Today went by more quickly than I thought it would. I kept thinking this was the last day that I could accomplish much, since I would be recovering from surgery. I cleaned, did laundry, went for a walk with friends, shopped a little, and even detailed my car. Quite a productive day. It’s now almost nine o’clock and it’s time I should go to bed since I have to wake up at 3:45.

(I took this picture today of a beautiful blooming cactus in Kip’s cactus garden.)

I got a little discouraged after I slowed down and it dawned on me that, yes, tomorrow’s appointments will give us the answers to some of our questions and the surgery will be scheduled, but I may not actually be starting the process of the surgery and the healing…and whatever comes afterwards, for weeks. That’s a real bummer. It’s a weird feeling to walk around feeling pretty good, but knowing there is cancer growing in my body. There is an automatic built-in sense of urgency for the not so patient, patient.

I may have to do more laundry and clean the house, and change the sheets again before operation, operation takes place. We have been dealing with all of this since I got the colon cancer phone call on January 15th. My prayer worriers have been hanging in there all this time, and I’m very thankful for that.

I know I can get through whatever I need to and I have to remember that Kip is going through it, too. He’s been great, but it can’t be easy.

(I purchased this canvas wall hanging when I was resale shopping, today. It will look great in my she shed. Our lot came with a shed in the back yard that I have confiscated for my “Home for Beasterhops.”

Forgive my rambling. I appreciate being able to do that with some people I have grown to know and love through this blog.

I want to say a big thank you to my daughter-in-law, Amy, for the Breast Cancer Bible. Amy is a nurse and knows it will help me anticipate what comes next and to ask the right questions.

I’ll keep you posted…

Hugs are not for sissies. There are rules you need to know. It’s not the way it used to be many years ago.

I learned the rules the hard way, though I still don’t know them all. I’m here to help you hug right, so wrong hugs aren’t your downfall.

I saw a friend walk towards me, and I struck a huggers pose. He saw my arms wide open, and suddenly he froze!

It was an awkward moment. A situation to appraise. Should he walk into my waiting arms, or approach me from sideways?

(My cousin, Mark and me…the sideways hug.)

(Another sideways hug.)

Standing with my arms outstretched, I felt like such a fool. How could my friend know I didn’t know that hugger’s rule?

Unless they’re related, (less than twice removed), guys don’t give girls two armed hugs, unless they’re preapproved.

There is more you must remember. Age comes into play. If hugees are old and feeble, you can hug them the old way.

Wrap your arms around them. Just don’t squeeze too tight. A right hug could go wrong and they might put up a fight.

I must apologize to the men who felt anxiety, when I hugged them without knowing, the degree of it’s propriety.

My hugs are often longer than what’s acceptable today. I only know it’s too long, when my huggee pulls away.

Though I hope all of you know, I think hugging is quite harmless, I’ll follow all the rules or someday I’ll be armless.

So if you’re walking towards me and you think something’s amiss. Stop before you get there and I’ll just throw you a kiss.

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

I think about Mom all the time, but even more so between her birthday on May 6th and Mother’s Day. I should write things down as I think of them. Actually, from what I have seen, all I would have to do is contact Facebook. It seems to me, they know my every thought. The other day, I “thought” about buying some new washable rugs. Later that same day, there was an ad on my reel… or whatever you call it. It was a video of a dog pooping on a variety of washable rugs. If you’re on facebook, here is the link. https://www.facebook.com/ruggable/videos/433145927430829/. The rugs are actually kind of neat looking.

I’m not afraid of what Facebook knows, but if they’re getting into my head, they should know it’s not safe…

Anyway, back to Mom. After they sold the Chalet Motel, Mom and Gus enjoyed traveling and RVing. Mom loved the road trips. They pulled a travel trailer behind their car, so Mom would give the front seat to their dog, Trouble, and she would stretch out on the back seat and sleep or just lounge.

We loved it when they came to Wyoming and stayed near us for several months at a time. Gus worked construction and Mom worked at the Rock Pile Museum. She loved it! When they settled in for good, they ended up moving closer to Billy and his family. Mom said they weren’t going to follow me around anymore. She had to get a new address book because she ran out of space for all of our moves.

Later on, Mom started having back problems and didn’t particularly enjoy spending much time in the car. I remember one of the times I visited them. Billy picked us up and drove us all to his house. By then, Mom had started having a few memory problems. She had been to Billy and Liz’s home many times, but with her memory failing her, she began to ask the same question each time they went anywhere.

“How long is this drive?”

I started to speak up and tell her it was an hour or more depending on the traffic, but Billy and Gus quickly butted in.

“It takes twenty minutes,” Billy said.

“Twenty minutes, just like always,” Gus threw in.

I still didn’t get it. Somehow, I finally understood what they were doing before I completely blew it. I doubt she would have taken my word for it, anyway. She asked the same question on the way back. I quickly reassured her it was only a twenty minute drive. She had remained perfectly happy with that answer, before. She hadn’t complained the whole hour it had taken us to get there, however, she verified my answer with Billy and Gus before she settled back for the short twenty minute drive back. About forty-five minutes into it, I should have asked Billy, “How many more miles??”

(We’ve heard this story a million times. Mary is getting to the age where she doesn’t forget to remember, but she remembers to forget.)

For several years, most of Mom’s pictures were of the left side of her face. She asked her friend, Audrey, which was her best side and that was the only side she turned to the camera. It didn’t really matter as the Sandersons never look towards the camera, anyway. I think Andrea is the only one who goofed up in this picture taken at Mom’s sister, Ella’s house. Uh oh, I just noticed Valerie looked at the camera, too.

(Elna Miller, Andrea Sheehan, Stephanie Miller-Davis, Valerie Halla, Ella Leckey, Loretta Gustafson, and Sugar Nyquist Parker).

When Mom called me, she would ask me all kinds of questions, but she would always preface her need to know with, “Don’t tell me anything bad.” She said she couldn’t handle bad news. I understand. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. It’s better to be told bad things after it’s all over and everything has turned out all right. It might be another Sanderson thing. Cousin Lav told me her dad used to say, “If Ella doesn’t have anything to worry about, she worries about not worrying.”

So, everyone, honor your mothers, your grandmothers, and their grandmothers, tomorrow. Go all the way back to the beginning of time. If it weren’t for that long line of mothers, none of us would be here. Same with the dads, but we’ll get into that next month.

My major goal in life has always been to find humor in every situation. Lately, I have been challenged to meet that goal, but I’m getting there. I’m going to share something with you, because if I don’t, I will always feel like I’m leaving something important out of my stories. I have written about almost every major and minor event that has occurred in my life since I was two, but I never imagined I would be writing about losing body parts. The good news is, I haven’t had to give up anything I can’t live without. I learned how to do that from my brother, Billy.

Billy lost a kidney and a percentage of one lung. The kidney died and filled with fluid that would have meant disaster if it had leaked into his body. The doctor found it by accident. Fortunately, you can live with just one kidney. He lost part of his lung when he had a malignant tumor removed a couple of years ago. I can’t help him with the lung and if he needs a kidney from his sister, he had better hurry, because, my body parts are going fast.

Just a minute! I’m sitting in the car waiting for Kip to save a turtle. We’re parked on the side of the road with the flashers on, but I should probably pay attention. Kip has saved hundreds of turtles. If he sees one crossing the road, he stops and carries them to the other side. You’ve got to love a man who puts himself and his wife in danger to save a poor, helpless turtle. At least I’m not sitting in the turn lane like last time.

So I only lost nine inches of my colon. I didn’t need chemo or radiation. Even though I developed an incision hernia, I felt blessed and went on my merry, Mary way. I told Kip that I wasn’t going to go through colon surgery and then die of breast cancer, so I scheduled a mammogram. You can imagine my surprise when two weeks later, we found ourselves hearing the news that I have a malignant tumor on the right side and suspicious activity on the left side. I haven’t actually met the surgeon yet, but she has reviewed all of my tests and is aware of the colon surgery, so she does not have a problem with my decision to extricate (not her word), a couple of body parts I don’t need…my final answer. I won’t know about chemo or radiation until the pathology report from the surgery comes back. It’s okay, anyway. I stopped taking biotin, which was keeping my hair from thinning because my doctor told me it was bad for the kidney that Billy might need. My hair is falling out, again.

I have talked with several women who have shared their stories with me. Just today, a new friend told me about a woman she knows who is in her seventies, and also had colon cancer and then breast cancer. That was two years ago. She is substitute teaching now. Another lady I met ten years ago, when she was at the end of her treatment for breast cancer, shared her experience with me. She talked about the emotional and physical things she experienced… I’m ready!

So here is the deal…

I am telling my family that I am not one of those people whose courage people admire. I know I’m going to live, okay…but I might be a big baby because, I hate what I will have to go through to get rid of the cancer in my body. I told my son that if a person dies before they are seventy, it’s considered dying young. He said, “Mom, I haven’t heard that before.” I will not be dying young, anyway, but it was something I felt he should know.

I told all of my kids that they could smother me with a pillow when I reached 85. I was only 50 at the time, so I have since amended that to 95. I also said that if they have to run to catch me, then don’t do it.

I laughed when I read a Facebook friend’s comment. She told her husband she didn’t have to cook supper because she has cancer. He’s had something equally traumatic and he had his trauma first, so she had to cook, anyway. She said that’s how they make decisions at their house, now.

We’re all faced with the inevitable. We all come from a long line of people who are no longer with us. I’m going to share a song with you. Don’t worry, I’m not singing it. Before I do that, I want to say that Kip and I know you are praying for me, I mean us. Kip is the kind of guy who will take whatever I dish out and still love me. I am very, very blessed with the most wonderful family and unbelievable friends.

The best thing I have going for me, is that I’m a believer. Thank you for all of your prayers. I can feel them coming my way.

I am not trying to minimize the suffering and loss that cancer has caused so many, but this is the way I have to be, because it’s the way I am.

So here’s the song I got a kick out of years ago. It kind of puts the cycle of life into perspective. Libby Roderick also has a song called, “How could anyone say you’re anything less than beautiful.” I read that it’s about someone who has lost body parts…

The shortest of  the four Sanderson girls, Mom was the only one who took after Grandma, who was even shorter. Though not heavy, she had Grandpa’s stockier build. Uncle Wayne, who was the oldest of the six, was stocky like Grandpa, but tall. Uncle Jeff was slim and I would say of medium height.  Ella, Helen, and Elna, were all tall and slim and the perfect ladies. You know, the kind that never raise their voices. I often wondered about that.

Maybe Mom felt different from the others. The girls, including her, were all beautiful, but she was more the outdoor type. She worked outside and the others helped Grandma in the house. Mom told me that Grandma once said, “Aren’t you glad both Billy and Mary got their dad’s disposition?” Mom got a kick out of that.

When she was eleven, the family moved from Horse Creek to a house near the cemetery outside of Murdo. Mom bragged to the Osborn kids that she was no longer going to go to country school with them. They said they would miss the others, but they wouldn’t miss her. I think Loretta is overdue for an interview with Yram…

Yram: Hi! My name is Yram Sicnarf. I’m a crack-up reporter from Gun Barrel City, Texas where everyone shoots sort of straight. This person with me is Lav. She’s sort of my sidekick. She currently resides in California, but Murdo is sort of where she longs to be. Mind if we ask you a few sort of interview-like questions?

Loretta: Shoot Yram and Lav. Just don’t say sort of again. Say, you two look really familiar. There were two girls that look like you who cleaned rooms for me at the Chalet Motel. Those two could eat their weight in Doris Haughland’s homemade cinnamon rolls. It was a cheap way to keep them working, though.

Lav: Never heard of them, Aunt Loretta. What were there names? (Yram elbows Lav in the side.)

Yram: Never mind her, she hasn’t been the same ever since she rode in that red convertible down Murdo’s Main Street. It was just too much! Tooo much, I guess.

Loretta: Yes, I heard about that. Only I heard those uh, girls were only slightly younger than Queen Elizabeth. I was only eighteen when I was Miss Highway 16. Are you taking notes, Yram? I said… I was Miss Highway 16! I even had a lady in waiting.

Lav: Yes! I’m a lady in waiting. I even have a crown! Well I broke my good one, but I still have a Princess crown.

She’s not above stealing crowns from little princesses

Loretta: You two are the limit! Do you girls want to pick up a little extra cash? I have a trunk load of motel towels that I need washed and folded. I’ll give you some quarters and you can wash them at the laundromat down the street. I’ll pay you seven dollars. I pay by the job. Don’t put any bleach in the wash. If the towels look too good, the tourists steal them.

Before the girls know what hit them, Loretta drops them and a trunk FULL of towels at the laundromat. Lav is very excited to earn money.

Lav: Say, Aunt Loretta, How many hours will this take us?

Loretta: It shouldn’t take you more than five…six at the most… including folding. I’ll leave my car here with the trunk up. Put them in there when you’re finished.

Yram: Where are you going for six hours?

Loretta: I’m having my hair done. There’s a beauty shop in that white building over there, but first I’m going to Mack’s Cafe for coffee. I’m late! I sure hope I haven’t missed all the news. I hate to miss the news. If I’m not there, sometimes I am the news.

 We heard there was a parade here. We love parades!

Yram: You know Lav…we got hoodwinked. I don’t think we even got to ask her one question.

Lav: Yeah. She talked as much as Grandpa M.E. Sanderson. No wonder our photographic drawer didn’t show up.

I drew every one of those photographs.

Here I am it’s 3:00 a.m. I’m wide awake for goodness sake.

Tried counting sheep, breathing deep, cookies and milk, but still no sleep.

Stressed about things I must do. Kept that up from twelve til two.

I know what those who sleep have said. When worry messes with your head, write down everything you can. Then wait for Mr. Sandman.

In the dark my thoughts are flowing. My worry list just keeps on growing.

I can’t wait til morning’s here, then all my fears will disappear. I wrote them down just like they said and then I tucked myself in bed.

I’m really tired but sleep evades me. Sandman won’t you come and save me? If I don’t drift off real soon, tomorrow I’ll be fried by noon.

It’s 6:00 a.m., I’m up again. When I’m finished writing this, I’ll look at my worry list.

The dark is starting to subside I see it’s getting light outside. I’m waiting for the light of day to throw my stupid list away.

Good morning!

More than one friend has mentioned … they would not like to live in my head.

There’s far too much noise and confusion. They prefer calmness, instead.

“You drive me to distraction!” I can hear my mother say.

I wasn’t sure where distraction was, but I was too young to drive anyway.

When I’m struck with a wild-haired idea, I always dive in headfirst.

More often than not I soon realize that I should have slept on it first.

I rather enjoy all the chaos. My mind keeps me quite entertained.

I can’t imagine how life would be with a head that isn’t harebrained.

Someone once called me a wit. I assumed they meant I was bright.

My dog said he kind of agreed, but he thought they were only half right.

I’m not able to sing, dance or cook much. My talents are hidden, I guess.

I’ve always loved to play sports… but I get tired so mostly I rest.

If you’re wondering where this is going, your guess is as good as mine.

My half-wittedess just advised me…It hates it when I start to whine.

You might say this is self-deprecating, or think it’s only pretense.

I’m pretty okay either way… I really don’t need common sense.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’m only as strong as glass,” she said. “I could break and I might shatter. 

I’m speaking of my body. Of course, my mind is a different matter.”

Broken glass infused with color becomes an artist’s inspiration.

Transformed into a stained glass window… it’s now a stunning creation.

White light passing through a prism releases a full spectrum of colors.

Glass cast aside by some is now deemed magical by others.

Glass can be deceiving. We see many shapes and sizes.

We think we can see through it, but it often will surprise us.

It’s vulnerable to all things that are weightier and strong.

Fragile glass left unprotected won’t be whole for very long.

She said, “I didn’t see it coming. I was broken beyond repair.

I knew I’d never be the same and it filled me with despair.

I saw a ray of light and looked up to see it’s source.

I couldn’t understand, and then I heard the words… ‘Of course’.”

He said, “Of course you’ll never be the same. Not like you were before.

Don’t lay in shattered pieces that you know you can’t restore.” 

“What else can I do?” I asked. Silence met my plea.

 My hand reached for a prism. Of course… His answers came to me. 

Pick up a few good pieces of those scattered all around.

Take the ones infused with character. There are several to be found.

Let the light shine through that prism you are holding in your hands.

Brush off the other broken glass as the new you bravely stands.

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

No matter how we live, we can’t control our lives.

We can’t prepare ourselves for all that might arise.

We might feel like shattered glass, broken for all time…

But we can salvage the good still there, and leave what we must, behind.

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

“You must always be aware,” He said. “Because, of course, I’m always there…”