Round 4

I hate to complain. There is a positive in everything and I will find it, but sometimes it takes me awhile.

Round 4 of my Adriamycin-Cytoxan (AC) regimen was particularly difficult. I felt toxic and polluted. My headache raged on, my body dehydrated quickly from my inability to take anything by mouth due to the intense nausea and seasick feeling I was experiencing. I didn't eat and lost 8 pounds in a week. I started to get feelings of urgency, pain and frequency with urination which could only mean one thing: a pending urinary tract infection. I'll save you the gory details of bowel movements but the constipation worsened and the frank red appearance of the product was worrisome. My heart rate was elevated. I was hopelessly exhausted and for the first time ever, I thought that I might not survive 3 more months of treatment. I started to lose faith. When my light starts to flicker, I log on to my computer. Primarily for diversion but also in hopes of a surprise email or FB message that might help. Again, my friends came through with well wishes and inspirational messages. I was ashamed for my feelings of doubt. I would get through this and the reason I felt so sick is because the medicine was killing cells effectively, which meant that it was eradicating my body of cancer cells. Self talk changed from "not another day" to "Man up girl cuz this is what we're here for!"

Round 4 of the AC was to be my last round of the hideous red syrup they pushed into my veins on a bi-weekly basis. The Adriamycin was bad enough, but followed by a chaser of Cytoxan was adding insult to injury. I immediately felt inebriated. I was unsteady, off balance, and my brain was swimming in fog. I couldn't think straight. I was repulsed by food.

People ask me "What's it like?" and I search for analogies that might paint the picture but to no avail. The best I can come up with is you feel drunk (really drunk, like sleep-in-your-party-clothes drunk in the back seat of your car), and pregnant at 18,000 feet of altitude. Not many people have either been pregnant or at 18,000 feet so I have to come up with something else. Seasick is close. Better yet, on a boat in 60-foot seas, seasick, and drinking Jagermeister. Are you shuddering yet? It's like that. I felt like a toxic waste dump. Despite the anti-nausea meds, the steroids, the force-feeding of soup, cheese and garlic stuffed olives, I was miserable. There was nothing but time and sleep that could save me and I swore that the effects were permanent.

I began to dread the rest of my treatment. The next regimen includes Taxol and Herceptin. Taxol is a thick, oil-like substance that looks like it would take the paint off of your car. Nurses double glove to mix the stuff. It's hideous. Herceptin is a hormonal adjuvant with no side effects. It's not chemo but they give it after the Adriamycin because both drugs are detrimental to the heart. I had to have a diagnostic test called MUGA scan between the two to make sure my heart muscle was not damaged. I got good news that my heart is just fine. Anyway, I began to worry about the Taxol because I get it every week for 12 weeks. There is no recovery week in-between and I was worried about side effects and the cumulative effect without time in between to recover. In essence, I was scared.

Three days ago, I got my first dose of Taxol and Herceptin. Because Taxol has a potential side effect of hypersensitivity, they premedicate you with Steroids, Benadryl and Pepcid. Why Pepcid? Because aside from being great for heartburn, it has an antihistamine effect that stymies allergic reactions. Kinda cool eh? What's not cool is as I was sitting there, I got the paradoxical reaction of restlessness that is associated with Benadryl . It's a strange feeling much like restless leg syndrome, only all over. You get really fidgety and want to jump out of your skin. My nurse was proactive and helpful with offers of more meds to sedate me, but I refused. I felt a greater need to deal with my situation rather than impair my mental status and turn me into a psychotic nightmare. Healthcare can be a slippery slope. Luckily, it resolved after a half of an hour, but for awhile, I was having to focus on staying calm and keeping myself from throwing a very, public fit. Marek had that worried, helpless look on his face. It's hard to assure your husband that you are going to be fine when you are tweaking on the inside.

This did not set a very reassuring stage for chemo. I was nervous. Being nervous is different for me now. It used to be I got butterflies or shaky but now, nervous is more manifested in my ability to communicate. I am short, irritable, and generally unpleasant. Conversation is an annoyance. My new mission is to find ways to process this so I am not so crotchety.

Anyway, my nurse began infusing the Taxol. In the first fifteen minutes, I anticipated that feeling of inebriation or some sort of toxic feeling but there wasn't any. After a half of an hour, I began to get sleepy, probably from the Benadryl. I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, my Taxol was done. I was fine and there was no toxic waste dump feeling. The Herceptin was the same and I was so elated, I could hardly stand it. I cried on the way home. I was so consumed with relief that this regimen would not take me down week to week and that I might actually make it with some semblance of a life outside of my cancer treatment. It was also the first time I admitted to myself that the AC regimen was brutal and hard and awful. I wanted to be strong and positive throughout the treatment and I was, but when it was over, I allowed myself a moment of tears. A moment that validated that it was hard, but that I had made it. And with the Taxol being far less toxic, the increase in my quality of life brought tears of gratitude.

We were silent most of the way home. Marek was faced with the reality that I had cancer, and I had just experienced the epiphane that I was going to survive it. Conversation was difficult, so we didn't speak. I don't think we had to. We've moved into phase II. We are a seasoned cancer family now.

Thanks

Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I am completely overwhelmed with this holiday. Everywhere, I see posts on FB or hear DJ's on the radio asking what I am thankful for this holiday season. Seriously? Are there rules to this? How much can one be thankful for publicly? Everyday, I shed a tear of gratitude. I started to think that if I listed everything I was thankful for I would be here until next year. I've decided to do a little exercise of what I am thankful for to see what pops into my mind as I go along. This might be a little tedious for the reader but important for me to process. Feel free to let me know how far you got.....

I am thankful for teachers, nurses, soccer coaches, and mothers. They will be solely responsible for saving humanity.

I am thankful for the gift of a meal. In my darkest hours, I could not nourish myself the way others can.

I am thankful for Stephanie Pope and Syd Shainholz who have inspired me to and taught me how to beat cancer with grace and style. I am determined to be a happy ending.

I am thankful for my Park City posse who continues to include me and love me like I still live there.

I am thankful for Holly, Andrea and Becky who got the bad news first and said all the right things.

I am thankful Spencer is still of this planet and fights everyday to stay here.

I am thankful for rain that washes away the dust, sun that gives light and heat and the moon that waxes and wanes without fail.

I am thankful for Russ and Rob Reed who can drive a backhoe and a dozer better than anybody I've ever seen and have hearts of gold.

I am thankful for Louis and all the people who have built me this gorgeous home that I live in.

I am thankful Subaru makes cars that last for ten years and 200,000 miles even if you drive them through a lake.

I am thankful for my Mother-in-law who tries all the time to be a good grandma and a helpful person. I do not make this easy and neither does she, but I am thankful she overlooks this.

I am thankful for lemon fruit bars without which, I might be hospitalized.

I am thankful for Andrea Hirsbrunner who brings fresh apples, farm fresh eggs, homespun honey, and homemade bread. It is a gift of love with a swiss flourish.

I am thankful for Edith who makes me laugh and inspires me to do the same for others.

I am thankful for Polly who calls all the way from Vermont out of the blue and cracks me up on her way to work.

I am thankful for Monique who keeps my head warm everyday.

I am thankful for Jennie because she is Jenny and she knits really cool hats that I don't know whether to frame or wear.

I am thankful for all the messages, notes, emails, cards and correspondences I receive each day that tell me others are there. It keeps me positive and strong

I am thankful for all the women who have suffered before me so that I have a better chance to live.

I am thankful for a ski racing career that provided me with opportunity and friendship that continues today.

I am thankful for UCSF and a team of rockstar healthcare professionals that sacrifice everyday to treat people like me.

I am thankful for Heather and Laurie who give and give and give and listen to me rant and rant and rant.

I am thankful for the river that flows through my front yard and reminds me that all things wash downstream eventually.

I am thankful for the California Montessori Project where my girls can go to school safely and not be judged.

I am thankful for Alice.

I am thankful for the Jazz Soccer Team who surrounded me and held me up the last two months.

I am thankful for AJ and Adrian Utush who will teach, inspire, and test my girls in the greatest sport that ever was.

I am thankful for Todd Thalhamer and his family for single-handedly showing me how to inspire, uplift, and galvanize an entire community.

I am thankful for Pam B., Dawn, Christy and Pam T. for helping me pass through denial.

I am thankful for Noelle, Sueanne, and Natalie for always being there, ready to take my children on a moment's notice.

I am thankful for Dr. Katy Rutherford for being friend and shaman to all of Coloma.

I am thankful for Buddhism for teaching me to see things in different ways.

I am thankful for Christianity for giving me a framework with which to lead my life.

I am thankful for Islam and Judaism for providing perspective.

I am thankful for my parents for teaching me how to rise out of adversity over and over again.

I am thankful for my formal education.

I am thankful for sarcasm and my ubiquitous use of it.

I am thankful for my job and the amazing people I work with.

I am thankful that Theresa knows where the wig store is.

I am thankful for long, rolling lefts that you can surf forever.

I am thankful for snow and mountains and high-speed chairlifts.

I am thankful that I do not have to shave very often.

I am thankful for modern technology, facebook and Apple products.

I am thankful for the mist that settles in the canyon over the river with the trees floating out of it early in the morning.

I am thankful for decaf coffee.

I am thankful for my friend Eva who inspires and motivates, keeps a close eye on the latest in nutrition and her passion to share it.

I am thankful for Havarti cheese and garlic stuffed olives.

I am thankful for OR nurses and scrub techs who keep brilliant surgeons brilliant.

I am thankful for the men and women fighting for our country, day in and day out, despite a poorly run government.

I am thankful for Krista Campbell who taught me about the importance of Choice and that spilled milk is not a tragedy but an opportunity to learn how to use a sponge.

I am thankful for Music and the digital industry that makes it accessible.

I am thankful for Zach and Tessa who bring joy and laughter to our home.

I am thankful for forgiveness.

I am thankful for Dick and Joe and ECHO: the Wilderness Co. for the life they gave me and taking nothing but family christmas cards in return.

I am thankful for jumper cables.

I am thankful for Mixed Martial Arts and two Kwan Jang Nims and a Bu Saba Nim that inspire students everyday.

I am thankful for Lori L. and Mary R. who keep me on the warrior path despite only meeting them 5 months ago.

I am thankful for chenille and fleece.

I am thankful for Marian Fitzpatrick who keeps me moving.

I am thankful for all of my scars and the stories they tell.

I am thankful Miss Angela beat Hodgkins.

I am thankful that people read my blog.

I am thankful for a friend named Rusty.

I am thankful the Propane guy, who comes at the most inconvenient times possible.

I am thankful that no matter how prepared I am, how smart I think I am, or how many plans I make, life remains completely unpredictable.

I am thankful that my husband's family loves me anyway.

I am thankful for AC/DC, Zac Brown, and the Grateful Dead.

I am thankful for Eclipse 02 and their support despite leaving the team earlier this year.

I am thankful that our family dog is deaf and blind and not incontinent.

I am thankful that I don't have to look at our broken down shed anymore when I look out the window.

I am thankful for the myriad of stars you can see while lying on our roof.

I am thankful for a roof, and a meal, clean water to drink, and warmth.

I am thankful that Taxol is a much easier drug to handle than the Adriamycin-Cytoxan (AC) regimen.

I am thankful for so much more.....

Most importantly, I am thankful for two daughters who teach me more about myself everyday. I am thankful that they are beautiful inside and out, that their love of life is infectious. I am thankful that they love me despite all of my many inadequacies and the fact that I am a one-breasted, bald-headed mom, unlike all the other moms. I am thankful they chose me and I am so thankful that they are healthy and happy and wise beyond their years.

And I am thankful for a husband who gives without getting. I am thankful for his tenacity, his gentleness and his love for family. I am thankful for his honesty and his vivid description of my strengths and flaws. I am thankful that he is a sexy beast and a patient one. I am thankful that we met when we were poor and happy and have built a life together that we can be proud of. I am thankful that he is not his mother, at least not entirely. I am thankful he knows his way around a power tool and that he can go from a tailored suit to a pair of Carharts without issue. I am thankful that ER stories don't scare him away and that he listens to them despite hating them. I am thankful that he tries to get me to drive to Baja every year instead of flying to a Hyatt Regency in Oahu.....well, sort of. I am thankful that he is not afraid to do laundry. I am thankful that he has hope even when I don't. I am thankful that he is left-handed. I am thankful that Cancer has not scared him away. I am thankful he is a good person and that he loves me regardless.

There is more, but I would be here all night, and frankly, I'm starting to get sleepy. Everyday. I have gratitude in abundance and I am convinced that it keeps me from going to dark places. So many people do so much for me all the time. I am both inspired and paralyzed by gratitude. I have so much to be thankful for that I feel an intense and overwhelming need to earn it every second of everyday. By this, I choose to be positive and upbeat, to smile as much as I can even if it means keeping excrement from squishing between my teeth. Let's face it, I'm no saint, but I choose happiness. There is no way to give thanks that is worthy, but I can choose to live responsibly and earn the kindness that has been shown to me by making the best of every moment. It's the best I can do... for now, and I am grateful for the understanding of others.

AND I am thankful that you read this far.....

Chemo, chymo, someone ate a rhino....

Chemotherapy.....Well, I still haven't resorted to smoking, eating or considering pot but I've been to places with my side effects that have caused me to think twice. Years ago, starting with 8 to be exact, a close friend of mine delivered all three of her babies at home (not at once). This was no small task as most of her children were 8lbs plus and she delivered them naturally without pain medication. I couldn't imagine, and I am still in awe standing next to this amazing woman who brought her family into this world all on her own. When I asked her how she did it, she had no explanation. She did say that if she had a bottle of heroine, she would have drank it. At least, I felt a little validated.

Sometimes, I think that I would do anything to relieve my chemo side effects. Chemo feels a lot like seasickness or high altitude sickness. I get severe headaches and nausea. Just this round, my MD prescribed low dose, short-term steroids which is exactly what you do when you are standing at the south Col on Mt. Everest finding yourself too dizzy or too tired to get yourself down off the mountain. You inject Dexamethasone. Why this didn't occur to me before, I still don't know. Probably not thinking clearly. Glad to be getting off this mountain this particular time. I wonder now, how I will respond at high altitude. I do know that I probably won't hesitate to inject myself with Dex sooner than later.

Then there's the weirdo food stuff. Repulsed by most foods, I have a hard time choosing something to eat. I have to eat to recover. Otherwise, it's just prolonged. Exercise and food are good ways to move all these toxins out of your system and the last thing you want to do is eat or exercise. So, I find myself often rummaging through the fridge or the pantry looking for that one thing that doesn't smell too awful or might be mildly appealing or specifically, not repulsive. Smell is heightened and worsened by my chemo. Even if I feel like eating, by the time I prepare something, the smell ruins it for me. One day, I was desperate for something warm to eat. I put a clothes pin on my nose and made a spinach tortilla with jack cheese, a.k.a. a quesadilla. At the last minute, I removed the clothes pin and ate as fast as I could before the smell made me hate it. It worked but it was a lot of energy to make that happen.

Currently, frozen fruit bars seem to be the easy choice. Lemon and Pineapple are my favorite. After 3 or 4 of these delectables though, my mouth gets sore. With delicate mucosa from the chemo, it's easy to suck a hole in my palate or suffer the swollen tastebuds that result. Then, I really don't want to eat anymore. So, I search for better options. Yams have been strangely appealing lately. That sweet orangey flesh with organic butter, salt, and just a hint of Agave nectar seems heavenly. The other thing is tomato and mayonnaise sandwiches on fresh (warm, squishy,) sourdough bread. Finally, revisiting my childhood and the "Chalads" of the Utah Coal & Lumber Restaurant, I love a bowl of butter lettuce, with a mound of organic monterey jack cheese on top, swimming in sweet vinaigrette. Recently my friend Katy brought me some awesome red seedless grapes that I popped into the freezer wondering when I would ever be able to eat them. I delved into these this week and they turned out to be little snacks of heaven. They are small, sweet and cold and seem to satisfy my need for something quick and odorless without sending me into acidosis or ripping up my esophagus on the way down. Did I mention Kombuchaaaaaaah? Fizzy, cold and sweet it coats and soothes, but only for a moment. Most of the time, I take one or two sips or bites and then I'm done. The rest goes down forcibly in hopes that it is what my body needs.

Cancer makes you something of a food chemist. I wonder why I crave the foods I do. Is it some sort of nutrient need my body must have? Or is it purely based on my inner Id requiring instant gratification because I am so miserable? Still struggling with this one but not opposed to tomato, mayonnaise and sourdough over the choice of Cannabutter so far.

It's hard to make great choices all the time. I do my best. The catch-22 of trying to eat foods that will make my body healthy vs. make my psychology better is dizzying. Certainly, I try and err on the side of health. Plant-based diet with lots of cancer-fighting foods is the goal. However, I also try to avoid the stress that goes with, "Oh no, I just ate wheat."

There are all kinds of cancer-fighting foodstuffs out there and I am eating them. I eat the kale. It's actually pretty good dehydrated and salted. My friend Terry delivered two bags of the stuff, and ironically, it looked just like pot. Kinda funny. I eat the seaweed when I can, but usually it's wrapped around sushi that might take my GI system down given that I have no more floral bacteria to combat the smallest insult of a bad fish. Since I am mostly constipated, I am not worried....yet. And speaking of constipation, it can't go without being said that I get most of my hydration from a gallon of prune juice and Barsotti's unpasteurized Apple Cider. Keeps me on the move so to speak.

So it's not just the polypharmacy in my bathroom medicine cabinet giving me relief and keeping me going but also the food chemistry, however odd it may be. Thankfully, at the end of my rope, someone delivers dinner and there is just the thing that my body wants and needs. It happens every time. Last night's curried chicken with grilled vegetables did just the trick. I am looking forward to eating again where everything I want, tastes as I remember it, and the smell of it is as appealing as the flavor. I am excited for my tastebuds to return to normal and the aluminum taste in my mouth to subside. Until then, I revel in odd food adventures and am grateful for the safety net of a frozen fruit bar. Or a good friend who comes to call with Yams and Pomegranate juice.

Headgear

Back in the day, it was tricky being paid as a ski racer. If you had any designs on skiing for a college team or the Olympics, you could not accept money directly from anyone other than your national governing body, in our case, the U.S. Ski Team. The U.S. Ski Team generates fundraising on its own to cover basic costs for athletes such as cheap, fleabag European hotels and fizzy water at dinner. They did this by selling exclusive sponsorships and all of us wore a uniform with 4 or 5 patches indicating that Reebok was the "official shoe" of the U. S. Ski Team or "Subaru" was the official vehicle. Most of the money generated went to Race entry fees, Coaches salaries, and rental vans to drive athletes and ski bags all over the European continent. None of this money went to the athletes directly and the athletes had a hard time generating income to pay the bills they left at home, like rent and car insurance that they left behind for half the year. If you were winning, raising funds was not difficult, but if you were still climbing the ladder, you had to be creative. Ski companies (and boot companies and binding companies etc.) were able to give equipment, but in doing so, did not have money to give the Athletes unless they were at the top of the list. Athletes could generate funds by doing promotional events for ski shops or participating in events, and any money that an athlete received would be funneled through the U.S. Ski Team and distributed as long as it was a "training expense". However, with the U.S. Ski Team covering the uniform and all the "official" gear, it was difficult to make ends meet when you were an up-and-comer. Then came head gear. The F.I.S. Committee allowed each athlete to rent out approximately 1" X 5" of real estate on their forehead. Companies would pay an athlete to wear their logo for the ski season and in return athletes would get media exposure that would bring that company loads of advertising. It was a win-win.

For me, my hometown ski area, Park City Ski Resort (now Park City Mountain Resort) paid me to wear their name on my helmet and ski hat. I was proud of it. I chased TV cameras and photographers around and tried to have my picture taken as much as possible. I made a complete ass of myself wherever I could as long as I got attention and as long as someone got my picture. I never took it off. I had that logo on everything: ski hats, headbands, baseball caps etc. Wherever I went, I had Park City on my head and everyone knew I was promoting Park City no matter what. Park City sponsored a number of athletes with head gear contracts, but I was the only athlete that was actually FROM Park City. I milked this for all it was worth and gave back whenever I could. I was supremely grateful as the money I received from Park City kept me competitive. It allowed me to pay my rent, keep my car and pay for the gym membership that I needed to train. Ultimately, it helped me buy the house I live in today. Yep, I saved. Headgear was a godsend for me because I was still making my way to the top of the start list in World Cups and I was grateful to make enough to keep me training and racing.

Cancer is not much different from training and racing. It requires knowing your physical limitations, preparation for chemo day and recovery and intense mental focus. And it requires a whole new set of headgear. I have traded in my barrettes, ponytail holders, hairbands and clips for wigs, scarves, baseball caps and winter hats. And Park City is still sponsoring me. My high school friends recently sent me a box filled with wigs, hats, scarves and various ginger based candies and cookies to keep my nausea at bay. The pink wig is my favorite but there is also a blue wig and a purple wig which I will wear often, I am sure. There is also a Jennie Hat. Jennie and I went to school together and ski raced on the Park City Ski Team. She is now known for her very cool ski hats and I am now the proud owner of one. I am very grateful for this box of love as I can just see all of these girls shopping together. I know the stuff that DIDN'T make the box was putting them in fits of laughter in the middle of the store, and probably getting them into all kinds of trouble...The idea of my friends shopping together for me makes me laugh. I wish I could have been there with them. They are a really amazing group of ladies that have put me back on the Park City Gravy Train. I am super grateful for this wonderful home town. It is and always will be where I am from and filled with some of the greatest people I have ever known.

But that's not all. One of my former U.S. Ski Team buddies also sent me a box of headgear. Her husband is a DaKine representative of sorts and inside a box that came in the mail were a whole slew of different style hats. They have come at a perfect time because the weather has recently gotten a little chilly and my head is freezing! It's such a weird sensation to have your entire head exposed to the elements.

I am so grateful for all of the love and kindness being shown to my bald and freezing head and I love the fact that the people looking out for my head (and well-being) are the very people who did so 20 years ago. Now, I just have to figure out how to get the "Park City" patch on the wigs....

Thoughts on Life

12 years of ER nursing is a drop in the bucket. Anyone who has been there that long and longer will tell you that this particular milestone is where you are just getting started. By this time, you are slightly jaded from too many methamphetamine users, or alcoholics who spit on you and call you a cold-hearted bitch. If you started out a Democrat, you were probably starting to swing to the right by now. Or if you started out a Republican, you were probably drifting left. At this point, you are the nurse wishing for a really good trauma to come in the door.....There are all sorts of characters in the ER and the most colorful of them are often the people you work with. I could write all day about my colleagues but the patients are why we work there. And the patients are diverse.....The ER is where you see all walks of life in their moment of crisis. Everyone's determination of crisis is different. From a hangnail and a toothache to a massive cardiac arrest, I have seen a lot of things walk through that front door, and the great irony is that I know I have not and will never see it all. The perk to this job is that you sort of get the cliff notes to life. Certain lifestyles beckon certain emerging physical conditions, like if you smoke all your life, you get a nasty case of emphysema, or if you drink everyday you can consider gastrointestinal bleeding or liver problems to be the means to your end. There is trauma, my personal favorite, most of which could be avoided, and probably the biggest attraction for ER nurses because it's so darn interesting and what we are trained for. Then, there are the social visits; Visits from patients that are simply lonely and need something to do on a Friday night. We see all sorts of patients from all walks of life in all sorts of situations and you can bet that many of us have asked ourselves the question, "what if it was me?"

It is about this time that I started wondering what I was going to die of. I was physically fit and no family history of heart disease so I was pretty sure I could rule the big one out. Darn. I liked the idea of going out fast. My parents were smokers and while I didn't smoke, I thought perhaps that a lung condition due to secondhand smoke might take me out. This was further considered with a post-pregnancy diagnosis of asthma. However, by comparison, it was not looking like this was to be my path. I don't drink very much so liver problems were probably out. That leaves, stroke, kidney failure (which is awful), or Cancer.

Ding Ding! We have a winner!

Well, sort of. One thing I have learned is that many Cancer patients do not die of cancer. They die of complications related to treatment. Infection is the worst of them and it is the one I worry about most. A case of bronchitis can lead to pneumonia fairly quickly and from there, it's a slippery slope. There are also clotting problems that can develop. After awhile, the body cannot produce platelets which causes the blood to clot and well, you get the picture. Unfortunately, there are far too many patients that simply die of being lonely. Cancer is a tough disease because it takes away your friends with Cancer and makes it hard to relate to friends without cancer. We see these folks in the ER a lot because the next best thing to a friend with cancer is a nurse who gets what you are going through and is not easily deterred by a bald head and tubes and wires coming out of your body. Mostly, these patients need to be fluffed. They need their medications sifted through and education on how best to take them. They need to know that there is someone listening and that in their darkest hour, they will not be left alone.

It is in these moments that I am reminded of how important we are to one another. Even total strangers can be there for each other. I believe we all have a purpose here and when we are satisfied that we have fulfilled that purpose, we are content to leave this world for the next journey, whatever that journey may be. It is not for me to say what that journey is but having met so many different kinds of people including murderers, domestic abusers, and the mentally ill, I truly believe that we are all going to a better place regardless of religion or politics. I am also convinced that almost none of us will arrive in a well-preserved body.

Perhaps I'm a bit cryptic. It should also be stated that I have seen amazing displays of the human spirit from patients, family members, doctors, clinical technicians, unit secretaries, paramedics, housekeeping staff, admitting clerks, hospital volunteers, and perfect strangers. I am always amazed at what one person will do for another in a moment of need. This is humanity at its finest moment. It is the basis of every miracle and the seed of hope. In the last two months, I have witnessed, first hand, the kindness of strangers and friends to whom I could never come close to returning the favor. From nourishing meals, and interesting headgear, to a 5 word text or an impromptu visit, the connection to other humans is vital to my personal survival. It's somewhat of an epiphane, (which makes me wonder about my personal psychology). Regardless, it's a step in the right direction.

Perhaps I have gone a little too far because I have fallen in love with everyone lately. Every hand-delivered yam, every heart shaped rock, every goofy sequined headband brought to my door fills me with intense emotion and love. I want to reach out and hug everybody, who lately seem to smell so good...weird. I want to buy the world a coke and keep it company. Peace, Love, Popsicles. I want a second chance to show the world that I am not the cold-hearted bitch that my father raised me to be but rather, the inspirational wife, mother, and friend that brings out the best in others. My journey appears to be just beginning. I might actually survive this and if so, I will be left to wonder how my life will end. Who knows? I might get hit by a bus tomorrow. Trauma....my favorite.