tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54955379203931190782024-03-18T22:43:31.978-05:00Quilting, Chemo, and Quiet TimesRhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-48015952579090100562016-11-12T13:40:00.000-06:002016-11-12T13:40:12.227-06:00The Robertsons Hit the Road!Ah, what a long time since I've posted to my blog. I suppose the full name may no longer be relevant, since I haven't been on chemo in over 6 years. I still quilt and I still have my quiet times. Things just aren't as stressed as they were when I started this blog. No more cancer, a few more years added to my age, several relatives have gone on to heaven, family has grown, etc, etc. You can fill in any number of blanks, they will apply to me.<br />
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Mainly, I want to talk today about the vacation of a lifetime Mike and I took in October. We had always dreamed of a trip like this and we finally were able to do it. We left on Tuesday, October 4, 2016, and drove for sixteen days and covered over 6,000 miles to view national monuments, historical places, and the most beautiful places in the United States.<br />
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We drove through Missouri, Iowa, South Dakota, Wyoming, Utah, Nevada, California, Arizone, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and back home.<br />
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We visited the Badlands of South Dakota,<br />
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Mount Rushmore,<br />
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Yellowstone,<br />
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Grand Tetons,<br />
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Giant Redwood Forest,<br />
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Sequoia Forest,<br />
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Grand Canyon,<br />
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and then drove three days to get home! lol<br />
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We saw herds of buffalo, thousands of antelope, hundreds of prairie dogs, big horn sheep, and I know I'm leaving out some kind of wildlife, and we saw (and smelled) hundreds of dead skunks!<br />
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There were thousands of windmills "planted" in windmill farms. These things are massive!! Still wonder how the electricty gets from the middle of the desert to the homes. That's another blog for another day.<br />
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I can remember all the beautiful sights we saw, I just can't remember all the beds we slept in! Actually, if I look at the credit card statement, I can. We had vowed not to drive after dark so as the evening approached, we began looking for a nice motel. The places we stayed in were always very nice and predominantly very affordable. Restaurants recommended by desk clerks were generally very good places for suppers. Breakfast for the most part were free in the motels. We stayed in a couple of podunk towns, Wall, South Dakota and Williams Arizona, and also in large towns, Reno, Nevada and Sacramento, California, just to name a few.<br />
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And everyone knows you can't go anywhere without seeing someone from home. We met a woman from Savannah, TN in Williams Arizona on a train we rode to the south rim of the Grand Canyon. She was working on the train and had lived in Arizona for four years. She knew where our son's physical therapy clinic was in Savannah and described it to me! How funny is that?!<br />
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Oh, there is so much more to tell. I kept a journal of almost everything we saw and did. I wouldn't take anything for the opportunity we had to do this. I don't see us doing this again but it sure was a fun trip.<br />
<br />Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-16894584442286526842012-05-01T06:30:00.000-05:002012-05-01T06:30:19.778-05:00The Way Cindy DidOnce upon a time there was a girl named Cindy. She was my double first cousin. Our dads were brothers. Our moms were sisters. Hence, double first cousins. There may be a more technical term as in “once removed”, etc. I know not of such things. I just know what we called each other.<br />
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She was younger than me by three months. And I loved her very much. I admired her very much. I loved everything about her. Very much. Mom said when I was very young, I would say, “I wish I had long legs the way Cindy did.”<br />
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I remember coming home from school one afternoon and going to Cindy’s house. She picked up a wash cloth that was draped on the side of the lavatory, wet it, and began washing her face. My aunt came in and asked why she was using that cloth and told her she had just used it to scrub the sink. I will never forget the look on Cindy’s face. I wished I could make a funny face - the way Cindy did.<br />
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If there were a gathering of the aunts and uncles, and there were plenty of them, Cindy would always greet each of them with a hug that didn’t hold anything back. I was always a little reserved in my affection but admired her for her outgoing personality. I tried hugging those sweet relatives a little more freely – the way Cindy did.<br />
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We played together, went to school together, worked together at a little restaurant that served burgers and was the hang out for the local teens. We didn’t always work the same nights but it was a barrel of monkeys when we did. I tried to be a friendly, hard working, smiling waitress – the way Cindy did.<br />
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I wanted to have perfect teeth – the way Cindy did. I wanted to have the long straight hair that was so in style in the 60’s – the way Cindy did. I wanted to be able to drive a straight shift – the way Cindy did.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TeCRhkICMGd-Spi3OR1Wem645OhiN-233K3TU57B7Gw2a1wlVPA-GYUxzLDY_QSPwbeB20ZY9aMWvGTPDeikeBY5cCh1cpSQ85bmwzSTshHkJWPXpjB8HW-7jjGNYBtWHCqV8WqvGgY/s1600/Preggers+cousins.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" mea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TeCRhkICMGd-Spi3OR1Wem645OhiN-233K3TU57B7Gw2a1wlVPA-GYUxzLDY_QSPwbeB20ZY9aMWvGTPDeikeBY5cCh1cpSQ85bmwzSTshHkJWPXpjB8HW-7jjGNYBtWHCqV8WqvGgY/s200/Preggers+cousins.jpg" width="188" /></a>Yes, we grew older and as most always the case, grew apart. Not apart in a sense we never spoke or saw each other, but in the way life has of putting distance between cousins because of new family dynamics. We both married the same year we graduated from high school. Our first children were born 5 weeks apart. I had two sons. She had two daughters. I had four grandsons and one granddaughter. She had four granddaughters. We always lived within 20 miles of each other. </div>
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While we were still in our 20’s, Cindy was diagnosed with Hodgkins disease. She beat it, fighting for all she was worth. I hoped I would never have something like that happen to me – the way Cindy did.</div>
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Later in life, when things were moving along and we would see each other maybe once a year at a family reunion – Cindy began developing some health problems. I’m not sure of all the different things that began happening to her, but suffice it to say, they were not common things that could be easily diagnosed. I began to see a toughness, a determination, an “I’m gritting my teeth and digging in my heels – you’re not gonna beat me” attitude. I knew she wasn’t going to give in or give up. I prayed if it ever turned out to be me in the same situation that I could have that attitude – the way Cindy did.</div>
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I watched her bury her Daddy and cried with her. That was one thing I did not want to have to do – the way Cindy did. But a few short years later, she watched me bury my Daddy and cried with me. <br />
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When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I fought with all my might – the way Cindy did. Family reunion rolled around while I was in the midst of chemotherapy. The family was surprised when I was able to attend but nobody was happier to see me than Cindy. She didn’t even speak – just broke into tears and we hugged for a long, long time. I don’t think we wandered over 50 feet from each other that day. Nobody could make you feel loved – the way Cindy did.<br />
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Cindy’s illnesses kept getting worse and more complicated. She kept fighting and pushing on – nobody showed more Crouse stubbornness – the way Cindy did. But she got tired. She got weary. She got home sick. She just knew it was time. She set her “house” in order, kissed her husband good night, and closed her eyes one last time. She said good bye to all of us and hello to Jesus. I just know no one greeted Him (and our Daddies) – the way Cindy did.<br />
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I pray when my time comes, I have that “knowing” – the way Cindy did. I pray I can face it unafraid – the way Cindy did. I pray I can just close my eyes on this side of Heaven and open them on the other side – the way Cindy did.<br />
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Of all the loved ones I’ll meet again on the other side – no one will greet me – like Cindy will.<br />
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<br />Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-73318210925047756302012-01-11T08:54:00.000-06:002012-01-11T08:54:15.589-06:00A Week Or Two Late - Or Maybe Just Tardy.Can New Year resolutions be two weeks late? Or is it ever too late to make a resolution? No, I don't think so. Let's see what I've come up with this year.<br />
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1. Write in the blog at least once a week. But more would be alright, too.<br />
2. Concentrate on a speaking ministry, especially for the next two weeks, as I need to get a One Sheet perfected.<br />
3. Commit to cleaning out/up one location a week in my house. Such as a drawer, a closet, a collection of "stuff" ("stuff" not to include the quilting fabric.) (Actually, I've cleaned out two things this week! Yay me!)<br />
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There are more things in a very personal way I have committed to but I'm not prepared to share all those with you today. Suffice it to say, if I can keep all these personal resolutions on top of the others I've listed, I should be a very well rounded person come December, 2012! <br />
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We'll see.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-55661711773921916192011-12-23T08:23:00.037-06:002011-12-23T08:39:25.061-06:00Those Dreams Weren't So Faded After All<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wow, time flies when you're having fun. I meant to talk about what happened to the quilt much sooner than this. As the old saying goes, "Better late than never." However, that didn't hold true when I was teenager and coming in after curfew.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">My friend who took the quilt to the cleaners called after just a few days with good news/bad news; his team of experts was able to work wonders with the quilt in most of the squares/not all of the fade was possible to be removed. I want to thank them for their hard work and success as well as their willingness to face a challenge! They will be sufficiently rewarded in a few days. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana;">I decided to remove the red squares altogether and replace with black squares. I had enough fabric to be able to replace the unfixable white squares, too. Attached you can see the finished result. I was very pleased with the way it turned out and a very satisfied South Side High School band member took the quilt home with him. Next year will be another effort and it will be without red and hopefully, without so much drama!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yKFfUY9jheQ/TvSQ-qAET3I/AAAAAAAAAEU/-U4Z1Z8dRjQ/s1600/SSHS+quillt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" rea="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yKFfUY9jheQ/TvSQ-qAET3I/AAAAAAAAAEU/-U4Z1Z8dRjQ/s320/SSHS+quillt.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-48821689639041885082011-12-05T10:27:00.000-06:002011-12-05T10:27:59.388-06:00Faded Dreams<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0m2CesjnTclyy31kpGj-jM4WWEdmAk2q9bPd7BRmprgQyesZ3XZ-JtwS23fEt2XYfEaRys8VVVR5cK-ZNreywjrYsCag7Obq4UUQnPdWl6n82Iz9uaqb4brgpoje-1RP3tG3eFEr6jGA/s1600/Quilt+squares.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0m2CesjnTclyy31kpGj-jM4WWEdmAk2q9bPd7BRmprgQyesZ3XZ-JtwS23fEt2XYfEaRys8VVVR5cK-ZNreywjrYsCag7Obq4UUQnPdWl6n82Iz9uaqb4brgpoje-1RP3tG3eFEr6jGA/s200/Quilt+squares.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><strong><u> </u></strong><em><strong><u>The Quilt</u></strong>. </em>Planning - weeks of it. Selecting just the right fabrics - weeks for that, too. Studying in my mind about what it will look like - more weeks. It was going to be beautiful, specialized, customized, and just right. And it was! It turned out just like I had envisioned. The last step - throw it in the washing machine so the clipped seams would "rag." Raise the lid on the washing machine and pull it out - - - OH NO!!! The red had faded to the white!! Big ugly uneven splotches of pink all over the white squares. It was ruined. Tears rolled down my face. Sobs came from my chest. I had worked so hard. My mind had been consumed for weeks on this quilt. It was destined for a silent auction to raise money for my grandson's high school band program. Everyone would think it was just gorgeous and would bid on it and raise lots of money! Uncharacteristically, for me, I had finished it a week early! (The picture on the left are a <span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">couple</span> of the squares I embroidered on my machine to go into the quilt. Taken before the invasion of the red dye.)</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfKx4nJXRw51mVJtH1nHPTq0IHiAj-_zOY_U77eennMJdaPRMd3O6V-Na1yOwyd6cGRkX92VmOuV7t7ZApMNu2C1SoVKpG7BzKTqJaDT5B9W_cOikjwCtUYJXbz3z3I18-WPEzF6eAbI/s1600/ruined+quilt+square.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJfKx4nJXRw51mVJtH1nHPTq0IHiAj-_zOY_U77eennMJdaPRMd3O6V-Na1yOwyd6cGRkX92VmOuV7t7ZApMNu2C1SoVKpG7BzKTqJaDT5B9W_cOikjwCtUYJXbz3z3I18-WPEzF6eAbI/s200/ruined+quilt+square.JPG" width="150" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I couldn't even think about what to do to fix it. I didn't think I had time to make another. Should I tear it apart and try to salvage the usable squares? I didn't know. I put the problem on my Facebook page and got over 40 comments. One comment was from a friend who works at a dry cleaners. He told me not to do anything to it and bring it to him. It is now in his hands and I'll know in a couple of days if it can be cleaned up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Ok, so this is a <em>quilt</em>. It's a bunch of cotton fabric I bought in large pieces, cut into smaller pieces, and sewed back together to make it a different large piece. Sounds counter productive, doesn't it? But that's what quilters do. Sometimes we are able to sell the quilts for large sums of money. Sometimes we just give them away. Sometimes we hang onto them and refuse to let them go. But when you get right down to the bottom line - it's just a bunch of fabric. Fabric that probably costs too much. It's just a "thing." And this "thing" had taken over my mind, time, and emotions.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Why am I stressing over a "thing" that has a little monetary value, when there are children in the hospital that would love to have a special quilt to call their own? Why am I stressing over a "thing" when there are children in my own town that might not have enough supper to eat tonight before they go to bed? Why am I stressing over a "thing" when some children don't know where their parents are due to effects of drugs or alcohol? And why am I stressing over a "thing" when some parents aren't able to provide a nice Christmas for their children because they don't have a job, a job that was lost due to the economic times we are in?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Last year at this time, I was recovering from all the effects of cancer treatments. I have a warm house, plenty of food, a job, my health (again), a loving family who are all also healthy, and several quilts to bring me pleasure. So - if the ruined quilt can be repaired, that's good. If it can't - that's ok. I shall stop crying and whining and complaining and concentrate more on helping someone this Christmas that is less fortunate than I.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">I keep thinking of that parable Jesus told about the man who had so much "stuff" he was going to tear down all his barns and storage bins and build bigger ones. As he was planning on socking all that wealth away to live a long easy life, God stepped in. "You fool! You come here to me! Now we'll see who gets all your "stuff"!" (My translation.) To read the actual parable go to Luke 12:13-21.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Trebuchet MS;">Many times we can feel we are being generous. But are we ever generous enough? Are we too consumed with accumulating "stuff" and stressing over it if it doesn't measure up to our human standards? I think I need to ponder some more scripture.</span>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-26385773340812390132011-11-26T08:53:00.000-06:002011-11-26T08:53:10.001-06:00A Little Catching Up<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Wow! It has certainly been a while, yet again, since I have written in my blog. July 7 was the last post. Are you kidding me? So much has happened since I wrote that. And all of the happenings have been good. (Grammatically - should that title read "A Little Up Catching"?) </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI54lpe3vdJUMxqeK2-6aJ5Bu_yFBk8i8UpLV6NhMWYSq7GEa-CqG_NwtjtSZ4Jv_Qh31tgup0MywwUBos-fT9shZXhgHILORxvIL_Xw21VDNL-Jg-Ggrblyly6HrGyXzcik_aKJzAB50/s1600/P1190578.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI54lpe3vdJUMxqeK2-6aJ5Bu_yFBk8i8UpLV6NhMWYSq7GEa-CqG_NwtjtSZ4Jv_Qh31tgup0MywwUBos-fT9shZXhgHILORxvIL_Xw21VDNL-Jg-Ggrblyly6HrGyXzcik_aKJzAB50/s200/P1190578.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I met Juanita. She, Brenda, Donne, Sharon, and I planned and staged a quilt show in two months time. It was a booming success and we have already begun planning the show for next year. Stay tuned! </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5FBOccYOHtgwKQU9TmDl8d255r9rEnRiIubuib7GUxAVsvIwhy8qkQkRk_UxKz2uBvZUb5UKY4Onxgg46qQBhPHIdWllv3sUw32ymN3EKJkydNEwdNR0erJoy4QK8-uWsx0P7qVKb1Q/s1600/PA150255.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5FBOccYOHtgwKQU9TmDl8d255r9rEnRiIubuib7GUxAVsvIwhy8qkQkRk_UxKz2uBvZUb5UKY4Onxgg46qQBhPHIdWllv3sUw32ymN3EKJkydNEwdNR0erJoy4QK8-uWsx0P7qVKb1Q/s200/PA150255.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I entered three of my quilts in a show in a nearby town and won two ribbons, a blue and a red. Winners were determined by Viewers Choice vote. This meant so much to me because one of the quilts I had begun when Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer 5 1/2 years go. When he died, I put it away and didn't continue working on it again until I was diagnosed with breast cancer. On days when I felt like working on it, I did and completed it about the time I finished all my treatments and began feeling like a normal person again. I consider this quilt a Victory Quilt.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZBUTyxhNNHVlvU0CpWcFyWtts3MwedQtBA9Mf3pdIwFhWLQc6R_wB3-rNHfBjpaUFulfeOMCxzeMG-9VlqUkNwPWPnNagtTjenSFcGzg2JWRL5ZimwHlpXqYutHdwuk3bnu4viA8v4U/s1600/P9170195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hda="true" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvZBUTyxhNNHVlvU0CpWcFyWtts3MwedQtBA9Mf3pdIwFhWLQc6R_wB3-rNHfBjpaUFulfeOMCxzeMG-9VlqUkNwPWPnNagtTjenSFcGzg2JWRL5ZimwHlpXqYutHdwuk3bnu4viA8v4U/s320/P9170195.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Mike and I took a short vacation to Pigeon Forge, TN. It's the first time I'd been out of town, overnight, since before I was diagnosed with cancer. It was a much needed break for both of us and we had a wonderful time! The classic car show was in town and on Friday and Saturday traffic was horrific so we checked out early Saturday and went to Knoxville, got a room there so we could watch the Tennessee Vols play football - on tv! - and visited the Museum of Appalachia before game time. That is a wonderful experience. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I had the opportunity to travel to Lake Keowi, South Carolina and attend the Christian Communicators Conference. Friend and sister breast cancer survivor, Gail, traveled with me. This conference was designed to "Educate, Validate, and Launch" women into a speaking and writing ministry. This conference of 24 women was not held in an auditorium or hotel conference style setting. It was in a 6,000 square foot home consisting of 9 bedrooms and 7 baths overlooking a beautiful lake. We had a gourmet cook supplying all our meals and snacks and two of the most dynamic women I've ever met teaching us all we needed to know to help us get started in our speaking ministry. I learned so much and met new friends that will encourage me, pray for me, and hold me accountable. And I will do the same for them. In the very near future I will be announcing more about my ministry.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">And now it's the holiday season. Last year at this time I was recovering from all the effects of chemotherapy, radiation, and an emergency surgery on my colon! I had no hair and not much energy. But, Thank You Lord, I am back to an almost normal state this year. At the conference, we were encouraged to write and to blog as this opened up ideas and opportunities to speak. So I will try again to post more on this blog. And I thank you for reading it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier New;">One of the bible verses we focused on at the Conference was Psalms 45:1 "My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer." That verse needs a lot of pondering.</span>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-34682073975289637402011-07-07T23:43:00.000-05:002011-07-07T23:43:20.370-05:00Changing PassionsDo you believe passions come and go? Can there be different degrees of passions? Can one have more than one passion at a time? Is a passion really just having a one track mind? Therefore, does having more than one passion make one well rounded? What is your passion? What is MY passion, or passions?<br />
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At age 14 my passion, outside of normal "passions" at that age - namely boys, clothes, hair styles - was writing. I wrote poetry (see above sentence referencing "boys"). I started a book about two sisters driving to visit grandparents in another state in the older sister's new Mustang convertible. The characters and places in this book mirrored my life and family. Uh, except for the Mustang. I'm still waiting to realize that one. This passion continued through high school but was cooled down when I got married. My passion then became music. Country music. My uncle was a DJ for a country radio station that began sponsoring major country music stars to appear in the local coliseum. I was fortunate enough to be asked to be the opening act for one of those shows. I ended up with a little country band composed of normal working guys from around town and we played at local community centers and fairs. That was fun for a while. Life happened and son #1 came along. He was more important than music.<br />
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I suppose my next passion was crochet. Hours and hours of work, skeins and skeins of yarn, afghans by the dozens flew out of my crochet hook. Then it was counted cross stitch. Hours and hours of work, skeins and skeins of embroidery floss, dozens of projects flew out of my needle. <br />
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Then it was back to writing. I wanted to write a book. A real grown up book. I began attending writers conferences and workshops. I heard the same instructions over and over on how to write, organize, submit stories, pitch articles and book ideas. I began writing for a local paper that was published monthly. I wrote for them for seven years. <br />
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Then I began quilting. Rather, I began sewing quilts. Most people think of quilting as needle and thread, an old quilt frame hanging from the ceiling, old women sitting around the frame gossiping and sewing. That still happens in lots of places. Well I don't know about the gossiping part but absolutely I know about the quilting part. My quilting consists of a rotary cutter, cutting mat, ruler, sewing machine, and lots of fun. I think that is my passion now. If I didn't have to eat, sleep, and work I could really get a lot of sewing/quilting done!<br />
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My writing has fallen by the wayside. No longer as passionate about writing as I once was, even this blog is lacking in frequency of entries. I'm trying to do better. Yeah, yeah, you've heard that one before. Mother once said, "I wish you would write a book instead of quilting. You can quilt when you get old." I told her, "I am old!" After asking her why she was so anxious for me to write a book, she said, "I want to go with you on a book signing tour!" Then I told her even if I wrote a book and finished it in a month, it might take years before a publisher agreed to publish it, then another year for it to actually hit my doorstep, then I'd have to hire an agent to promote me and set up signings. I told her, "Mom, you'd be dead and gone before that ever happened!" <br />
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She just laughed and said, "If you enjoy quilting then have at it." And I'm almost sure I heard her say as she walked away, "You're not old enough to be quilting."Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-4898023638218615262011-05-27T05:52:00.000-05:002011-05-27T05:52:40.582-05:00Important Announcement!!On May 11, just a couple of weeks ago, I was officially declared cancer free! My oncologist was very excited as he delivered the news to me. It was a bell ringing event, as I walked through the chemo lab to have the needle removed from my life port. The nurses, no - MY nurses, cheered with me, hugged me, and applauded as I rang that bell for the last time!! (I had rung a bell twice before - once in that same chemo lab when I finished my chemo and once in the radation department when I was done with radiation.) I don't think you can ring a bell too many times when it comes to cancer. Every milestone that says, "been there, done that" deserves to be announced by the loud, long, obnoxious, annoying, ringing of a big bell. And now - no more treatments. No more experimental pills. No more days of not being able to get up out of my chair. <br />
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My energy levels are returning. My emotional state is better than it's ever been. I still have days when I feel kinda bad and kinda down. I have told friends I am about 85% back to normal. But normal is on a different scale now. Normal is notched up to a new look on life. It sure feels good to wake up in the mornings knowing I don't have cancer. I always knew and acknowledged that each day is a gift from God. Now I embrace that knowledge with a new fervor and determination to make the most of every day. Embracing each day means I am more aware of my surroundings; of people I know and love; of people I know and <i>try</i> to love; of nature and food and possessions and finances. The list is endless. I have projects to finish and new ones to begin. I have foods to try and recipes to experiment with. I have trips to take and travels to plan. I feel like a new person. Some of the old me is still here. But there's a lot of a new me. Some may notice. Some may not. It matters not who does or doesn't. I'm back. And I'm back in a big way. <br />
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Thank you, Lord, for all of your promises. Isaiah 41:13 "For I am the Lord your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear, I will help you." He does, and He will. Blessed Assurance!Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-88646881010096181512011-04-02T22:36:00.000-05:002011-04-02T22:36:11.623-05:00I'm Not As Timely As I Meant To BeOk, so I lied. I didn't get back to the blog as quickly as I meant to. I've heard people say, "Life got in the way." And that's a true statement. In my case, quilting got in the way, alongside a lot of other things.<br />
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But to the task at hand. I went to the breast cancer support group and found out it wasn't just for breast cancer survivors. There were two women there that are leukemia survivors. We all got to tell our story. We all went through different experiences. We all suffered pain and sickness and heartache and disappointment. But, Praise God, we all are survivors. <br />
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And I believe that's why we go through hard times, bad times, painful times - to Praise God. To bring Glory to God. To be thankful in all things. I Thessalonians 5:16-18: "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." Do you know how hard that is to do? It's easy to give thanks and be thankful when things are going great. But when you're told you have a disease that could take your life, it's mighty hard to say, "Thank you, Lord! That's just what I wanted!" When you're going through painful tests and surgeries it's mighty hard to say, "Thank you, Lord! That's just what I wanted." When you're lying in your chair, so sick from chemotherapy meds they put in your body to kill the cancer and you can't hold your head up or get up to get in the shower, it's mighty hard to say, "Thank you, Lord. That's just what I wanted." Be joyful? Not happening. Pray continually? Maybe, but not in a thankful attitude. More like, "Please, Lord, just let me live through this one more day. Please, Lord, just let me find something I can eat. Please, Lord, let me be able to get up from this chair and move around." And then the one question people say you're not supposed to ask, "Please, Lord. Why me?" Well, why not ask Him that?! He knows you're thinking it anyway. He knows all things about you. He knows what's in your heart. He knows what your future is. He knows the plans he has for you. He knows He plans to give you hope and a future. (You can find that promise in Jeremiah 29:11) So let's just get honest with God and talk to him like the Father he is to us.<br />
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We may not ever know the "why" of anything that happens to us on this earth. But we will know someday. Our job today is to Praise God, to bring him Glory, to thank Him, to tell others about Him.<br />
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Back to the support group - I will be attending again next month. I look forward to meeting some more new friends and sharing the bad times, and good times of cancer and hearing the stories of other survivors. And most of all, I look forward to having the opportunity to tell others what God has done for me.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-43203032119340760532011-03-18T00:21:00.000-05:002011-03-18T00:21:00.351-05:00Moving Down the TunnelThe end of the tunnel is near. You know the one - the one that's dark and scarey and seems to go on forever. You know the one - it is rumored to have a light at the end of it. I think I can see that light!<br />
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Three more herceptin treatments. Two new bottles of the experimental pill, lapatinib. The Herceptin is given to me via lifeport. It is a targeted medicine that destroys the HER-2 protein that was in the cancer and causes it to be very aggressive. Lapatinib is being tested to determine if it helps prohibit the cancer from returning. At the end of this treatment there will be a 6% chance of the cancer returning. Anything under 10% is good. I am very optimistic I will not see another 5 months like I did in 2010. Already 2011 is looking good. <br />
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Today in the chemo lab, I met Amanda. Her mother and I went to high school together. Amanda is a beautiful young woman, mid 30's I think, two daughters, a husband, a newly earned Registered Nurse degree. Amanda has breast cancer. She earned her degree and passed her state boards all while facing the fact she has cancer. She's had the surgeries and lost her hair. She's sick and achey from the chemo. She's very courageous. She will be fine. I look forward to getting to know her better. <br />
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After my treatment today I had lunch at a chinese buffet and stopped into Hobby Lobby. I've always been an evesdropper. Sitting in a restaurant I enjoy overhearing the people at the tables around me. I don't do anything with what I hear or usually repeat it to anyone else. Besides, I don't know those people! Today as I was examining something hanging on the wall at Hobby Lobby, I heard a woman say, "I am on my way to the clinic to get the results of a biopsy that was done on my breast a few days ago." That's all I heard. She continued talking to an acquantance but I don't know what else she said. All I heard was "biopsy - results - today" I moved to her side and touched her hand. She looked at me, puzzled, and I said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to interrupt but I couldn't help hearing that you are going to find out the results of your biopsy today. I just want to tell you that no matter how it turns out, I can tell from the shirt you are wearing, that you will be ok. You will be fine." She looked at me stunned and said, "I hope so. That's what I'm counting on." She should have said, 'that's WHO I'm counting on" For the life of me, I couldn't tell you right now what her shirt said. But it referred to God and something about her faith in him. I would give anything if I knew what her results were. I have thought about her and prayed for her several times today.Don't know her name. Don't know where she lives. Just know she was frightened. <br />
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Talked to Vicki today. She's Mike's niece, the daughter of one of his late sisters. One of the three sisters he had that died of ovarian cancer. Vicki is a breast cancer survivor. She calls to check on me periodically. She goes for her yearly check up next week. She voiced what we survivors all think of - will it come back? That's one of those questions that doesn't have an answer. I refuse to make myself sick worrying over such a question. The possibility exists that it could come back in any and all of us. But I will live each day as a survivor. I will try not to waste time. Time is so precious. We think we will be here forever. But God says in James 4:14, "What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes." Sounds like we're pretty expendable, doesn't it? I want to accomplish a lot of things before my "mist" vanishes. Not necessarily leaving "things" as a legacy because quilts are a nice way to do that and I want everyone I love to have one. Rather, I want to leave this world making a difference in someone else's life. Hopefully, the woman I spoke to at Hobby Lobby today will get some comfort from what I said. Hopefully, if her diagnosis is not what she wanted to hear, she'll find courage. If her diagnosis was exactly what she wanted to hear, maybe she will encourage another woman who is waiting on results of a medical test, too.<br />
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Monday night I am going to a breast cancer support group. It's the first time I've attended a group like this. I'm looking forward to hearing what other women have to say. This "club" I found myself a member of, is not what I would have chosen. But it's what I got. And I'll do my best to help someone else get through it.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-83763401900672567872011-03-14T06:16:00.000-05:002011-03-14T06:16:58.149-05:00Where Have I Been?September? That was the last time I've blogged? That was a long time ago. All those months seem like a blur. Am I really back on my feet? Am I really able to eat again? Am I really only going to the chemo lab once every three weeks? Can you believe I actually miss my chemo nurses?<br />
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Let me backtrack. Mainly for my own benefit. Right after chemotherapy was finished I began radiation. That was a breeze compared to the chemo. Being at the hospital radiation lab every morning before 9 a.m. for six weeks was rather a drag but it wasn't painful and it didn't make me sick. And let me say, the medical personnel in radiation were wonderful, sweet, caring, concerned professionals. I appreciate every one of them. I finished up the treatments on November 1, the day after my birthday. I got home that day and received a phone call from an online fabric source where I order quilting fabric. I had won a $100 gift certificate! Could a day get any better? I had a wonderful birthday, finished radiation and got free quilting fabric! WOW!<br />
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Things were humming right along. My appetite and strength was coming back. So was my hair, slowly. Then almost two full weeks later, on November 12, 2010, I woke up at 4:30 a.m with a knife sharp stabbing pain in my stomach. By 8 a.m. Mike had me in the emergency room and I was being examined. This was a pain I'd never experienced before. I couldn't do anything but bend over double. Making a long story short, after the CAT scan, I was told my intestines had twisted. The surgeon wanted to operate as soon as possible. I was admitted and placed on the oncology floor, since I was a cancer patient, too, and to keep the chances down of my catching an infection of some/any sort. So on Saturday morning, the 13th I was taken to surgery where I had 18" of my colon removed. What??? Yep, and it had nothing to do with the cancer or treatments. I was unable to eat or swallow anything until the doctor was sure my colon was functioning properly again. On Wednesday, November 17, I was finally able to eat again. I had existed on ice chips and huge bags of IV "stuff". Oh, the pain meds weren't bad either. The first food I'd had in 6 days was artificial scrambled eggs and jello. Best tasting food I'd had in months! <br />
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Mike came to the hospital every day and spent the night with me every night but the first one. I recovered quite quickly, or I thought so, and was able to come home on Thursday morning. After having been up and about and beginning to get back on my feet from the chemo and radiation, I found myself once again glued to my recliner. About another four weeks of down time and I was pretty much good to go again. There were a lot of medicines I had to take, a lot of medicines I had to quit taking, and dressing wounds three times a day.<br />
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I shall pause for now and post another chapter in this journey later today or this week. Thank you, Lord, for your Love and Grace and Healing.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-49324509305261765752010-09-17T02:55:00.000-05:002010-09-17T02:55:10.680-05:00It's Not So Bad. WHAT???As you can tell, it's been a while since I posted a new entry to my blog. Chemo has been knocking me on my butt. I don't usually use that word in print but it's the only word that fits. I have been told the cumulative effects of the drugs are building up and it takes longer to recover from each treatment.<br />
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Well, the treatments are over. It's been two weeks ago today. And I must believe the above statement. Not only do I still have an almost zero appetite, but one of the drugs is eating the much needed, necessary potassium and magnesium my body needs to function. I have spent two to three days a week in the chemo lab getting four to five hour bags of these chemicals. That is in addition to taking liquid and supplemental pills at home twice a day. Without the proper levels of these minerals, my little ole heart could malfunction, among other things happening. It gets irritating spending all my days hooked up to an IV pole, but I keep seeing the benefits of it waaay down at the end of that long corridor called "Cancer Free." <br />
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The journey has been hard this hard summer and it's not over yet. But when I sit back and reflect on the good that has come from this - yes, that's what I said, "good," I can <em>almost</em> make them outweigh the bad, the uncomfortable, the unpleasant, the inconvenience, the sadness. <br />
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Allow me the freedom to elaborate:<br />
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Professionals who have taken care of me and make me feel as if I'm the most important person in the room. Strangers who have become friends from encounters day after day or week after week in the chemo lab. Even the regular morning workers at the fast food place I frequently patronize when I have an appetite and can drink a glass of sweet tea and eat a hash brown patty. Getting to know the families of people I see everyday that I didn't know six months ago. Mail and cards from friends and some people I have never met that have grown into a huge stack I shall treasure for a long time. Random emails and phone calls from loved ones. Customers from our plumbing business that send word by our employees that they are praying for me. Food dropped off by friends and church members. People I have never met face to face whom I met on the Webkinz for Momz page who became Facebook friends and constantly comment on my posts on Facebook and have sent me home made prayer shawls and lovely sewing accessories for my quilting room. And this is just to touch on the "good" that has come from this dreadful summer of cancer and chemo. <br />
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I cannot forget my Lord and Savior, who has comforted me when I cried, calmed me when I panicked, soothed me when I crashed in tears and self pity, and reassured me He is here. He is close. He is holding me. He knows all about it. <br />
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Compared to the bad - - the bad could be a lot worse. I have a good prognosis. I have a huge support base. I am trying to keep my sense of humor. I have Mike, the boys, the girls, the grandkids, the sisters, the Mama, the in-laws, I'll go to bed now. <br />
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Thank you, Jesus.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-82617201343322876522010-07-18T16:09:00.000-05:002010-07-18T16:09:43.087-05:00A Letter to Mom (but yall can read it)July 18, 2010<br />
Dear Mom,<br />
<br />
I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate all the things you did for me yesterday. You came early on a Saturday, washed my laundry, dried my laundry, folded my laundry, hung my laundry in my messy messy closet, and followed my directions as I bossed you around all day. When I told you I needed to sit down, you sat with me. You brought me water or koolaid to drink, medicine to swallow, popsicles to eat, and read your book while I napped. You put the cat out because he really gets on my nerves right now and you helped me take my quilt wall down, pack it all in the bag and store it for a later time. <br />
<br />
The things I described in the above paragraph took just a few hours of your time. This is not even a drop in the bucket of the minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years of the things you have done for me and the time you have spent on me. When I think of lesson after lesson, taught either by example or lecture, and if I were to try to list all of them in ABC order, the bookshelves I have in my home would not begin to hold the volumes of information they would contain. Lessons that always had their basic roots in the Word of God; in the example of the life of Jesus. Basic common sense sayings that were part of our everyday life; "Pretty is as pretty does." "Always greet people with a smile and call their name." "If you shake hands, use a firm grip." (yes, this applies to girls, too!) "Give the elder person your chair." "Always say 'yes/no ma'am' or 'sir' no matter the age of the person." "Always tell your hostess your enjoyed your meal." "When you're a guest in someone's home, leave things the way you found them (and sometimes it might not hurt to leave them better!)" And the ever popular "Honesty is the best policy."<br />
<br />
When I was a child, you made my clothes even though you admit you never learned to properly tie one of those big old fancy bows on the back of the dresses. I didn't know it. I just knew my dresses were cute, and starched and pressed and usually had some kind of rick rack on the hem! As I became a teenager and the hip hugger skirts and bell bottom pants were popular, I was so much smaller than my teen friends, we couldn't buy clothes in those styles so out came the sewing machine again! It's hard to make hip hugger skirts for a broomstick figure but you managed. But the biggest sewing project I will never forget was my wedding dress. With a two weeks notice before our wedding, you and Aunt Pat set up two machines in the living room. After you had worked all day in <em>a sewing factory</em> you made my wedding dress and two bridesmaid's dresses. And this was all in December right before Christmas. <br />
<br />
So many times I have failed to say thank you. So many times I have failed to tell you how much I appreciate you and all you've done. And so many times I have failed to just say, "I love you." So I shall say it now - Thank you, I appreciate all you do for me. I love you. <br />
<br />
Love, Rhonda<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISv62NmcusSK3e87M4VV-CHuJBF2oes64PFpWK4rcN2ZkU_lvZtDB0rnpIY7ykOacus0T3rIx7coliGEiDfNWzOQ7wx6v7kDMpiCGj0hJ8ymyQXX4C0lNavmcWpfyxzH1Lhob-X72O1I/s1600/Mom+and+me+at+the+biltomre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhISv62NmcusSK3e87M4VV-CHuJBF2oes64PFpWK4rcN2ZkU_lvZtDB0rnpIY7ykOacus0T3rIx7coliGEiDfNWzOQ7wx6v7kDMpiCGj0hJ8ymyQXX4C0lNavmcWpfyxzH1Lhob-X72O1I/s320/Mom+and+me+at+the+biltomre.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-58161422220693649162010-06-30T22:46:00.000-05:002010-06-30T22:46:32.573-05:00Vacation or StayCation?Everybody's talking about vacation. Should they go to the beach - what about the tar balls? Should they go to the mountains? Should they find a cheap cruise? Not many are wanting to stay home. But that's exactly what I decided to do for vacation this year.<br />
<br />
I'm wearing my big ole sunbonnet, I've got my little cup full of ice and cherry koolaid and a straw. My embroidery is by my side, my laptop within reach, remote control for the TV, and a lovely assortment of pill bottles at my fingertips.<br />
<br />
I shall close my eyes and, via my recliner, travel anywhere my mind wants to take me. If I have to rush to the bathroom, I'll just pretend I came in from a tour of the Mayan Ruins and drank the water by mistake. If I feel a little short of breath it's because I just climbed a trail at Clingman's Dome. The rash on my face - let's see, I had a reaction from eating too much lobster tail at the midnight buffet on the Alaskan cruise. Strawberry yogurt, which has become my daily breakfast, is now a strawberry mousse swirled with fresh berries in a crystal parfait glass served to me while staying at a bed and breakfast in Colorado Springs. The occasional cup of hot tea I enjoy comes from high tea at the Biltmore Estate and is stirred with rock sugar sticks. I just wish I could imagine something that would be a substitute for the smoked salmon bites in puff pastry with dill sauce that would accompany that hot tea.<br />
<br />
The way I've got it calculated, by Thanksgiving my appetite should be back to normal. The chemo will be over, all the bad symptoms should have subsided and things should be looking like they looked last Thanksgiving. A shorter hairstyle, a few pounds lighter, and a new outlook on life with a bright future will be very welcome into my home, heart, and head. <br />
<br />
This week I read an article by John Piper, who was just diagnosed with prostate cancer. He says I shouldn't waste my cancer. That sounded odd to me but you can read this at <a href="http://www.desiringgod.org/">http://www.desiringgod.org/</a>. Rather than explain all this to you, I shall quote <em>"My God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 4:19).</em><br />
Bon Voyage!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhDPxSQjd5ieE16fwNA5LV3SA8mowf_b8rkPYOdkJeVPP8Vej3R9AvYB8CPDgGoDp9yONsX90y7_oDGO7NgG4COOE8TMhGAwa9PGEpqRd4PcjeNiFnuNKUsYGq8o0yVrrO-qJsrYR3Aw/s1600/Glacier+Walk.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhDPxSQjd5ieE16fwNA5LV3SA8mowf_b8rkPYOdkJeVPP8Vej3R9AvYB8CPDgGoDp9yONsX90y7_oDGO7NgG4COOE8TMhGAwa9PGEpqRd4PcjeNiFnuNKUsYGq8o0yVrrO-qJsrYR3Aw/s320/Glacier+Walk.bmp" /></a></div>Here we are walking on a glacier in Alaska in 2001. Gee, that was nine years ago. A trip we'll never forget. <br />
Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-25314766019658024432010-06-25T19:04:00.001-05:002010-06-25T19:04:38.320-05:00Off With Her Hair!Today is the first day I think I have something to say about it. It's been 5 days since it happened. I kept putting it off and the time didn't seem right and I didn't feel like sitting up that long and it was too hot to sit outside and mixed signals with my hairdresser caused me to miss her and oh, I don't know, there are a lot more reasons. I think the thing that made me decide it was time was finding hair falling from my head into what little food I have been able to eat. That was too much. My stomach was too weak to handle that. Time to cut the hair off.<br />
<br />
Libby and her sweet daughter in law, Mallory, were stopping in to see me Monday and I asked her if she'd buzz cut my head. She said she'd be glad to do that for me. Sis in law, Pat, came over and I sat in the kitchen with a towel draped around my shoulders and Lib started the clippers. Off it came, falling in little strips and there wasn't much of it. The picture Travis took was awful. Awful!! I looked at it and started crying. But only for a second. <br />
<br />
I knew it was going to happen. I knew if I took matters into my own hand and cut my hair off before the chemo got it all, then psychologically I had more control over my body than the cancer and chemo. But you know what? That's just a ploy. The hair is gone. The cancer and the chemo caused it and it's gonna stay gone for a long time. "It's just hair. It'll grow back. You have a great looking head." <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Ok</span>, whatever. You may be right. I've said it myself to gals going through this. But until you've been there and seen that hair you paid to have colored and highlighted hitting the floor - - you can't know how it feels. I've had that hair since I was two years old! Yeah, I was bald until then. Kinda makes me feel like I'm starting over but with a lot more baggage and body.<br />
<br />
The picture I said was awful ended up being a good source of laughter. I <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">texted</span> the picture to Hunter and he showed it to the boys. Eleven year old Andrew got very quiet looking at it and nine year old Christian almost started crying. Then Hunter found four year old Jon Carter, who was bouncing on the bed just doing his four year old thing, and when he looked at it he stopped, stared, and asked, "Who is that old man?" (See, I told you it was an awful picture!!) Hunter said, "That's not an old man, that's <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Granna</span>!" He said, "Oh," and went back to bouncing on the bed. Kinda put things back into perspective for me. <br />
<br />
So now I've got my radar on for caps, hats, scarves, decorations for a bald head. Simplicity is the key for me. And inexpensive; <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">ok</span> cheap. Cheap means I can have more options. Maybe soon I'll post a picture of some of my head gear. But today, I think I'll keep this look to myself.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-51266253554386215772010-06-21T22:02:00.000-05:002010-06-21T22:02:01.288-05:00Lisa aka YaYa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIfcmTEvEdSOwjWb0J3gWBgkL_Q1ABtspnLb5Ews0U56Z4DMfyjZtnnPaZZ838owZaMCvKcvGIHMAP-0XKj2dTrSfcQw4nPcrIZJe8xrGyNj2x8N5Yj7zjhnDzzlsW-Ta4PZAJ9pNQNU/s1600/TrailerPic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzIfcmTEvEdSOwjWb0J3gWBgkL_Q1ABtspnLb5Ews0U56Z4DMfyjZtnnPaZZ838owZaMCvKcvGIHMAP-0XKj2dTrSfcQw4nPcrIZJe8xrGyNj2x8N5Yj7zjhnDzzlsW-Ta4PZAJ9pNQNU/s320/TrailerPic.jpg" /></a></div>Being eight and a half years older than your baby sister tends to lead to babysitting. After Lisa got a little older, that is. She spent a lot of time in a playpen in the yard under a tree. We thought she was so cute and she was. When she was about 10 months old she got sick, very sick. She ended up in a hospital in a distant town suffering from dehydration. The hospital rules in 1962 said no one could stay with her through the night, so Dad and Mom had to come home without "our" baby. After a three day stay, she was as good as new. Maybe even better. When she got the mumps, I was the one that got to stay home from church with her.<br />
<br />
Oh I forgot to tell you, Lisa was born on Dad's birthday, too. She was the darling of the nursery at church. The pianist at church was getting married and asked Lisa, and the pastor's daughter, Leeann, to be her flower girls. Lisa's hair was about shoulder length but Leeanne's was much longer. Somehow, they got left unattended in the Sunday School room just long enough for Leeanne to give Lisa a very nice haircut. Lisa was just about to return the favor when someone walked in and stopped her. The wedding pictures still turned out very nice, after an emergency trip to the beauty shop.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVXp1w84yJLRolTTzzGQb3bj31y6AWVggwyfJ8xnoM5BVNRghyKoVFv5AcNj3LrYmRvMCL-MglQ3mEUDSwxszg4QmmNWseqfVQRJJrXprOIym7_Lyvxw68PMNmeIyurjebwmpbTy8Ivk/s1600/Lisa+get%27s+capped.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkVXp1w84yJLRolTTzzGQb3bj31y6AWVggwyfJ8xnoM5BVNRghyKoVFv5AcNj3LrYmRvMCL-MglQ3mEUDSwxszg4QmmNWseqfVQRJJrXprOIym7_Lyvxw68PMNmeIyurjebwmpbTy8Ivk/s320/Lisa+get%27s+capped.bmp" /></a></div>Before she graduated from high school, she baby sat my two sons for a few months. One of the boys would get into her chap stick and bite the end out of it. She loved when that happened. That same son couldn't say her name and it came out as Ya Ya. We still call her that sometimes. Lisa graduated from high school and went to nursing school. She became an LPN and after few years became a Certified Cardiovascular Technologist. When she began working in the heart cath lab she would spend nights at our house when she was on call. The very first night, I had to wake her to go to an emergency. When she got her own apartment, she'd still come spend the nights with us during bad weather. She is a very dedicated, compassionate, caring person. With everyone, always, not just with her nursing.<br />
She married and had my only niece. She is no longer nursing but is now the owner of a clothing store and I get to go with her to market to pick out the clothes she sells! We talk every day, if not on the phone, via email in which our sister Libby is included. It's like an all day conversation. She still is our source of medical information.<br />
<br />
Lisa is my biggest prayer warrior. She's has never been in a car wreck with me, thank goodness. We drive a lot alike. She's my bestest shopping buddy, likes sushi, gourmet coffee, dogs, listens to me cry, and makes me laugh so hard sometimes I can't breath. She can cook, sing, and puts together a mean scrapbook. <br />
<br />
Some folks are fortunate to have a sister. I'm more than blessed to have two! And I get to be the oldest and the bossiest. Libby and Lisa won't let me forget that, either. Doesn't mean I always get my way, but it's my job as the oldest to try! <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1T8OlguiRSP-w82ARctS7fQfoqlq1g23_iZvLcXlLEzPsu5o9q9uQ7RoYm9qH3MP2qQrd2TtrZKj8bb539TMnK9fD68Rt8RmyEm-Xky2D4kE1Mn6DJIWd0tA9RelAZqen4Y67pzicGkc/s1600/Three+girls.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" ru="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1T8OlguiRSP-w82ARctS7fQfoqlq1g23_iZvLcXlLEzPsu5o9q9uQ7RoYm9qH3MP2qQrd2TtrZKj8bb539TMnK9fD68Rt8RmyEm-Xky2D4kE1Mn6DJIWd0tA9RelAZqen4Y67pzicGkc/s320/Three+girls.jpg" /></a></div> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-3507066832169679422010-06-11T18:48:00.000-05:002010-06-11T18:48:32.349-05:00Sun Pants<strong><em>What did the big elephant say to the little elephant?</em></strong><br />
<strong><em>Sun Pants!</em></strong><br />
<br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFpFhe5In9S-yrrPoUQSLCo-rn30X_c8cFMuSP6_czocEoyjhK2uYlCQSKL681Wy1VD50pmHyu5YhuENCy8kJ1W9_0dNIRSmrIBGO26D1kZHfNcXEpwQPMM47Oqq8gqJTfoRrwZdlHcA/s1600/Me+and+Lib+at+the+St.+Louis+Zoo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFpFhe5In9S-yrrPoUQSLCo-rn30X_c8cFMuSP6_czocEoyjhK2uYlCQSKL681Wy1VD50pmHyu5YhuENCy8kJ1W9_0dNIRSmrIBGO26D1kZHfNcXEpwQPMM47Oqq8gqJTfoRrwZdlHcA/s320/Me+and+Lib+at+the+St.+Louis+Zoo.jpg" /></a>That requires an explanation. Years ago, I was probably ten years old or less, our family was sitting around the supper table telling jokes. Dad, Mom, me, Libby, Uncle Ray <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">Crouse</span> - Dad's younger brother -, probably Lisa as a little bitty baby. Daddy and Ray would bring home jokes from the construction job and we'd laugh and laugh. Libby decided she knew a joke and she was going to tell it. She was about seven or eight. So she posed the above riddle question and evidently realized she had no answer so she made one up. It made no sense which made it all the more funny. We all rolled and she was pleased as punch that she'd told a joke.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvyeDoynwLMeqLoV7TZujaO4JV_oc72phHZV7mL9PY-yJcLq91hfuNIbRzzQkMzEFYe9tpOKgPAmcx4AKoyQqfvV2rxVIF1-NrXQVLav0YjoGleo5PQ9ygvjWVhIb5SvT6NdhqLWKoywI/s1600/Lib+Grad.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" qu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvyeDoynwLMeqLoV7TZujaO4JV_oc72phHZV7mL9PY-yJcLq91hfuNIbRzzQkMzEFYe9tpOKgPAmcx4AKoyQqfvV2rxVIF1-NrXQVLav0YjoGleo5PQ9ygvjWVhIb5SvT6NdhqLWKoywI/s320/Lib+Grad.bmp" /></a></div>This is the same sister that would tear up my paper dolls so I played with them in the huge claw footed bathtub without any water, of course, because she couldn't reach them. This is the same sister that shared a bed with me till Lisa was big enough to leave a crib and let me as a young teen have my own room. Then Lisa bunked with her. The same sister that tagged along with me, trying to be a <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">teena</span><span class="goog-spellcheck-word">ger</span> and who at the same time liked hanging out with the younger Lisa still playing dolls and coloring. The same sister that was with me in the car when I had my first wreck and neither of us was hurt. The same sister that at one time was all elbows, knees, feet and teeth who blossomed out one summer to become a tall, slim, curvy beauty with a beautiful smile and hair past her shoulders, straight and pretty in that late 60's and early 70's style of no curls and no frizz. Old enough to not let Mom cut her bangs anymore! The same sister that was an attendant at my wedding and mad at my new husband for taking her sister away. The same sister that asked me to be her Maid of Honor at her wedding and who loved my two boys as much as I loved her one. She's still my confidant, secret keeper, and biggest cheerleader. The same sister that took off work yesterday to spend the day with me in a cold, boring, chemo lab, watching a movie on a portable DVD player that we could hardly see, listening through ear buds, and brought me a BLT for lunch from the cafeteria. <br />
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This is Libby, the sister that I love and cherish. I can not imagine my life without her in it and a being a big part of it. How do women survive without sisters? I couldn't survive without mine. Next, you will hear about my baby sister, Lisa. I'll have to recover from this post first. :)Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-51396443245425895382010-06-07T20:23:00.000-05:002010-06-07T20:23:33.051-05:00My AngelsWell, it's been a while. It's hard to think about writing when all you can do is sit in the recliner and try not to stay bent over the toilet. That's pretty graphic but that's the way it's been. I'm about halfway recovering from the first big round and it's time to go back again Thursday.<br />
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While I'm talking about that, let me talk about the nurses in the chemo lab. Angels. Every one of them. They are so smart! They can answer any question, they know just what to do in any situation, they are interested in how I feel, what I feel, and why I feel. They interact with each other in such a manner, I get the feeling they can't wait to come to work every day. They tease each other, they encourage each other, they "sweetheart", "honey", "darling" each other. Anything to make me comfortable, in what they do for me and what they do for each other. <br />
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My clinical research nurse is a very special lady, too. She answers my emails within just a few minutes, she asks me questions to find out what I'm feeling, she passes my information along to the oncologist and his assistants and gives me prompt directions. It seems as if her goal is to keep me as comfortable as possible during this time. And she's doing a great job. I feel very cared for, very loved, and in very good hands.<br />
<br />
And after saying all that, I'm not going to complain about the way I feel. At least not anymore tonight. Psalm 91:11: "For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;" Farfetched? Maybe not.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-68999541220604319682010-05-30T09:46:00.000-05:002010-05-30T09:46:02.620-05:00Is This Cancer Inherited?Questions, thousands of questions. Where does cancer come from? Why do some get it? Why do some get certain kinds? Why? Most of those questions are unanswerable. Research is discovering more and more answers to others.<br />
<br />
Shortly after Dad died from pancreatic cancer in 2006, I was talking to my gynecologist at my yearly exam, telling her about Dad and his brothers and sisters that died from other forms of cancer. She immediately asked if I'd be willing to talk to a genetic counselor about familial cancers. I agreed. Before long I had an appointment at the West Clinic in Memphis and talked to Eric. After getting a detailed history of what I knew about the aunts and uncles he began to explain how genetic mutation works. Suffice it to say, he suspected there may have been a mutation in my family. He recommended a test on Uncle Butch, because he is a breast cancer survivor. Yes, that's right, Uncle Butch and Uncle Ray - both breast cancer survivors. Aunts Jessie and Elma both died of ovarian cancer and Uncle Tommy of liver cancer. <br />
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After bribing Uncle Butch with a free ride to Memphis and a free lunch, he agreed to accompany me and give them a tube of his blood. (He's such a pushover!) In a few days his results came back positive for BRCA2. That stands for <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">BReast</span> <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">CAncer</span> 2 - a gene mutation that can be passed down that causes breast, ovarian, prostate, pancreatic, melanoma, gall bladder, lymphoma types of cancers. Sound familiar? I gave my sample of blood and I was negative!! The chances of contracting any of these forms of cancer WITH the gene mutation bumps a person to 80%. Without the mutation, I was at the 10% risk of the general population. My sister, Libby, was tested and she, too, was negative.<br />
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I did not think, after this test, that I would never get cancer but I sure was floored when I did. Even the surgeon that did the biopsy on the very small tumor that showed up in an ultrasound, was surprised. My first cousin, Kathy, was diagnosed with breast cancer about three weeks before I was. She too, tested negative for BRCA2. So what's up with this? She sees the same genetic counselor as I and they are running more tests on her blood sample. This may tell both of us about another type of mutation. Research on this subject is moving full steam ahead but there are still things to be discovered. <br />
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I will write more on this in later posts but for now, I am trying to hang in there with this chemo. There are several variables in my treatments and again I will tell more about that later. This verse means a lot to me this morning: Hebrews 13:15 - 16, "Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise - the fruit of his lips that openly profess his name. And do not forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is pleased."Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-27840435991853361722010-05-25T17:08:00.000-05:002010-05-25T17:08:57.645-05:00The Bad Day Has ArrivedWhen I decided to write this blog, I decided it wasn't all going to be about breast cancer. I have more identity than breast cancer. However, today it will be about the side effects of chemo That is, after all, part of the title.<br />
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Taking steroid pills the day before, of, and after chemo treatment is a good thing. Until they begin to wear off. Sunday morning, I just wasn't able to get up to go to church. I sat in my chair all day. I did some embroidery, I watched the Andy Griffin marathon, I played on the computer. Mostly, I sat. And tried to get up energy to get up. But the energy was not there. Sunday night, I slept pretty good. Monday morning, I was washed out. Took a shower and put on make up, styled my hair but laid right back down and didn't get up. Not even able to embroider. Today, was just horrible. Until about 2 p.m. I was napping and when I woke up I felt a little better. Still haven't been able to eat much. And drinking fluids is so very important but trying to swallow is hard. I keep plugging away at it, but it's just not fun.<br />
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Mike brought me some <span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: yellow;">popsicles</span> and I ate part of a baked potato a few minutes ago. Cantaloupe tasted really good today. When people talked about feeling bad from chemo, I had no idea how bad that was. And I'm sure my experience is not near as bad as some others. <br />
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Friends have encouraged me to blog. And that's what I'm doing. So you get to hear all the bad things and the good things. And if I can help someone else through this somewhere down the road, I'll be glad. There may not be a lot of mind boggling revelations or high and inspired spiritual truths, b<span class="goog-spellcheck-word" style="background: yellow;">ut</span> this is me. And me is what you get.<br />
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I cannot close today without telling where my strength comes from. "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isiah 41:10 Even though sometimes I may not display that confidence outwardly, deep down I know Who's in control.Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-76400437516865164782010-05-22T21:03:00.000-05:002010-05-22T21:03:32.765-05:00It's a Good Day<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So, today was the annual Red Neck Safari at the farm. Hunter's Sunday school class/church/friends have been coming in May for about five years now. These wonderful, sweet, loving people show up with smiles, food, four wheelers and various forms of transportation designed to run through mud, over logs, and climb hills. The day is spent doing what the machines are designed to do. Then - then - they all gather back at the cabin for a fish fry!! Mike and I and others that are willing to pitch in and help cook and serve, dish up platters of fish, hush puppies, french fries, slaw, all the trimmings and we all eat till we can't move. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Today was the first time I have not been able to jump in and entertain and socialize and have the fun I usually have. Everyone was very understanding and helpful. But it was not the same experience for me. I am having to face the fact that this cancer and the treatments are going to slow me down a little. A little today. Maybe more tomorrow, or next week, or next month. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I was assured and told over and over that I was being prayed for, that I was on prayer lists at the various churches. That means so much to me and I thank every one that has approached The Throne on my behalf. Two Godly men layed hands on me and prayed for me today, standing in the backyard, unashamedly in front of God, nature and all those sitting in lawnchairs praying along.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Friends, family, food, faith. That makes a good day. Cancer or not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I Peter 5:6-7 "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you."</span>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-7822593234477252442010-05-20T22:02:00.000-05:002010-05-20T22:02:45.836-05:00First Day of Chemo<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Mike, Mom, and I arrived at the clinic at 8:50 a.m. My clinical research nurse went over some things with me and then I went to the chemotherapy room to get "chemo'd", I guess you could say. I had drips that were supposed to keep me from getting nauseus. Then a drip of Taxotere, then Carboplatin, then Benadryl, then Herceptin. In addition to these drugs, I began taking the clinical trial drug, Lapatinib in pill form.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I am very pleased to report, I had no adverse reactions to any of these drugs. No itching, no chemical taste in my mouth, no drop in blood pressure or oxygen saturation. I sipped on white grape juice, ate peanut butter and crackers, even got in a few small bites of candy bars! Didn't get dizzy walking to the bathroom, enjoyed meeting all the nurses, did a little embroidery, started reading a new book, began listening to a new book on my ipod, played on the Nintendo DS Game Boy, taught Mike how to play a game on it and he took it away from me and played with it, got a cool little goody bag from the nurses, covered up with my Chemo Kalaidoscope quilt, and just got some rest. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">I go back tomorrow for a shot of Neulasta that will help keep my white blood cell count from getting too low. It has side effects as do all the above drugs I took by IV today. But they might not show up until about Sunday. As for today, I am enjoying the energy I have. I am praising God for the good day I had. I am thanking God for all the medical professionals that are in my life right now. And I am thanking him constantly for all the family and friends I have that are praying for me and wishing me well and letting me know that they love me - every day. It brings to mind a scripture. Philipppians 1:3-4 "I thank my God every time I remember you. In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy - -".</span>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-74239816046550700032010-05-18T18:54:00.006-05:002010-05-18T20:44:31.414-05:00It Will Begin Soon<div><font size="2" face="georgia">I have opted to participate in a clinical trial while undergoing my chemotherapy. A clinical trial is a research study that tests how well new medicines work in people. The main purpose of this trial is to determine if this particular medicine is effective in preventing cancer from returning and in extending survival in patients with HER2-positive breast cancer. (That's straight from the brochure) </font></div>
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<br /><div><font size="2" face="georgia">Let me back up. In HER2 positive (+) breast cancer, the tumor cells have too much HER2 protein on their surface. This protein makes tumors able to grow and spread quickly, and can make them less likely to respond to some cancer treatments and more likely to recur after treatment. I will be helping to determine why some drugs, alone or in conjunction with another drug, work differently in some women. </font></div>
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<br /><div><font size="2" face="georgia">My tumor was tested to be HER2+ in addition to being positive for estrogen and progesterone. That makes a triple positive. That makes a scary kind of cancer. That makes ME determined to find out all I can about it and to treat it as aggressively as possible. The tumor was removed with negative margins (they got it all), no lymph node involvement, and no suspicion of it being anywhere else in my body. Because of the HER2+ thingy, let's just be on the safe side. Ok? Ok.</font></div>
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<br /><div><font size="2" face="georgia">I will possibly be helping save the lives of women diagnosed with breast cancer in the near future. These women could be my sisters, daughters in law, granddaughter, nieces, or my friends. Or it could be you. Or <em>your</em> loved ones. Or <em>your</em> friends. </font></div>
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<br /><div><font size="2" face="georgia">I realize there's a lot of scientific jargon in this post. I have learned a lot of words, phrases, and terms that, 4 months ago I would never have dreamed I would know. I am getting something akin to a "junior medical degree." Personal experience and involvement tends to make one sort of an expert. I said that, tongue in cheek, to say this: everyone's breast cancer is different. Everyone must do what is best for them, based on research, open conversation with doctors and medical professionals and people who have been through the same thing. And prayer, lots of prayer. </font></div>
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<br /><div><font size="2" face="georgia">Chemotherapy should begin later this week. It's a scary thing. And I dread it. I really really dread it. I have decided I will spend one long, hot, bald summer going through chemotherapy in exchange for twenty more good summers. However, I must remember that "Many are the plans in a man's heart, but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails." Proverbs 19:21.</font></div>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-72225114198235181712010-05-15T22:02:00.003-05:002010-05-16T07:40:07.621-05:00Relay for Life<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqH1hDGfkrEvtAijAOT2byeWPLdz1mjfU9WJQY8QrfRMfxxAG5nGQbH5H2SXamlKwtoy3ugbVVBfVRj90aEVCeTgpLq4g0I35GGw_-Gq58Qvd9guCdr-GjZKaZfXpwIWX9bCYeC4JbTuQ/s1600/001.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471846445825998322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqH1hDGfkrEvtAijAOT2byeWPLdz1mjfU9WJQY8QrfRMfxxAG5nGQbH5H2SXamlKwtoy3ugbVVBfVRj90aEVCeTgpLq4g0I35GGw_-Gq58Qvd9guCdr-GjZKaZfXpwIWX9bCYeC4JbTuQ/s320/001.JPG" /></a><br /><div>Relay for Life, the nationwide fundraiser of the American Cancer Society, is an awesome event. In the years past, it was out there, raising money for cancer research. I thought it was a good thing. But it became much more to me in 2006. My Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in April. In May, he walked the survivor lap at Relay for Life. Less than six months later, he passed away. Pancreatic cancer is a bad old cancer. The next year's relay was pretty hard. We watched two of Dad's brother, both breast cancer survivors, walk the survivor lap. </div><br /><div></div><br /><div>This year, I walked the survivor's lap with my daughter in law, Mandy - she had melanoma, and Mike's niece, Michelle - a 5 year breast cancer survivor. Mike walked with us. He is now considered my caregiver. This year, I can be considered a survivor. As we walked, the people of the businesses and organizations that had raised money all year, were standing on the sidelines applauding us. I felt unworthy because my fight hasn't really begun yet. I was just diagnosed two months ago. The tumor is gone following surgery but my treatments haven't begun yet. Some of the people there have fought a long, hard, difficult, battle with various forms of cancer. Some are still fighting, waiting to be declared, "Cancer Free!" I'll be glad to hear those words, too, applied to me. Hopefully, I'll hear them for many more years.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Next week end I'll walk another survivor's lap, at another Relay for Life event. This time with my two uncles. And I'm sure it will be much more difficult. Dad has been gone for 3 1/2 years. I still miss him every day. We cancer patients/survivors, are fighters. We keep going. We keep running the race. There is a prize at the end of this race. First, hopefully, a cure. Second - "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenword in Christ Jesus." Phil. 3:14. Either way, it's a win/win situation.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5495537920393119078.post-89716974122131710472010-05-14T06:49:00.008-05:002010-05-14T15:59:37.682-05:00This one is Mine!!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5tcpuvkLxVrKpSGSp2c6DdZzi8vt7oYMQNZWZmEeFxnPFqA2C8nuZ_fuFuXuKtuaxG9GpfphzbfBmRnTNY1CH5RNnT3M9oK4nVJr43q8-9-qnb5iWKZ01Gu1q7Fldmkr5obZp_AHZ9U/s1600/004.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 240px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5471233181709151922" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq5tcpuvkLxVrKpSGSp2c6DdZzi8vt7oYMQNZWZmEeFxnPFqA2C8nuZ_fuFuXuKtuaxG9GpfphzbfBmRnTNY1CH5RNnT3M9oK4nVJr43q8-9-qnb5iWKZ01Gu1q7Fldmkr5obZp_AHZ9U/s320/004.JPG" /></a><br /><div>I finished a quilt last night! The Christmas before last I made a quilt for all five grandchildren. Even though only one was ready at Christmas. The others were done before March. Last Christmas I made quilts for Mom, two sisters, two daughters in law, one niece. I was determined to have them done on time. And they were - all wrapped up and under the Christmas tree. This Christmas quilts will be made and presented to Mike, two sons, two brothers in law and a nephew. I have one of those "guy" quilts ready to go to the quilter. I've got another half finished.<br /><br />But last night, I cut the last thread on a quilt that is mine! It's only the second one I made for myself. This quilt has a special task assigned to it. It will go with me when I take my chemo treatments. It's very cold in that room and I've been told I'll want something to cover up with. Of course, the clinic has warmed blankets that would work just fine. But I want something personal to me. Thus, my own quilt. It will remind me of all I need to accomplish before Christmas this year. It will give me strength to get through this rough patch in my life. It will give me comfort as I sit for a long time in a room I hoped I'd never have to see again. Dad took some treatments in that room four years ago this month.<br /><br />As I let this quilt be my comfort, it will remind me of another Comforter, the One Jesus promised. "But the Counselor (Comforter), the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you," John 14:26. I can't think of anything better to ponder on.</div>Rhondahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17097847558695011682noreply@blogger.com2