Days Like This

Last weekend my parents and I visited my sister Kathy and her family in their home in the hills west of Dallas. Afterward, we drove into Dallas to spend a couple of days visiting museums with my sister as our guide. First on our list was the JFK Sixth Floor Museum in downtown Dallas.

We drove into Dallas - myself, driving with my dad in his car, and Kathy in her brand new car, with Mother as her passenger.  We had already purchased our tickets online for the specific time slot of 3:00 - 3:30 pm and were on track to arrive at the museum at that exact time.  We just had to locate our hotel and drop off Dad's car and drive to downtown Dallas together.

I punched in the address of the hotel into my Google Maps but true to form, let my phone die before we could reach the destination.  Kathy took charge and loaded the address into her phone and we took off in the direction of downtown.  While Dad and I were following my sister's car, well, we began to clearly drive in circles ...... at least three times.  Apparently her phone was not accepting the address of the hotel and was leading her back to the point of origin.  Driving a car in circles in the middle of Dallas with my dad in the passenger's seat is a distinct experience that one would only wish on.......oh, let's say Al Qaeda.

With the clock ticking we decided to just pull over and drop the car off at a random spot and go onto the museum together as planned and pick the car up afterward, perhaps better prepared to find the hotel.  As Dad and I got into my sister's car, something was clearly wrong.  Mother, who was impeccably dressed in her green top and white pants, was covered in melted chocolate.

"Get in, hurry," my sister said as we were silently studying the situation at hand.

Mother appeared to be as confused as the rest of us that she had gotten chocolate all over herself and the interior of the brand new car. It had apparently melted in her purse and unknowingly gotten all over her.

"We need to clean up Mother.....this mess...." I stuttered. "She has more clothes in the trunk of their car....."

"There is no time."  said Kathy, tossing a small towel to my mother as we peeled out onto the expressway, "We will miss our time slot."

After a bit, Mother spoke up, "Well, I'm certainly not going into the museum like this."

We drove on, my Dad for once in a stunned silence, myself in the back seat with Mother and her chocolate clothes, no one daring to speak.  I made eye contact with Mother and both of us overcome with the hilarity of the situation broke out into fits of giggles.  No one the in front seat joined in our amusement.

We arrived at the museum and Dad and I jumped out of the car with our tickets and into the building while Kathy parked the car with Mother.  Apparently Kathy had some extra clothes packed in her trunk and Mother changed in the back seat of the car while Kathy kept the parking attendants from peering into the window.

When we all arrived at the sixth floor, we meandered through the exhibits, but eventually found a bench to sit on and decompress from the previous hour's activities.  I looked at my mother sitting on the bench in clothes not her own, with tear stains on her face.  Yes, we had laughed until we cried in the car, but these tears were fresh.  From the minute she walked onto the floor, she was overcome with that moment of horror..........when she lost her President.

The chocolate and the car were cleaned and we eventually found our hotel........and I wouldn't have changed that afternoon for the world.

The Land We Belong To

This afternoon, as my parents were visiting, we sat down to watch a movie "Far and Away" a depiction of the famous land run into Oklahoma.  With the recent devastation still on my mind, I wondered to myself if these settlers could even imagine what their claimed land held in store for them.

My stomach still churns at the the sense of helplessness I felt last week as the cable news channel showed the tornado plowing through my hometown, the helicopters swooping in with instant videos of the destruction. People were shocked as the improbable reality of a storm of such magnitude actually striking again, turned into a seemingly familiar resignation of gloom when what was left was nothing but rubble.

And the media descended into the chaos, asking the obvious questions  - "Why do you continue to live in an area that poses so much risk?  Most people's answers implied the same message...."Because it is what we know.....Because it's home."

Yes, it is home, but it is a tough land, with unforgiving summers, red clay dirt, fierce winds and reckless storms.  These storms twist and tease, beating a path of destruction and spewing the lives and belongings of the victims back to the ground, then casually creeping into the dark cloud above it.

But these people who endure, whose families have histories far before the dust bowl, have never taken the easy path.  Instead of shaking their fists at fate or the land that betrayed them, they get up another day, and although a little worse for wear, they move forward in the hopes that their tomorrow will be a brighter day.

After all, they are home.

On My Own Terms

I spent the last week in the hospital.  I have adjusted to the fact that although it certainly doesn't define me, I will be a cancer patient forever. And after seven years, I have accepted the potential outcomes of my disease and feel confident that if I leave this life on earth,  I will awaken to another experience, another realm, always connected to my loved ones.  So, bottom line.... my cancer doesn't shake me.

I think what I have taken from the whole doctor/hospital thing is - question everything.  In the beginning of my illness, I was terrified, so everything the physicians said and did - I accepted without question.  And, God bless them, they are amazing, wise people, these physicians, but they cannot know our bodies like we do.  And, they do not know every single, correct decision every patient should make.  They just don't.

I've learned to speak up.  If I think that there might be a better option of treatment than I am offered, I go in search of it and try it.  If I don't want a tube shoved down my nose, through my throat into my stomach, then I just say "no"  and smile.  If the nurse assigned to my room is having a bad day.....I can ask to have her reassigned.  This past week in the hospital I woke up to an anesthesiologist standing over my bed with consent forms for me to sign because the on-call surgeon was wanting to cut me open and do an exploratory surgery with a possible intestinal resection.  (He had a sudden opening in his schedule)  Again, "no"  (smile)

I know that I am to the point that I will need to have surgery, but I'm doing it on my own terms.  I've since spoken to the surgeon and asked that the surgery be a collaborative one with another specialist.  I've learned to cover my own bases, because sometimes, they just don't.  Perhaps I need to feel in control of something and this gives me that aspect of control.

Interestingly enough, the physicians are usually very open to discussion and compromise.  So for now....life is on my own terms.

Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo

Fabulous!!

Beautiful Things

Last night I attended a book discussion featuring my favorite author, Cheryl Strayed.  This past summer, I read her book, "Wild," a memoir of her journey as a young woman alone on the Pacific Crest Trail.  Her story resonated with me so profoundly as it has with thousands of other people.  Although I've never hiked ten miles, much less the hundreds of miles she walked, I gravitated to her journey of reflection and eventual self discovery.  On this particular trail, she came to terms with her grief, acknowledged her mistakes and found a path to a more enlightened, humbler life.

During the session, she read the last passage of her book "Tiny Beautiful Things" which is advice to her younger self so I had to buy it to read myself.

"There are some things you can't understand yet.  Your life will be a great and continuous unfolding.  It's good you've worked hard to resolve childhood issues while in your twenties, but understand that what you resolve will need to be resolved again.  And again.  You will come to know things that can only be known with the wisdom of age and the grace of years.  Most of those things will have to do with forgiveness........  You cannot convince people to love you.  This is an absolute rule.  No one will ever give you love because you want him or her to give it.  Real love moves freely in both directions.  Don't waste your time on anything else.  Most things will be okay eventually, but not everything will be.  Sometimes you'll put up a good fight and lose.  Sometimes you'll hold on really hard and realize there is no choice but to let go.  Acceptance is a small, quiet room"

Paris in Springtime

Just some photos from Paris last Spring that make me happy - Happy Springtime!!

Beautiful

My cousin posted this picture of my mother at 29 years old.  It mesmerizes me.  She is the most amazing, beautiful and loving person I have ever known.  Unfortunately, she has to have surgery in a few weeks which will be fine, but of course I worry.  I wouldn't be my mother's daughter if I didn't do so.  Love you Mom.