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."

Fretting Forgetting

Of all the things I miss,

I think I miss my mind the most.

Have I said that before? Probably. Humour me. Chemo brain on the loose again...

Such silly little things. Such a big ego. Today I was running an errand or two for my dear 84 year old poppa' bear.

Dad...if you are reading this, do turn away. Go check the latest family shenanigans on Facebook.

For the rest of you, I guess I am looking for a bit of sympathy...empathy...pity...maybe.

Dad had called me earlier and asked me to pick up a gift certificate from the local bistro and take it over to his friend's place. It was a nice birthday gift. It was a nice gesture. Now if I could have only found a nice way to tell him I forgot to stop and pick it up, then it wouldn't have been so bad.

I arrived at Dad's and lo and behold, I looked him in the eye and suddenly became aware that I had neglected to do the task. Panic took over and I immediately dashed out to fulfill my duty. I left Dad in a whir and uttered something about being right back. I think he is getting used to my fretful forgetful moments.

The lovely gal in the restaurant, chatted away to me and I nodded and smiled. She nicely prepared the certificate. I thanked her and dashed out the door reminding myself not to toss the gift card into the depths of my delightfully lovely oversize, teal carry on bag.

I got to my car, pressed my keyless lock on my keychain. Nothing. I pressed it again. Still nothing. I noticed the time and looked around the parking lot for anyone who might be staring at a full grown middle aged nitwit talking to her key chain.

I tried the driver's side door, just incase it was already open and I didn't hear the familiar 'click.'

Wouldn't open. I went around the other side and did the same. Panic and confusion filled any available recesses of sanity and I wondered what to do next. Then a trickle of hope tickled my inner child as I remembered that there was a telephone number on my rear window. I would call and they would pop my locks.

Suddenly I had a burst of sanity and my inner child whispered, "You dope...try the key in the lock first."

I fiddled with my keys and found the one that should have opened the door. I fiddled and tried the seven or eight keys on my chain. What was going on? None fit. I looked inside the car, and to my chagrin...I didn't recognize the tidy inners. The folded blanket. The dangling chain. I saw the neatly placed items in the little cup holders and realized that I'd just been trying to break into someone else's car.

I talked to my keychain once again and glanced around the parking lot. I tried not to make eye contact with anyone who might have spotted the strange lady trying to break into the car at the downtown restaurant.

Three cars over I spotted it. Another car just like mine with all the lights on, doors unlocked, the trunk ajar. It really was mine this time. I sheepishly meandered over, closed the trunk, slid into the driver's seat and buckled up. :)

I'm really hoping no one got me on video...small towns are great but I really don't want it to be official that I am going slightly cuckoo (yet.) Sigh.

Chemo Brain

Today is the one year anniversary of my surgery -"salpingo-bilateral oopherectomy & hysterectomy." Say that fast five times.

It seems there are lots of anniversaries playing around in my mind of late. I was wondering if there is something amiss or is this a normal thought pattern? I can't figure out why cancer consumes me. It's not as if I have nothing better to do or think about. Cancer is always there. But then, when I think of cancer, I think of Jesus and I think of what a difference He has made in my life. Maybe cancer is my thorn...

“To keep me from becoming conceited because of these surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.”
Hmmm... 2 Corinthians 12:7

And then there are times when my brain is a little addled. I don't seem to be able to remember things like I should sometimes. I know some people laugh at me and maybe think I am a bit of a dimwit, but I am convinced that I have chemo brain. I have done a little checking with some of my new friends who have had chemotherapy, and it has certainly come to my attention (and to my relief) that I am not alone. I have also done some research online about 'chemo brain.' Guess what? It's a real affliction. Here's a snippet that I found interesting on a medical forum:

"Doctors pump the body full of harmful chemicals in an attempt to kill off the cancerous cells, but the treatment is not a very targeted one. Apart form the well-known side effects of hair loss, nausea and fatigue, cognitive impairment is now becoming increasingly studied. Dubbed “Chemo Brain,” many chemotherapy patients feel disconnected from their pre-treatment state. People who have chemo-brain may find themselves unable to concentrate on their work, or unable to juggle multiple tasks. Some find they don’t remember things as well as they used to."

So we tally forth and face the music - with or without the same amount of functioning gray matter. For any of you who may be wondering about this chemo brain affliction, and want to listen to a little longer presentation check out this video.

This is a presentation by Dr. Christine Korol of the Alberta Cancer Board about the cognitive changes that can occur during cancer treatment.