenty of times so she can hone her leadership tendencies! (She's a good momma' my girl!) 

Lunchtime yesterday was a case in point.

"I want to pray," announced three year old Miss J as we settled in to munch on our soup and sandwiches. There were no ifs, ands or buts...she was going to deliver the lunchtime sermon and we had better just bow and listen.

"Oh the Lord is Good to Me, is what I'm gonna' do," Miss J said. She reached out her soft little hands. My hungry grandson, their momma and I joined together, bowed our heads and closed our eyes [well, at least Mr. T and I did.] So Jocelyn started off in her adorable & pleasant voice:

"Oh the Lord is good to me
And so I thank Him for,
For giving me..."
All of a sudden without skipping a beat Jocelyn said

"...Mom, close your eyes!
...the things I need; the sun and the rain
And the appleseed, the Lord is good to me!"

I could barely keep from guffawing through the Amen.

Talk about a chip of the old block. I know many times Mommy, in her wonderful way of teaching her young ones, has told the children to close their eyes when they pray. Obviously the lesson sank in. Miss J, because she was in charge of covering the meal in prayer, also thought it her role to keep one eye open for the blighters who might not be fully focussing. Momma Bear was found out!

So when Miss J gave us the nod to release our prayerful pose, both Momma and Grandma headed straight to the walk-in pantry for a moment to compose ourselves. Oh my, I cannot wait until this little lass gets married. Grandma has her hand up to be the MC!

Lost and Found

As I foraged through my computer maze, trying to clean out some of the accumulated 'stuff,' I came across this in a gmail draft folder. Not sure why I didn't post it at the time. It looks like I wrote it three years ago - likely at the end of my chemotherapy. Care to read my heart at the time? Here goes:



Big Poppa 3 years later after I wrote
this and he's still going strong!



I am so blessed that my wonderful 82 year old Dad is a mere breath away and living amazingly well - alone and only a few hours drive from Drayton. Since my little burp on the health richter scale, I don't see him enough, and I miss him, but thank goodness we stay in touch. My other sisters have stepped in and are keeping an eye, which is comfort to me When Mom died, we were all lost without her. She was the matriarch, the backbone and the driving force for our family. Dad found it tough, being alone and dealing with the grief and sadness

I miss my mother a lot. No matter how old one gets, there's just something about a mother's arms that make things seem a little better. Since being diagnosed with cancer, I have secretly longed to be rocked and to be soothed and to be held close to my mother's heart. But that never happened. Mom's heart failed. On July 20th, 2007, Mom breathed her last and she went to be with Jesus. That was nine months before I even had an inkling about my journey into the sea of untoward cells and the seemingly endless rounds of chemotherapy.

I am glad Mom was not around to see me travel down this cancer road, although I will admit that I selfishly desired the comfort and consolation only a Mom can offer. Mom's frail heart was wearing out and I had been spending quite a long time caring for her. I can't help thinking now how grateful I am that Mom did not have to know and worry about me being sick. There were times when she would tell me that I was making myself sick. She would admonish me and remind me that I needed to take care of myself. I would laugh at her and hug her and then she would give me that wonderful maternal look. Yes I miss my mother. I look forward to that wonderful reunion one day. I will hug her and love her and tell her 'thanks.' (I don't think I did that enough.) Go call or hug your mom. Tell her you love her; that you are sorry; that you miss her; that you are thankful for all that she did for you. You won't regret it, for we never know when darkness will come.

*************

Still wondering why I didn't share this. Probably meant to...the chemo knocked out a few of my favourite memory cells, I guess...

Isaiah 40:31 "But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint."

Survivor Sadness

They said she lost 30 pounds in two weeks. Seems like a lot. But they said she just stopped eating and drinking. Diarrhea, dysphagia and dehydration took over and the diagnosis was in. Ovarian cancer. No one was sure what stage, but it didn't sound too hopeful.

She was the sister of my friend's sister in law. I didn't know her but once I heard the words, ovarian cancer, I knew she was now my sister, too. I asked plenty of questions and quietly decided that I would find a way to help or to at least encourage, pray and introduce her to hope. But, sadly, it wasn't to be. Within 24 hours of her diagnosis, I learned that this dear woman had slipped into the arms of Jesus because of this wretched, whispering disease - ovarian killer cancer -  just two days before Christmas.

When I heard this I wept. I felt guilt. I felt sadness. Why should a sister succumb and I still get to sit around the Christmas tree and gaze upon the beautiful eyes of my children and grandchildren? I wake up every morning three years post battle and resume my activities of daily living? Yes, I know about the stages and the importance of finding it early and treatment and strategies and successful chemo...

So why was my cancer found in the early stage? And why was the chemotherapy I endured  deemed successful? Why am I in remission and why is my sister dead?

I am glad I am still here to tell my story. It surely was a blessing that my t

ime was not up (I am not ready [at least in my mind] to cross into glory. I still have a long to-do list.)  But when I hear of other women who are afflicted and die according to statistics, I weep and wonder.

Meanwhile I continue to carry the torch of hope. I try my best to tell my story to those who will listen. I also try to listen better to others who want to tell theirs; I pray longer and trust God more. I try to laugh more and care less about silly things. There is plenty of advice out there about how to `live like you were dying.` So that`s my goal these days; because I sort of know what that feels like.

But today, my heart is heavy. I will battle the guilt in my own private way and I will wear teal for you, my sister...in your memory.

Say `hello`to Jesus for me...

Happy Birthday, Mom!

There's me sucking my thumb, as usual!

   Not sure, Mom, if that was you who just made everything - including this lovely sepia picture of you, Grandma Williams, Poppa, Rosemary and me, fall off the wall. You always did have a flair for the dramatic and I remember you telling me often that when you moved on to greener pastures you would find a way to get in touch with me and let me know that you are A-okay. I keep watching the tea cups! Nothing yet. But you sure got Gilles' and my attention a few minutes ago. And not only did the framed photograph go flying, so did the mirrored cabinet, the inukshuk that Laura made for me, the lovely little china ornament that Sue gave me a long time ago, the glass framed picture of Rosemary and her grandbabies, the miniature piano and its wooden stool. Nothing broke. When Gilles and I turned around to look after the  spectacular crash - not an iota of glass, mirror, wood or anything else was shattered. The top of the inukshuk fell off, but it wasn't attached anyway. Everything else was intact. We couldn't believe it. That seemed more than a little odd!

     As I contemplated the law of physics and the height from which all this fell, it occurred to me. Today would have been your 85th birthday. I am thinking that you were perhaps reminding me not to forget. You always did like reminding us about this special day. You always loved the celebrations, didn't you, Mom?

     As I sit here contemplating life, assessing all the pre-Christmas busyness, the wonderful crew who will be appearing on our doorstep, Saturday, the Sunday out of town party and how I really should make a list and check it twice, I suddenly realize once again how very much I miss you.

     It's been four and a half years since you went to be with Jesus, Mom. Most days I cope and think of you often. Other times, like now, I am once more reduced to a bubbling little girl who longs for her mommy's arms. Christmas does that to me. I know how you loved Christmas and getting together with all the grandchildren and great grandchildren. The quiver is growing, Mom. You would be proud - and ready for a long nap after the big day - "Glad to see them come...but glad to see them leave..." was your 'no beating around the bush' mantra!

     Not sure how you celebrate birthdays in heaven but just know that we are thinking of you and praying for you today. Happy Birthday, Mom. All my love Glynis (who is now off to pick up the mess!) xx

Some things are just worth shouting from the mountain top! What amazing news. Way to go University of Guelph and the doctoral students on the research team.

Marine Motivation

 

    Four tiny fish swim around and around in the square glass container with the purple rocks. It's a tiny tank but Rosemary, my sister and fish aficionado, told me that the four little bubblers would be fine in there. She told me not to expect my new pets to grow very much, though. Because of the confines of their new home, growth would apparently be limited. Fish grow according to what they perceive to be their boundaries. I looked at the gigantic goldfish gamboling in my Dad's pond. I teetered between feeling good about having rescued these four little blighters from a life of possible peril and feeling guilty that they would never get as big as the other poissons in the pond.

It all started with Dad's desire to have a backyard water garden of sorts. As I mentioned, my big sis' knows a lot about fish and setting up an outside pond. She had her own for years. So to make Big Poppa happy and to complete his landscaping request, she made him a terrific backyard pond. I was so impressed with her handiwork and how asthetically pleasing she created it to be.

Be Fruitful and do your Math!

Rosemary did such a fine job, though, that the environment was seemingly perfect for that age old command to Be Fruitful and Multiply. And multiply, they did. Over the summer we watched numerous hatchings happen. There were gold ones, white ones, black ones, black and white ones, black and gold ones, white, black and gold ones; you name it, the combinations were there. In the end there must have been at least a hundred extra pretty little finned critters vying for a spot in the pond.

And the answer is!

A decision had to be made. The original sixteen big boys (and obviously girls) would be crowded out if the junior swimmers stayed. There was only room for about 20 in the original pond, according to Rosemary's rulebook. So the others had to go. We started thinking about what to do with the extra goldfish. My daughter put her hand up and said she would take a dozen. I remembered a lovely square glass fishbowl that sat silent in my pantry, so I piped up and offered to take a few. The rest we decided, would go to JJ's pond. We all pretended not to think about all the stocked bass in Rosemary's son's pond. We didn't want to consider the possibility of the other 84 or so leftover critters being bass bait. We didn't dare tell that part to Dad. He would sooner make his pond bigger and save them all. But since that was not feasible, we described the vastness of JJ's pond and how happy the extra fish would be (as long as they were fast swimmers and knew how to hide!)

We did our duty and Rosemary and I lowered the motley crew destined for JJ's pond into the big Rubbermaid ® container with the holes poked in the top. I picked out four cuties for my bowl and my daughter saved her 12.

So now here I sit gazing into their square glass home. I like watching them swim around but I still feel a little guilty about taking them away from their spacious environment and not giving them an opportunity to 'lay low' in JJ's huge pond. At least there they might have grown and reached their potential size.

As I look at this gaily coloured marine quartet swimming around in their limited enviroment, call it odd, but I find myself comparing their existence to my own. Then I wonder if I have got myself into a bit of a fishbowl mentality in my writing life. Am I denying opportunities that God has placed right in front of my face? Do I need to talk less and listen more (to His still small voice?) Somedays I feel like I am doing nothing but going in circles. I have a million ideas swimming around in my head but it seems I get nowhere - fast. I know I have a lot of personal things happening but surely I can find significant time to expand my own fishbowl.

Maybe it's a good thing that I adopted my four fishies. Maybe it's a good thing that they are in a prominent place in my house to serve as a reminder. Maybe it's time I find ways to expand my own boundaries and make sure I am doing what God tells me to, rather than what I think. I am pretty sure God doesn't want me swimming around for too long in my self-imposed fishbowl. In fact, I'm having a little trouble navigating around. Time to get back to the drawing board and review my plan of action. Swim said the mamma fish, swim if you can...

On Being Thankful - A Perspective about Attitude

I wish I was wiser.Why can't I get published more?
How is it that other people get 1000s of hits on their blog and I only get hundreds?
If someone asks me a biblical question and I cannot answer it, I feel less of a Christian.
We don't have our sod in yet and we have lived in our new house for over a year now.
I am too fat.
I am too wrinkly.
I am too tall if I wear high heels.
I am directionally challenged and get lost too often.
I forget all the time. The chemotherapy fried my brain.
My book isn't finished.
I have to look after my Dad every day.
I wish I could draw or paint
It's too cold.
It's too hot.
My feet hurt
I have to pay the dispensing fee on my medication
I don't know what to make for supper
My husband snores
Some people gossip at church
I've nothing to be thankful for today. Everything went wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

GIVE THANKS

WITH A GRATEFUL HEART
GIVE THANKS
TO THE HOLY ONE
GIVE THANKS
FOR HE'S GIVEN
JESUS CHRIST, HIS SON

AND NOW LET THE WEAK SAY I AM STRONG

LET THE POOR SAY
I AM RICH
BECAUSE OF WHAT
THE LORD HAS DONE
FOR US
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wish I was wiser.

My students love me and think I am pretty smart. Kyle asked me yesterday if I know the meaning of every word in the dictionary when we were discussing vocabulary. He made me smile.

Why can't I get published more?

God has me just where he wants me in my writing career. I am thankful that I write a regular column, that I recently won a couple of prizes in a writing contest and that my writer's group value my teaching and some of them are making contacts and getting published. I also like it when I can grasp snippets of time in my busy day to write.

How is it that other people get 1000s of hits on their blog and I only get hundreds?

Thank goodness people are reading my blog. If I were to line up 100 people that would be a lot of people who are being reached by my words. What if I encourage even one? What if one person draws closer to God because of something I wrote? What if one woman was saved from later stage cancer because she read something on my blog about detecting ovarian cancer early?

If someone asks me a biblical question and I cannot answer it, I feel less of a Christian.

I have quite a few different Bibles. If I need to look something up, I can use any one of these translations or I can use my laptop computer to search for answers. Most of all I can pray without fear of persecution and ask God to reveal things to me.

We don't have our sod in yet and we have lived in our new house for over a year now.

We finally own our own home. It has a been a bit of a journey but my happy hubby did a lot of the work. We have been trying to spend wisely and divvy our paycheques. We always have a roof over our head and we work on the finishing touches when we have the time and the money. I think the sod will be in before the snow flies!

I am too fat.

I sure don't get cold too often! :) My grandchildren love to snuggle. My reflection is only surface. I love my stairs - they are a great place to get extra exercise.

I am too wrinkly.

Miss J. said that when I laugh I get lines on my face. I love my laugh lines. Laughter is the perfect cover for wrinkles.

I am too tall if I wear high heels.

Grace and finesse were never for me. If I wore high heels, I would likely end up having to wear support stockings - not a pretty sight.

I am directionally challenged and get lost too often.

Only Onstar and Google Maps know how often I get lost. They are not about to tell.

I forget all the time. The chemotherapy fried my brain.

But the chemotherapy also fried the cancer cells. Another good check-up again this past month. So far, so good. One day at a time sweet Jesus.

My book isn't finished.

My book is at least underway and I received some positive reviews from an editor I met at a writer's conference.

I have to look after my Dad every day.

My 85 year old Dad has all his marbles, is still able to live alone, trusts me with his affairs and still calls me Dinny (my childhood nickname)

I wish I could draw or paint

I can write and teach.

It's too cold.

I have a full wardrobe and I live in a warm house.

It's too hot.

I have an oscillating fan by my bed with a remote control. We have air conditioning in our new house. We live in Canada. Soon the snow will cool me down.

My feet hurt

I don't need a wheelchair or a walker. If I have pain, I have medication that is paid for through a drug plan from my hubby's work.

I have to pay the dispensing fee on my medication

I read about the man who has a terminal disease and he has to pay for his own medication - $3000 a month.

I don't know what to make for supper

I have a choice. I have food in my freezer, produce in my garden and I cannot recall the last time I ever had to go hungry because the cupboard was bare.

My husband snores

I have a man who loves me despite all my foibles; who has stuck around for 34 years as of next February and who brings me a cup of tea in bed then kisses me good morning (every morning.)

Some people gossip at church

Our church is a loving caring safe place and when I was first diagnosed with cancer I had over 100 cards decorating my wall. People visited regularly and I had meals for weeks and then some. Some of the ladies organized a team and looked after my garden and flower beds all summer long. My congregation prayed without ceasing for our family.

I've nothing to be thankful for today. Everything went wrong.

The brilliant sun shone down on me as I was outside gathering the last of my fresh tomatoes off the vine. One of my students thanked me implicitly for the help I gave her on her project and with her math this afternoon. My granddaughter said she wanted to stay at my house today instead of going home. My sister said she appreciates me. I am sitting here looking at photographs of my family who are all coming for dinner on Thanksgiving Day. I am so excited. Jesus love me this I know (for the Bible tells me so!)

"...be filled with the Spirit, ¹⁹ speaking to one another with psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit. Sing and make music from your heart to the Lord, ²⁰ always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." Ephesians 5:18b- 20

Eight is Great!

So last Wednesday I tread with trepidation once again, into the cancer clinic. I had been shifted from a check-up every six months back to every three months because of a few suspect problems. I wasn't really worried because deep down in the recesses of my soul, I know God has everything under control. Admittedly I am notorious for snatching things back and then fear rears it's ugly head. But this time I really tried to trust, to rest in Him, to count blessings and to smile.

The oncologist and I had a good chat and after a thorough check up, we discussed a few more things and then he filled out a requisition for bloodwork and sent me on my merry way. The lab, tucked in the corner of the cancer clinic, beckoned me and as I crossed the threshold, the memories surfaced. I took a number and a seat. Then I stupidly wondered where the candy dish was.  Each time I had had my blood work done prior to chemo, the kindly volunteer had always offered me a sweet treat. But there was no candy. There was no yellow-clad volunteer, either.

Within a few moments a young gal called me in and I climbed into the big leather recliner and assumed the position. As the blood gurgled slowly into the tube, I prayed. I always pray that God's will be done, but I also always hope that my will matches His!

And the good news is...it did today.  I called back to the cancer clinic - just as my primary care nurse had told me.  Normal readings for a CA 125 are between 0 & 35 U/ml. My winning number today was 8! It beats the 1500+ that it was prior to chemo!

 So now, I do my best to not think about what might have been and try to focus on what's in store tomorrow.  I will get up, inhale, give thanks for that breath, smile and then tackle the day. Bring it on.  Life is good one day at a time!

Ovarian Cancer Canada Kitchener Mini Walk of Hope

It's here. Amanda and I have been rushed off our feet and busy as those proverbial buzzing critters for the past while, but the Walk of Hope is ready to roll and is scheduled for take-off tomorrow morning at Victoria Park Kitchener. For some kooky reason I am feeling a tad emotional right now as I contemplate what we are doing. A few minutes ago I looked back in my journal to see what I  was doing on September 11th, 2008. 

                            "This was my fifth chemo-day. It was long and I was tired..." my journal entry begins.

Yes, that stinkin' bittersweet poison that dripped away choking out the cancer cells. Hard to forget those times.  Chemo took its toll. I still have tell-tale effects that I don't think will ever go away - tingling in my toes and feet; memory pauses (that's a nice way of saying stupidly forgetful); sleeplessness and other niggling things. But I made it through thus far and I am jolly-well grateful and am enjoying survivor-status. I can handle and truly live with those  leftover reminders, when I think about what might have been.

God didn't quite have my heavenly room ready, I guess and I am thinking He had some other plans for this noisy girl. Hopefully I am on the right track.

Doing my part to help spread the word and raise awareness about the signs and symptoms of ovarian cancer seems to be a bit of a passion - one of the reasons for my involvement in this Walk of Hope tomorrow. Maybe I am supposed to be a mouthpiece - not exactly one of my weaknesses.

As I hit the pillow tonight, I am praying for sunshine tomorrow, for a great crowd, for an injury free walk, for sisters everywhere who are dealing with ovarian cancer to realize they are not alone and for this event to leave a sweet taste in the mouth of participants and volunteers alike. An extra prayer tossed in for the tent not collapsing or me not forgetting what I am supposed to say, for some divine appointments and for anyone battling the disease to feel HOPE.

Yours Truly September 2008 at the Barrie Walk of Hope; we've come a long way baby!
(I think I am wearing the same shoes tomorrow at the Kitchener Walk. Yikes! I need to go shopping.) 

Thanks everyone for your support.