tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-13865667880754698062024-03-05T18:31:30.158-08:00Mission "Melanoma"In Round 3 of my battles with Melanoma, I have decided to no longer sit on my hands. Its just too much. I need to let it out of my "skin". Be an active participant in this cancer thing, instead of just hoping it will stand at the doorway and leave me alone. And so I will write. Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-19526334231166644102023-08-24T07:00:00.104-07:002023-08-25T11:10:18.072-07:00Chapter 13 - Respect Your Inner Person<p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Respect </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">your</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> personal limitations, listen to </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">your</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> body, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">your</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> energy level. </span></b></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-09d179b2-7fff-8df3-067f-73f9dfabbcc6"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Another thing I’ve learned is, be “</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">your</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">” self. Not “someone else's” self. </span></b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia;"><b>My first attempt at climbing out of this space was the strategy of busy-ness. Distraction. I was on the other side of all this pain, right? I can just move on now. </b></span></span><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So just keep swimming. Keep doing. The rest will come. </b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It seems to work for others, so it should work for me, right? </b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I also erringly thought busy-ness would somehow enact a reward. Fix me. Fix life. </span></b></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So I gave every bit of myself spiritually, desperately trying to put it above all else, even while being physically sick through most of it. I felt like if I did, good </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">had</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> to finally come. Alas, during that time, My husband’s sister died a very sudden death, the "sale" of Dad’s property was disappointing, spiritual children and friends had left us, and I watched my Uncle die from cancer. </span></b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia;"><b>Effort seemed to produce disappointment instead of blessings. And I was tired. Tired of trying. I wore myself out going at this pace. My joy was gone. I never had time to be creative. My once open loving spirit, became closed and emotionally autonomous in order to survive. Life was a chore. I had just enough time to keep up. No extras, no getting ahead, or getting things accomplished. All I ever wanted to do since I was a little girl, was be a housewife and take care of my family. I didn't "take care", I just got by. Got fed. Got done what was minimally required. </b></span></span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia;"><b><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> I thought that with my Dads death I could eventually stop working, and aux pioneer. But I haven't. And now the desire to pioneer has left me, its died. Along with my</span><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </span></b></span><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;">eternal optimist.</b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> I just didn’t care anymore, I just wanted to be alone. Not be obligated to anyone or anything. I lost the person I wanted to be. And even the person I was. </b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;">There is mourning in that loss. And it showed. So many people came up to me during that time and sincerely asked how I was. They knew. My good friend told me my eyes aren't sparkly like they usually are. I guess realizing I lost my inner being does that. Whatever light was in me before had now dimmed. The battery worn low. </b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>But I'll be fine. "I’m fine." I say.</b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b>I buried these thoughts so deeply most of my closest friends and loved ones didn't know they existed. (till now)</b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #783f04; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img height="84" src="https://lh5.googleusercontent.com/mUT4piiRmRunLJI3Z1Et_EUPMovwP9VvgEjsaV_IwCqfai4w41eUBBMAuZnrzHQ91qH1TzmAlLN0PUPMzLXaWMwOmeMxc3uQ_YGatV9WScFRJNM93UWfwSgQg4szuJ1wHllUMUMih3NDqncO3FHBxX8" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="257" /><br /></span></div><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">After all this struggling and just surviving for so long, I had changed my focus and forgot about nurturing me. I needed to slow down. Refocus. The writing I did while in the middle of my health issues helped soooo much, but I abandoned it in the years following, focusing only on my spiritual life and not ever on myself. Thinking that would somehow <i>Fulfill All</i> and result in some kind of reward. But I needed to find reward not just in a future promise, but also in the gift of everyday, of being human, of the earthly gifts God gave us. </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It was like an epiphany. I realized, I don’t need to mentally prepare to leave this earth! I </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">am </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">an </span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">earth creature</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">. I <i>LOVE</i> this earth and all it has to offer. I need to feed that. It’s ok to live in the moment, enjoy now. Not tomorrow, not later, or in Paradise. To slow down for goodness sake! Why was I eating fast, cleaning fast, cooking fast, walking fast. Stop rushing!! Its ok to avail myself of earthly pleasures as long as it doesn't interfere with spiritual things. In fact, it can complement my spirituality, not erode it. This realization was a turning point for me. </span></span></b></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Some people need to keep busy, to be distracted, because being alone with their thoughts is scary. I tried that, keeping busy and distracted. But I didn't realize the damage I was doing to my inner person, burying her, not giving her time to live. I </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">like</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> my inner person. I </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">like</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> being alone with her, just thinking. I am an introvert. And I</span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> like</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> being an introvert. I </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">like</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> who I am. Being introverted isn’t a negative thing. I recharge by being alone with my thoughts, to reset. I had not done that in for so long. I’m not a surface dweller. I need to dive deep, deep into myself and express what’s been buried. </span></span></b></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I wrote this during a camping trip, one of the things we do every year to make time to just “be”. </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">To Just “Be” </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I am an only child. And thankfully, I am also comfortable in solitude. I never appreciated this quality till much later in life. Although I was comfortable in my solitude, I also felt that I had much to give others. My desire to "fulfill" made me want to devote my life to family, being a housewife. A pipe dream that was never realized. And now, after being fractured into so many different roles, for so very long, I have come to appreciate the ability to be in solitude. To just "be". And yet it's so elusive. That's why camping is such a treasure, a yearly need. I find moments of myself, to be, and simply exist. Without obligation, the choice to read, write, draw, pet my fluffy, or my Molly, to stare out at the forest, to think, let things roll around in my mind and wander untethered. Or just take a long nap without guilt or disturbance. The choice is mine. To breathe free of obligation, that is what it means to "be". To, Just, Be…..</span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Writing releases and organizes my subconscious. I desperately needed that right now. I needed to make the time to do it. But to dig myself out of this darkness I needed to do something structured. Life wasn’t going to change, so the only thing I could change was my outlook. I needed to get Back to Basics. A plan of how to get back to myself. Reboot this thing back into life. </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">And so I made a list:</span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-decoration-line: underline; text-decoration-skip-ink: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">The Basics</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Text</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Prayer</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Meditate</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Bible Reading</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Apply small things to improve your personality, day <span> </span>to day. </span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Relationships </span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Boys</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">- Manageable</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> routine of service.</span></span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Remember, You can sacrifice too much. </span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Meals</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Do Stuff with Hubby</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Take care of family</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Take care of friends</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Be creative, make art, write.</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">-Do something that you feel accomplishes something. <span> </span>A house improvement.</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Reminisce, write about Dad. Upload pics.</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Reconnect with friends</span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Write them, connect, even if its just a short hello.</span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">And, </span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">- Gratitude. </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Again.</span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>Guidepost #3</i> </span></b></span><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">wasn’t a single thing, but a series of little guideposts, nudging me along the way, tucked away in the back of my mind. I kept reading everywhere about the power of Gratitude. On the internet, in a daily text, in the publications. 3 things. 3 things kept coming back. Just think of 3 things. </span></b></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I guess it’s worth a try. I was floundering. So I started using an app that would remind me to write those 3 things down. Just simple things. They don’t have to be big. A flower, the warmth of the sun, a random smile from a stranger. Just 3 things that made me happy for just a moment. Doing this REALLY helped turn my thinking around. Helped me find joy again. I encourage everyone to do it! </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">My animals were featured often in my 3 things. I finally had a cat in my life again, and he brought so much simple joy to be grateful for. The softness of his fur. His youthful curiosity. His joy at discovering new things, how fun it is to make a bed with the sheets flying and folding above. The feel of the brisk wind coming in the door. It was all so exciting for him. Seeing life through his big yellow eyes was a delight. </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">Then there were other little steps I took along the way. Little steps to </b><u style="font-weight: bold; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><i>make</i></u><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> more joy. I made it my aim to find time to be creative in </b><i style="font-weight: bold; white-space-collapse: preserve;">any</i><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> form. I looked through all my old art. Appreciated it. Reflected. I dragged out a cross stitch I bought 20 years ago. The most complex one I ever bought. I started having breakfast and lunch on the deck, </b><i style="font-weight: bold; white-space-collapse: preserve;">making time</i><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> to enjoy a simple task like eating. Just musing about those things, </b><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b>consciously</b></span><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> </b><i style="font-weight: bold; white-space-collapse: preserve;">slowing down</i><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">, </b><i style="font-weight: bold; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><u>allowing</u></i><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> myself time to think. It was so refreshing. To "Pause and Reset".</b></span></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">This was the name of a talk by a grandfatherly brother. Accompanied by thought provoking images of creation, he lovingly reminds us that its ok to slow down and enjoy life. It embodies the thoughts and feelings I was trying to enact. It was so profound and affected me so deeply, I want to share some of those thoughts with you here:</span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">Happiness can be tricky. We all know people who by all standards should be happy, but they’re not. On the other hand, we know people who face many, many difficult challenges every day, but they seem to radiate happiness. Happiness is not dependent on things, on circumstances, or even on people. Because true happiness is not an end goal; it is a byproduct. Being joyful is an act of worship. Imperfect humans can lose their appreciation for things that become a routine part of life, even if these things are a reflection of God’s loving concern. Each festival the </b><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b>Israelites</b></span><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"> celebrated was a time when they stopped what they were doing, they would pause, and reflect on the blessings that they had received. What effect did this pause and reset have? One word — Gratitude. You know what happens when we feel gratitude? Happiness always follows. Gratitude reminds us that our Creator loves us and that he cares about us. It reminds us that God’s goodness exists even in the worst that life has to offer. Gratitude nullifies negativity. Gratitude is more than just a feeling, it’s a mind-set, it’s a disposition, and it’s a choice. We can make a conscious decision to see blessings instead of curses. Our Creator has bejeweled our world with daily reminders of his goodness, his power, but most of all, his love for us. All we have to do is take the time to look…..</b></i></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></b></i></span></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>Contemplate the abundance and the diversity of life.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>Drink in the awesomeness of the universe on a starry night.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>No two sunrises and no two sunsets are ever exactly alike.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>Look up to the clouds.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>What you see is ever changing.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>There was nothing exactly like it before, nor will there ever be again.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>The feeling you will experience is a refreshment of the soul; it’s a reset.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>Eyes see only light, and ears hear only sound; but a grateful heart perceives meaning.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>We perceive that God created all these things as a gift for us.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>That’s right; each day was to be a very special gift, unique unto itself.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>To make endless life not just special but amazing, wondrous, and always a joy.</i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>Connecting with God’s creation helps to discharge anxiety. It shifts our attention to something safe, something enduring, something outside ourselves. Gratitude is the ability to experience life, not as a test, but as a gift. It helps us to accept life’s uncertainties by reassuring us that we are a part of something larger, something everlasting, something immensely important. We are a part of God’s purpose. Let gratefulness flow from the inside out to others. It will liberate you from the prison of self-preoccupation. </i></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i><br /></i></span></b></span></p></span><span><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>We are never more than one grateful thought away from increased peace of mind and greater peace of heart. Just remember, to pause and reflect.</i></span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">It’s such a beautiful video!! I rewatch it here and there, to refresh my mind and heart. To remind me to be Grateful. Each time, it touches me. </span></b></span></p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia;">(If you’d like to watch the video and refresh your heart too, please message me at missionmelanoma@telus.net and I’ll send you the link.)</span></b></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 281px; overflow: hidden; width: 261px;"><img height="281" src="https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/YUulI00k8TJ9EKC_r-vMvU6hgPswgXSmgML9LqtQjIXllP5oZ4pnqr1z9MWBnMDH9qGvh5XOs1HwuCO5FN6yfe1UrVw7dW50wR9uXEJHsu2d5bfpFmqJgvmR-QVol9hixZlfJ8HEr_xsyPpO2cFd7CY" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="261" /></span></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">It’s now been 8 years…. Since I began cautiously living…… 14 years , </span></b></span><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">since cancer first reared its ugly head, and </span></b><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">my Dad died</span></b><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">. Both changed my life forever. But after forcing myself to slow down, to take the time to find gratitude and joy in the small things in life, I finally feel like “me” again. I found her! I remember her. She’s still there. And I am grateful. </span></b></p></span><span><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Is everything great? Is everything the way I want it? Am I bursting with energy and joy? Happy? No. I'm still tired. I'm still struggling. But I’m here! I’m home. I know myself again. There was a certain numbness before. I kept a wall up around my heart, out of fear that all of the emotions would spill out in one big mess. Now the wall is gone. How do I know? Because for the longest time, I couldn’t allow sentiment in. I couldn’t cry watching a movie, or hearing an experience, singing a song. I had to remain numb. But now? I actually mist up watching movies again! A song can make me cry big rolling tears. I wasn’t able to allow myself the luxury to do that before. Finally, that barrier is gone. And all the energy I once used to push down my feelings, can now be used to explore old loves. Books, Bible study, Writing, Art, Friendships. </span></b></span><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I’ve gained back some perspective. I’m not lost anymore. I can see myself more clearly in the bigger picture. </span></b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I can see good again despite the imperfections. </span></b></span><b style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">I see the stirring of warmth in the sunrise on the horizon. The faint glow of optimism. I just hope this break lasts long enough for me to write it all down, before the next curve ball. </span></b></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b></b></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheA-wre90ZY0nxeyOOQjdwQsb-5d9Pau08xM1t0exyiFSMgvMaPcpHhcFUUZ9SPgE7RBTSHyaGwzXjrHo8FKQujmiZ2omTKEh-vQqPEMSyJnvH1iGXzQrLLwtNS-rdcQx_sXUuhkxuEV9Nel0HUgdftRPBLp7gEsHoSJPSiLYUzl35Dgx9f0BVBUHTPfvf/s720/FB_IMG_1692670026918.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheA-wre90ZY0nxeyOOQjdwQsb-5d9Pau08xM1t0exyiFSMgvMaPcpHhcFUUZ9SPgE7RBTSHyaGwzXjrHo8FKQujmiZ2omTKEh-vQqPEMSyJnvH1iGXzQrLLwtNS-rdcQx_sXUuhkxuEV9Nel0HUgdftRPBLp7gEsHoSJPSiLYUzl35Dgx9f0BVBUHTPfvf/w320-h320/FB_IMG_1692670026918.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b></b></span></div><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><b><br /><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></span><p></p><br /></span>Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-20002125439039545832023-08-22T07:00:00.012-07:002023-08-22T14:29:13.790-07:00Chapter 12 - Guideposts to Gratitude<p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The next few years did bring us a move to a new house, the sale of my Dad’s, ......sort of…… and the changes did help for sure! But those years also came with a series of heartaches. </b></span></p><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia;"><b>One of which made me sob uncontrolled bent over, declaring through broken breaths that, I NEVER, wanted, to help someone spiritually again….. I was crushed. It’s too hard. It hurt too much. I gave everything. I give too much. And then I was left. Discarded. </b></span></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>This was huge for me. Generally I don’t cry. And I certainly don’t sob! I was broken. It was another type of mourning. I had always wanted to help people. And now helping people had broken me. So much of who I am had been broken down in different ways. I couldn’t do it again. All my efforts were for nothing. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Later I came to appreciate that maybe the Bible studies weren’t for my students, but for me. Maybe God gave them to me, <u>just</u> for </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">me</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">? To help me through the hard times. They had certainly done that. Been bright spots along the darkness. This thought made me cry yet again. “There's more happiness in giving” it says. But even that wasn’t enough to cheer me. When it came to helping anyone again, I was in a very negative space emotionally. I definitely had some PTSD. </span></b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>Then, a few months later, I met Guidepost # 2. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>We’ll call her Mary.</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>First time I met her, she finished our conversation gruffly and firmly with, “ You can bring me the magazines but I don’t want to join anything and I don’t want to go to any meetings”. Alright! Boundary clearly defined. I could tell there was something a little odd about her, not your average person. But no matter, she obviously had a spiritual interest. I would bring her some magazines then, with zero expectations. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">So for the next 6 months I deliver the mags without much fanfare. Then one day she invites me in. She told us a little about her life, some of the losses she’d had, some of her life challenges. I told her about a book I thought she might like that I could bring to her next time, she agreed, and then said matter of factly, “So then we can get together and study it together, when is good for you to come over, I’m free Fridays?” So </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">she</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> started her </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">own</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Bible Study!! </span></b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>And I laughed at God. “Good one! Good one….” I said out loud shaking my head. He’s a pretty funny guy. I said I would never study with anyone again cuz it hurt too much. Then he gives me this unique lady to study with who explicitly said on day one, she does NOT want to go to meetings. So I have literally NO expectations for her right from the start, except to feed her spiritually.</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>So we study every week. Like my other studies, she is a bright spot in the darkness. Her best friend had died a couple years ago, and she felt like she had been living life on hold since then. When I started coming to see her, she felt like God was nudging her to move on with life, get back on track, so she listened. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Again, there were times when I think God gave this study to me, to help </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">me</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, and not the other way round. But it was mutual. She needed me to balance and focus her spiritually, solidify her faith. I needed her to see a beautiful example of gratitude amongst great difficulty. I was constantly amazed at her outlook on life, her gratitude for the smallest of things. She was poor, living on disability, family issues, mental health issues, overcame addictions, didn’t have many friends, Yet she was sooooooo grateful for life! She was simply grateful to still be alive when she probably shouldn’t be. She was proud of herself. And rightfully so. She had overcome so much</span></b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>I had so much more, and yet here I was feeling bad for myself. What right did I have. She really did help me see that I needed to find more joy in life, find the good in the small accomplishments. I so love her. She saw God in everything when I was having a hard time seeing him anywhere. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><div><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjOANaZ0w6zqWB0ZelTwXK1lnPEFB_6JZ-Zl4R4pSGjMAvBerrhGlXSe6_1W1z_og57-tlnhBNq7XYejjb3kYpzkdHc-PmM9yV3dkCQnSGammo00LbD5dpBVn6AJoXrnl59297x1LmRbfC4-4aYDUNHmC4gI2HtQveH06wNfo4f8pBF0eug6BjSn7XhfP/s1080/Funny-Gratitude-Quotes-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrjOANaZ0w6zqWB0ZelTwXK1lnPEFB_6JZ-Zl4R4pSGjMAvBerrhGlXSe6_1W1z_og57-tlnhBNq7XYejjb3kYpzkdHc-PmM9yV3dkCQnSGammo00LbD5dpBVn6AJoXrnl59297x1LmRbfC4-4aYDUNHmC4gI2HtQveH06wNfo4f8pBF0eug6BjSn7XhfP/s320/Funny-Gratitude-Quotes-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></b></span></div><div><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>I was teaching her? No, ……….she was teaching me. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>“By iron, iron itself is sharpened. So one man sharpens the face of another.”</b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><div><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><a name='more'></a></span></div><br /><b><br /></b></span></span></div>Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-69966358614840165592023-08-20T18:07:00.005-07:002023-08-21T13:29:42.705-07:00Chapter 11 - Who Was I Before All This Began?<h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><i>I think I am fine…… </i></span></span></h2><span id="docs-internal-guid-cfbbcf73-7fff-392a-e4e8-a2db172ccba9"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Until I take a deep breath in, and it rattles its way out, like I've just been crying in earnest. Obviously my subconscious doesn't agree. Deep within, I am sobbing. Outwardly, I carry on as usual. I don't dare glance in its direction. I really don't have time for this now. Maybe next month. Maybe the one after that? Maybe.....just maybe, I will allow myself the luxury of feeling. So many years of sucking it up and carrying on. I'm not sure I quite know how anymore. I hope I haven't murdered my inner being with neglect and dismissal.</i></b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>I wrote this in July 2020. Five years after the chapter, “Cautiously Living”.</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>The road between pain and healing has been longer than expected, a real coaster of deep lows mixed with highs of progress. Some of the bumps were created by my own imbalance, trying to find my footing again after the pain. Not remembering who I was before all this began. Some were created by the caveats of life. “Time and unforeseen occurrences that befall us all.” But just as I needed to be an active participant in my melanoma journey, I needed to start being an active conscious participant in my journey back to myself.</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia;"><b>Who was I before all this began?? </b></span></span><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Before Dad died. </b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Before cancer?</b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> I needed to remember. To see what I would have done differently. So I know where I should be going, where I left off in this path. </b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>There were times when every day felt tiring, with no joy or reward, it was hard to see the good. The eternal optimist I once was, was dead inside. Beat relentlessly into submission by life, tragedy and disappointments. In all the trauma, I lost track of myself. Sadly, just surviving means I stopped doing joyful things, the little extras and nuances that make me, "Me". I now had the task of figuring out where I hid my inner being, deep inside, for self preservation. I just hoped I hadn't buried it so long that it got lost altogether. You know how you do that? Put something important in a "safe" place and then not know where that “safe place” is?!? I did that with my inner being. I needed to resurrect my optimism. But how does one do that? ?</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>One, step, at, a, time.</b></span></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="border: none; display: inline-block; height: 298px; overflow: hidden; width: 298px;"><img height="298" src="https://lh4.googleusercontent.com/8EJ8D7Xf_jPf1Zcf8kFCE39_pj6FLYguROR0j_NVi6QvJ925hvABlIK52C7cHDwz8_nA9jBjehubtMfDldYJCVoSN79VUQBthq7Ljm1za9GwTygyQKiVkgc97J4WfG1g9Q_Z14dp5BvfrRToT9VAW1g" style="margin-left: 0px; margin-top: 0px;" width="298" /></span></span></p><br /><br /><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>I will try to outline the steps I took to get this far. Maybe you will see some Guideposts for yourself along the way. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>So let’s rewind a bit....to when I saw my first guidepost.</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>I had finally buried my Dad. It took 5 years to feel emotionally “ok” with selling his property and saying goodbye. I fought long and hard to try and make it work, but it was too much. Too far. When he was alive, my Dad and his property were linked almost inextricably. It was so much a part of him. Letting go of it, was too much to bear. But enough time had finally passed that it didn’t resemble him the way it had. It was finally ok to let go. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>But selling wasn’t “simple” by any means. It had been a service station since the 30’s. I began the arduous process of getting an expensive environmental assessment, along with a large line of credit to fund it. I talked for hours on the phone, over many months with the ever so helpful enviro guy. Weighing the pros and cons of each decision. Not to mention the weeks spent getting the house ready to sell. It was a task to be reckoned with, but we got it done. The property was now up for sale, searching for that special buyer who would see it’s potential despite the environmental hickups. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>With the decision to sell made, and the wheels in motion, we also decided to sell our house. As "Cautiously Living" outlined, I needed change. There were beautiful memories in this house, of our boys growing up, friends and family who helped us renovate, but now, there was also much heartache. I needed a new pole marker in life. Instead of “5 years after Dad died”, I wanted to be able to say, “2 years after we moved.” So we started getting our house ready to sell. I had been feeling motivated and energetic for change, almost happy again. Finally things felt like they were coming together. All my sacrifice, heartache and years of work were coming together. I felt a new day dawning!! Hooray!! But…….. then, ……..it all kinda fell apart…. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>We found the perfect house to buy. A gorgeous old heritage house with a reasonable piece of land, a shady garden, and tons of character. It was my dream home. I commented once, that “I could die here and feel content.” It needed some “polishing” for sure, but the recent inspection the owner gave was great!</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Thing is, she only gave us the parts that were good. Asbestos, knob and tube wiring wrapped around old metal plumbing, ducting that wasn’t even attached in most places, an oil furnace that smelled like it leaked, a beam that wasn’t attached above the living room. It was truly heartbreaking. We had to walk away. I loved that house already. In my dreams, I had already hosted family dinners with my grandchildren there. I </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">still</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> love that house.</span></b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>One thing I have learned about myself over the years, if I don’t see a direction forward, or have a way to feel like I’m making progress somewhere, that’s when I start to lose it. I feel like a caged animal. Trapped. I was emotionally ready to leave, my bags packed and at the door, but my trip was cancelled. …….The house was ready to sell so there was nothing left to do there. Up Island was ready to sell, nothing to do there. Now what, Hurry up and wait?</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>This is some of My Journal from that time…..</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Depressed 1</i></b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>“ For the past 3 months I really felt positive, like I was being pushed to deal with this, move forward, get somewhere, have relief in a new place. New beginnings. Everything was coming together so well, so quickly……. Maybe I was finally getting blessed instead of just surviving? I thought maybe, providence had sped things up, so we can move on to the next phase, so we could finally do more spiritually. But now, I just feel stale, like I’m stuck in mud, slow motion. After years of trial, were my feelings of being finally blessed a hoax? A cruel joke?..... “</i></b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>“Expectation postponed makes the heart sick.”</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><div><span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>Enter Guidepost #1. </b></span></span><div><span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>In Dec, we got to see a favourite band play live. They always cheer me up! They’re so dynamic. But it wasn’t one of their upbeat songs that touched and lifted me, it was a simple, emotional acoustic song. I know the history of this song, why he wrote it, where he wrote it and how he was feeling when he did. He was feeling how I felt now. Stuck in life, disappointed. At the time, a friend of his told him to go down to a certain part of Toronto where people were “down on their luck.” To watch them and think. So he did. And he wrote that song while he was there. You could see how much meaning it still held for him as he performed. He was fully immersed. Emotionally tuned in & very much inside his own head.. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>While listening, it clicked inside me. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>I know losing the dream house was more than just the loss of that house. Not the real reason I was feeling so low. It was the culmination of so many losses. Just when I thought I was finally getting out.</b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b>This song put things into perspective for me. </b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>I shouldn’t be feeling regretful, I should be grateful instead. </i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>I could crawl up our willow tree or wallow and dread, ( the choice was mine )</i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>I could be everything, or nothing at all, </i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>but I needed to keep it together, long enough to trust, </i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>long enough to feel love. </i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Should the sky fall? well then I'll build a scaffold. </i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>I’m gonna build a new wheel, instead of fixing a slow leak. </i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>And when I put it all together, I'm strong enough to trust. </i></b></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><i>Theres nothing to be scared of. </i></b></span></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">We will rebuild, its just going to take a bit more time. In the meantime, I needed to be grateful for what we had. That I was “healthy” now. That the bulk of the work at Dad’s had been done. I was still far closer to the end than I was before. I needed to acknowledge and be thankful for that. There were 3 more journals labelled “Depressed” after this, so this definitely wasn’t the final leg home, but it was the First Guidepost, </span><span style="font-style: italic; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">My Guideposts to Gratitude</span><span style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">, which is what ultimately led me back to myself and the way out. </span></b></span></p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /></p></span></div>Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-20587214175961380882020-11-15T14:41:00.002-08:002020-11-15T14:44:32.249-08:00Just the Chapters<h1 style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #b45f06;"><u> New Page</u></span></h1><p><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><b>I can't get Blogger to add my new page to the shortcut links, so I guess I will make a post with the link to the page and see if it will let me add it another day.....</b></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><a href="https://missionmelanoma.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_15.html"><b><i>Here is the link to "Just the Chapters"</i></b></a></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-19533365641506055892015-12-15T15:01:00.003-08:002023-07-05T12:06:21.967-07:00<h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="background-color: white; color: #ff9900; font-family: "Fontdiner Swanky"; font-size: 30px; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal; margin: 0px; position: relative;">
Molescope</h3>
<div class="post-header" style="background-color: white; color: #4e2800; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.6; margin: 0px 0px 1em;">
<div class="post-header-line-1">
</div>
</div>
<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-3067334369820676128" itemprop="description articleBody" style="background-color: white; color: #4e2800; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; line-height: 14.56px; position: relative; width: 646.4px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwGPxHzSQaNgq3O8ESM8aCz-vw5yFPwp8KBmqvP55AErUHokuaUpMMPlW6Ii_NZiSBZ7sv9vcTuK_qXOCtFhyphenhyphenAIQmTPTt7VLsbuk5NbS3vwo0OSuvo-R25RRt4EBCtXHsnmhAc-LP4H2S/s1600/12341560_745839742188170_1182927256474333944_n.jpg" style="clear: left; color: #b5653b; float: left; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpwGPxHzSQaNgq3O8ESM8aCz-vw5yFPwp8KBmqvP55AErUHokuaUpMMPlW6Ii_NZiSBZ7sv9vcTuK_qXOCtFhyphenhyphenAIQmTPTt7VLsbuk5NbS3vwo0OSuvo-R25RRt4EBCtXHsnmhAc-LP4H2S/s640/12341560_745839742188170_1182927256474333944_n.jpg" style="background: transparent; border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="400" /></a><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"> <span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>I wanted to have a new page to highlight a company that has been very generous to me by letting me be a first user of their product for free and allowed me to give them my insight into their product and melanoma. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b> </b></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-cL13O8FRnZiVppp2tDZpiP0b6C7R_FPKs8Scn7LSTQENiNrWOwhjaJGqTDr0QeNJ7C9vnm2CPSxIxPV7RWFnE3SoddsYpv8YltC3Jamezqhz0vdwzICnJIPm6vOKnoQBs-NHNTp2kyl/s1600/flyer-product.jpg" style="clear: left; color: #b5653b; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-cL13O8FRnZiVppp2tDZpiP0b6C7R_FPKs8Scn7LSTQENiNrWOwhjaJGqTDr0QeNJ7C9vnm2CPSxIxPV7RWFnE3SoddsYpv8YltC3Jamezqhz0vdwzICnJIPm6vOKnoQBs-NHNTp2kyl/s320/flyer-product.jpg" style="background: transparent; border-radius: 0px; border: 1px solid transparent; box-shadow: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.2) 0px 0px 0px; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>One of the things you need to do as a melanoma patient is regularly check your skin and moles. I used to do this with a ruler, circle ruler template, a camera on close up setting and numerous papers with blank body outlines that I could mark with pencil and arrows with the size and description of my moles. It was a bit messy and disorganized, although I tried! It took awhile to find my pictures and see if there were changes, or if a mole was new or not. And the pictures often turned out blurry. Lighting and shadows were an issue. </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Then the developer of a molescope approached me and asked if I would like to use their product and give them feedback. A molescope is a device you attach to your phone to take very high resolution photos of your moles with correct lighting. The pictures are so clear and far more detailed than any I was ever able to take. And the app allowed me to track where on my body the moles were. Over time the app will let you see the time progression of your moles to see if they have changed. What peace of mind! </b></span></span><br /><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b></span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm-cL13O8FRnZiVppp2tDZpiP0b6C7R_FPKs8Scn7LSTQENiNrWOwhjaJGqTDr0QeNJ7C9vnm2CPSxIxPV7RWFnE3SoddsYpv8YltC3Jamezqhz0vdwzICnJIPm6vOKnoQBs-NHNTp2kyl/s1600/flyer-product.jpg" style="clear: left; color: #b5653b; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration: none;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b></b></span></span></a><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #783f04;"> Link: </span><span style="color: orange;"> </span></b></span><span style="color: orange; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://molescope.com/product" style="color: #b5653b; text-decoration: none;" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">MOLESCOPE</span></a></b></span></div>
<br /><br />Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-80194262763684685252015-03-11T11:55:00.006-07:002023-08-20T18:44:24.478-07:00Chapter 10 - Cautiously Living<h3>
</h3>
<h2><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm thinking
about living again. Pining for it. Actually planning for the future. This is
kind of a new thing after 5 years of simply surviving. But its also fragile. I
am reminded of that every once in awhile. How close I am to the edge of the
pit. Yes, you know the one, the "pit of despair". Where all is
lost, nothing goes right and all goes wrong, ALL of the time. Or thats
how it seems anyway, in the moment. Thankfully the hopeful times are outliving
the “pit”iful times. Only time will reveal whether my ground hog days of “normal”
are hovering on the horizon or doomed to another bought of blah.</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span></span></h2><h2><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am
approaching my second "canniversary". Two years since my last
diagnosis. This is a first for me. I could never quite make it past one year
before. Havent been this far down the road. Its a bit springlike. Spring in
coastal BC anyway. Maybe a bit early, a bit tentative, but hopeful. Problem is,
there's still the possibility of a sudden cold snap. An uncalled for snowfall
in April that would cover their pretty hopeful flower faces, freezing them into
submission.</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Thats where
the whisper of caution comes. Why it only takes dark clouds on the
horizon and a hint of frost in the air to send me into a puddle of tears. But I
am hopeful despite my broken optimism. I am pretending the future is bright,
actually planning for it to be better. Maybe this year will be our year
of transition. The start of something new.</span></span></h2>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqWdsyoOF9OtFFnxFeZQCbNHv6I0ttR4PIKmhzbUZm063ua9pHXCQKAl6bjVHJSVbaCNdI5tDT-h5mh6QxG9WiKYtmUz9dwEzhsqvhU9_kVvA7NDZWkzLkuyD_cbhxJOpNWEo6QWub-wc/s1600/1231441_10201914282329503_1927378449_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIqWdsyoOF9OtFFnxFeZQCbNHv6I0ttR4PIKmhzbUZm063ua9pHXCQKAl6bjVHJSVbaCNdI5tDT-h5mh6QxG9WiKYtmUz9dwEzhsqvhU9_kVvA7NDZWkzLkuyD_cbhxJOpNWEo6QWub-wc/s1600/1231441_10201914282329503_1927378449_n.jpg" width="246" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As me and
Mike sat talking over the smell of hollandaise sauce, discussing our plans,
Mike said, “It feels like we're starting over, a new life". Heaven knows
we need a new start. Can we Please put this behind us? I want our reference
points to be, a year before we "moved" instead of "4 years after
Dad died", or "after my third melanoma"...... How small yet significant
that is. We use reference points all the time. But until the markers all
become tainted by sadness, we don’t notice them that much. They are usually
happy things. Weddings, births, vacations. So we are making a new reference
point. We are moving. Not far. But hopefully just far enough.</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We are
leaving this house we have grown in for 14 years. Its the only house my boys
have ever known as home. It has grown and changed as much as they have. There
is only one surface in this entire house that has been left untouched. 4 walls
in my youngest sons room. Thats it. The rest have had varying degrees of
improvement, from paint to complete removal and creation.</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Our house is
old. And I do mean OLD. But good "old". We have square ship nails in
our first growth wood, 10 inch walls and plumbing on the outside, because it
was an after thought. It was unloved for a long time, but we brought it into
its beauty. Gave it the character it deserved, as an old lady with charm should.
But its time to say goodbye. You gave us a place to start, a home to grow in,
but its time to find more peaceful pastures after these 5 years of pain.</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It feels
right, divinely inspired. Last August, when we finally laid my Dad to rest
under a Dogwood tree to find new life, it felt like a completion. Everything
came to fruition. A meeting of crossroads. It was a strange month. I met people
from Dad’s life I hadn’t seen since his memorial. We had a nostalgic run of
excitement at the garage with a water leak, a backhoe, a gas line and fire
trucks. It felt like Dad was around again. There was always some excitement
going on at the garage when he was there. And there hadn’t been that much
excitement in awhile. Strange as it seems, it wasn’t overwhelming, it was oddly
comforting. One last hurrah!</span></b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></b></span></div><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;">This gave me
the fortitude and closure I needed to move on. Let go. Allow what Dad had given
me, to help us go forward. It couldn’t have happened any sooner. I wouldn’t
have had the strength or energy. Physically that was impossible. Just the thought, raised a massive concrete
wall before my eyes. But now, it felt like it was ok. While I slept one night, someone took the
wall down. I had the ability to move on
to step 539 of this Long process. I knew there were going to be another 126
steps to go, but dog gonit, I can actually see the finish line a ways off there
in the distance. Please Dear God, give me the strength to get there. To reclaim
my life once more.<br /> <br />The past 6
months have been chock full of man hours and changes. When I think of all I’ve done, it’s hard to believe it’s
just 6 months. I have felt driven. One of my newly discovered scriptures is
"For God is the one who for the sake of his good pleasure energizes you,
giving you both the desire and the power to act." Phil 2:13. I feel that
energy! I have felt it sustaining me these past 5 years and I feel it moving me
now. And I would not have survived without it. I can finally see the future
peaking over the horizon, and I’m finally going to be able to use my power for
the greater good, not just for surviving. </span></h3>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0KfGVG_jSr-cMD49Zf9Gyadu6KItFfQH-lyxGHo3vkIsTDnlnnEJEFtqfvJC7pT89-nBs_ILRp4R6LFBU5okXkGmon76oFA0FB2te0lcINis2mUNqi9izS53W0JDn3lGkjESACXLsUew/s1600/12070_550954721678358_506635983_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjs0KfGVG_jSr-cMD49Zf9Gyadu6KItFfQH-lyxGHo3vkIsTDnlnnEJEFtqfvJC7pT89-nBs_ILRp4R6LFBU5okXkGmon76oFA0FB2te0lcINis2mUNqi9izS53W0JDn3lGkjESACXLsUew/s1600/12070_550954721678358_506635983_n.jpg" /></span></a></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Published March 11, 2015</span></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-88477300903608110352014-04-08T11:35:00.005-07:002023-07-05T12:17:03.760-07:00Positive for the CDKN2A Gene<h4>
<b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large;">Update!</b></h4>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>
I got the test results back from my Genetic Testing. It is confirmed that
I have the CDKN2A gene. That means my Melanoma is totally Genetic. Which
I pretty much knew already, but now it is confirmed as to which gene.
There still are probably other genetic factors at play, but this is one
that researchers are aware of.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br />
<span style="background: white;">Problem is, this gene comes with
the possibility of an increased risk for Pancreatic cancer.<br />
So now I have to decide whether I want regular screening for pancreatic cancer
and if we should get the kids tested or not. <o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br />
For the kids, the Dr. said they are at risk or melanoma either way, even if
they don't have the gene, and need to be regularly checked by a dermatologist.
But... it is a question of whether we do it now or wait till they are old
enough to make that decision themselves.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="background: white; mso-fareast-language: EN-CA;"><br />
</span>As for the pancreatic thing,
Pancreatic screening isn't simple. It requires an endoscope through the
digestive tract. And then there is the possibility of false
positives. But pancreatic cancer is a messy one. The statistics are
outrageous. 95% of people diagnosed die within 5 years. 75% in the
first year. 1 in 79 of the standard population will get pancreatic cancer and
apparently now I am at greater risk. <span style="background: white;">yay .</span> Good thing is, the Dr
was optimistic about the pancreatic cancer since no one else in the
family has had it. But then again, of my family members who have had
melanoma, Me, my Mom and Aunt are the 3 out of 6 that are still
kicking. And my Aunt and Uncle who had melanoma, no longer have any living
children. So that isn't a whole bunch to go on. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br />
The Dr. is going to be sending out a letter I can give to my family so they can
see the value of having testing done and decide whether they want to have it
done. Just for research purposes it would be helpful. Since this is
still a fairly new avenue of science and there's much to learn. It would give
them much more data to work with and then be able to apply to other
families. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br />
At the end of our conversation, the Dr asked me how I felt about knowing the
results. It's twofold, a bit disturbing and also kind of relieving. If it
wasn't positive, that would mean I still didn't know "which" gene was
affected and the search wouldn't have been over. It's just too bad it had to be
one that carried other risks with it. So the ongoing health saga simply
continues, it's just the now I know which path its on. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #783f04;"><br />
Click for more info on</span> <a href="http://www.dermnetnz.org/pathology/melanoma-genetics.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">Genes and Melanoma</span></a></b></span><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #783f04;">Click for info on the</span> </b></span><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 1.1;"><a href="http://www.screeningbc.ca/Hereditary/default.htm" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">Hereditary Cancer Program in BC</span></a></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<br />
<div>
<span face="lucida grande, tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-size: medium; line-height: 18px;"><b>Published Apr 8 2014</b></span></span></div>
<div>
<div>
<span face="'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 12.7273px; line-height: 18px;"><b><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-79023225734312742762014-02-17T18:04:00.005-08:002023-07-05T12:18:03.810-07:00Chapter 9 - Cancer Free Depression<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Of all the
chapters this one has been the hardest to write. The others just came and
flowed naturally, where this one came like a small boat in choppy waters. A
little disjointed and nauseating.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I think the
problem lies in the completion. The others were written after the fact, looking
back on memories. Where this one is a current event. I guess it’s easier to
write in hindsight. The present is often so unclear. Unresolved. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Right now I
find myself ebbing and flowing, in and out of the depression that comes from
being "cancer free" or what the melanoma world refers to as
"NED". No evidence of disease.
I have come in and out of NED the way I have come in and out of this
cloud. I told my husband the emotional forecast: slightly overcast with sunny
breaks and intermittent black clouds. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Up until now, I
have written mostly of what brings me up, keeps me going, but I’ve had my dark
days hiding in my room. There are days when my anxiety made me impatient and
abrupt. But dwelling on the low points isn’t what gets your through. So I have
chosen not to explore them very deeply so far. I wanted to give hope by
my words. But the time has come to share some of the bleaker feelings
too. It is part of life. Part of my life. Part of what I am experiencing right
now. Part of loss. Loss of health, loss of loved ones, loss of
"normal". (Whatever "normal" is anyway. )<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I know “Cancer
Free Depression” sounds like an oxymoron, a contradictory statement, but to my utter
surprise, it was the reality I found myself in just a few short weeks after
hearing the wonderful news that my lymph nodes were cancer free. “Depressed?!
What in blazes! But I’m cancer free! NED! How could I be depressed?!” I think some of it stems from life being put
on hold. The problems you had before cancer
seemed not so big anymore. When the cancer
is supposedly gone, you imagine life will be so much better now, like a fairy
tale! But all those things you put on
the backburner, suddenly come back to haunt you. All the paper work you put
off, the projects around the house, are still there. Life is still there. Sigh.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>So what do you
do when you find yourself depressed and cancer free. You look online of
course. To my delight and dismay, this
was apparently normal. Stating the
obvious, one article reminded me, “You HAD CANCER”, not the flu. "The physical and mental shock of having a
life-threatening disease, of receiving treatment for cancer, and living with
repeated threats to one's body and life are traumatic experiences." The fallout
from that is huge. The good ole “Mayo Clinic” had this to say, “<span style="background: white;">Recovering from cancer treatment isn't just about your
body — it's also about healing your mind. So take time to acknowledge the fear,
grief and loneliness you're feeling right now. Then take steps to understand
why you feel these emotions and what you can do about them.” E</span>ven though the cancer hasn’t killed
you, cancer still kills a small part of you, the part of you that feels safe.
The invincible spirit we all carry somewhere inside us, it’s gone. There is grief in that loss. And with grief
comes depression. <span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>After my first
melanoma, I still had no idea how serious it could be. The optimism surrounding
skin cancer almost makes you feel foolish for being worried at all. Thankfully, many <i><u>can</u></i> get melanoma and just walk away. They blissfully allow themselves
to share the outlook the majority of the world has, "Just cut it out” and all is well. I am happy for those that are spared the
trauma of knowing how close they came to having life hang in the balance. Once
upon a time, in Round 1, I was one of them.
It was traumatic, but not earthshattering, it was a blip on the radar
that went away. Certainly, it was a larger blip than average, but still….. just
a blip. I thought I knew melanoma and I truly
thought that would be the end of it. “Chapter
done, move on”. Melanoma was supposed to
be just one chapter in the book of life, not a book in itself. I am still hoping this will be a short story,
and not a novel. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Any kind of
cancer makes you feel unsafe for a certain length of time, until you’re considered
“cancer free”. Till then you are on the watch, hyper aware of your body, each
pain, or lump. Is it back? With
melanoma, that time period is horrendously long. For most cancers it’s a 5 year
benchmark. But with stage 2A melanoma, my odds actually go down after 5 years. For me, that means 80% survival in 5 years, and
60% btwn 5-10 years. That seems so backwards. Shouldn’t it go the other
way? Even 10-25 years later there is
still a 7-11% chance it will metastasize! I won’t be considered “cancer free” till 25 years or more of being NED then??? That is, <u>IF</u> I don’t get any more primaries in the
meantime. NED,no evidence of disease, doesn't mean cured, it just means, not
in active battle. It’s a life sentence, no early parole. That’s far too long to live with a shadow
hanging on the sidelines. Do you “have” cancer, or is it past tense, “had” cancer?
NED is neither really, its somewhere in limbo land. </b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDeajUhdiiarusoemm2N5hjgdhcSm-d9Q5TRPHoCS0O9-DFyedGQRYjz1pj0lihOh7D7RSf6SR3y6rVfkybCmYhvDyIX88UbCG2rexa78_dn4dtPMuvuRsOrAjAoRv2o_EDmtOULyac7Rl/s1600/MjAxNC01ODQzYzZjNTJhMDhmODFm.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDeajUhdiiarusoemm2N5hjgdhcSm-d9Q5TRPHoCS0O9-DFyedGQRYjz1pj0lihOh7D7RSf6SR3y6rVfkybCmYhvDyIX88UbCG2rexa78_dn4dtPMuvuRsOrAjAoRv2o_EDmtOULyac7Rl/s1600/MjAxNC01ODQzYzZjNTJhMDhmODFm.png" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shapetype
id="_x0000_t75" coordsize="21600,21600" o:spt="75" o:preferrelative="t"
path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" filled="f" stroked="f">
<v:stroke joinstyle="miter"/>
<v:formulas>
<v:f eqn="if lineDrawn pixelLineWidth 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 1 0"/>
<v:f eqn="sum 0 0 @1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @2 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @3 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @0 0 1"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @6 1 2"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelWidth"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @8 21600 0"/>
<v:f eqn="prod @7 21600 pixelHeight"/>
<v:f eqn="sum @10 21600 0"/>
</v:formulas>
<v:path o:extrusionok="f" gradientshapeok="t" o:connecttype="rect"/>
<o:lock v:ext="edit" aspectratio="t"/>
</v:shapetype><v:shape id="Picture_x0020_5" o:spid="_x0000_i1026" type="#_x0000_t75"
style='width:315pt;height:220.5pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\PAMBUS~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image001.png"
o:title="MjAxNC01ODQzYzZjNTJhMDhmODFm"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Once you get
this deep, literally 2.45mm, melanoma never truly goes away from your life. It
is an ongoing concern somewhere in the back of your mind. Most people don't casually check their lymph
nodes on occasion, just to see if there is any latent pain hiding there, or an unidentified lumpiness. But I do. Most
people don't see a Doctor every 3 months to check for cancer. I do. Most people
don’t have skin removed on a semi regular basis. But I do. If the medical
community thinks every 3 months is necessary that kinda makes you a little more
wary yourself. Others have described how before every check up, they worry whether
a new one will be found. Then if none are found, they worry it might have gotten
missed. And if one is taken off, then you wait to see if it’s bad news. Sure
you say you will put it in the back of your mind, pretend it isn't there, but
your anxiety level speaks differently, and your patience level tells a
different tale. Your sleep is a little
less easy. Your mind a little scattered. But you put on the happy face and
pretend it’s all ok. This game will go on at least once a year for the rest of
your life. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>But why should
you worry so much? Melanoma is one of the “good” cancers right? That’s what
your Doctor will tell you if you catch it early. I will let the facts speak.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>A 10mm cancer of
other sorts, is stage 1, the very treatable kind. On the other hand a 10mm melanoma is
tantamount to a death sentence. A 1
millimeter melanoma tumor (one-tenth the size) already carries a significant
risk of having spread. In fact, I was
surprised to find out that the survival rates for stage 2 melanoma are the same
or worse than for stage 3 breast cancer. The overall 5-year survival rate for
patients when detected early, is about 98%. It falls to 62% when it reaches the
lymph nodes, and 15% when it metastasizes to distant organs. And it can grow
and spread very quickly compared to other cancers. Once spread internally,
melanoma is very difficult to treat, since it doesn’t respond to conventional
cancer treatments. For stage 4 melanoma patients, that’s the last stage, the
American Cancer Society recommends this: “Because stage 4 melanoma is very hard
to treat with current therapies, patients may want to think about taking part
in a clinical trial.” Experimental
treatment is your best option? Yikes! That is daunting. There is no “usual” treatment plan per say. So
even though it is easily preventable and easily treated at its earliest stage,
it is not one to mess with. You don’t want this cancer to get a foot hold. You
want to catch melanoma at stage 1! Even then, you can go from Stage 1 NED to being voted most
likely to die, within those 3 months between you scheduled Doctor checkups. If you were faced with this as a possibility,
would you be worried? Would you want to be informed of new treatments when they
came available?</b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErEoHgNGXgpeiUoOpmHVhaL5cfRpeYQAUHGeCMTZ3hjKAEntsZNeiyjiOGcGSh-AUiBK9mYQ0x9QmvHrbpH_GtuepaK5Wt3dXk592StSx-_qv8WhnVrjSGpL2eRUizJyhyphenhyphenEVMUaZyys_R/s1600/melanoma+vs+breast+cancer.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErEoHgNGXgpeiUoOpmHVhaL5cfRpeYQAUHGeCMTZ3hjKAEntsZNeiyjiOGcGSh-AUiBK9mYQ0x9QmvHrbpH_GtuepaK5Wt3dXk592StSx-_qv8WhnVrjSGpL2eRUizJyhyphenhyphenEVMUaZyys_R/s1600/melanoma+vs+breast+cancer.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #4e2800; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: large; text-align: justify;">(Thankfully since this post advances have been made in Melanoma treatment providing more hope for later stages. Now there are treatment plans other than "drug trials". Immunotherapy and other drugs. Hooray for researchers!! There is still work to do but at least there is an action plan. :D)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>After round 1,
the depression and the shame came and went within 6 months. Then I began to
live again, feel “normalish”. I still felt a sense of safety, and control. I thought as long
as I kept up my skin checks, all would be well. I would just catch them all early.
But after round 2, safety was blown out of the water. I was realizing how
serious this was, the stats were no longer so sunny, and control was become
slippery. But Six months seems to be my personal yardstick for the depression
period, and I felt myself getting past it, feeling a teeny bit safe again. I was ready to tackle the next coming years, thinking
of moving forward. But melanoma had a different plan. I had barely gotten the chance to catch my
breath when round 3 began! <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Have I told you
about Round 3??????? <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Feb, 2013, at my
regular checkup. Dr. Derm is doing his usual looksee, in the cute gown and conscientiously
warm room. Totally routine. “Are you wearing sunscreen? Taking Vit D? How much are you taking?” He moves aside the gown from my “gluteus” area
and pauses. Then squats. Then gets out his measuring tool. Then his special light and magnifier. He has been looking at my buttocks for an
uncomfortably long time. Then he says, “I’m just going to put a bit of water on
this one, sometimes it helps me see it better” More magnifying, more pausing.
“Can you lay on the examining table for a moment?” Then ……..“I’d like you to make an appointment
to have that one removed, it has grown significantly in the last 3 months”. Awe man…….<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>When I felt it
later, the offensive mole, it had texture, just like my first one. People tried to console me by saying it was
probably nothing, but I was sure, 99% sure, this was another melanoma. When I looked at it in the mirror, it looked
like a piece of dried raisin stuck to my butt.
Dried raisin attached to your skin isn’t good. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I was so
disheartened when it came back as my third melanoma. This CAN’T be good. I could see the statistics sinking in a downward
spiral. The numbers have been stacked the wrong way round. I was winning every
small number lottery. Only 10% of melanomas are hereditary. This one certainly was not caused by the sun!
Only 6% of melanoma patients get a second primary. Won that one! Twice! I don’t want to win the small number lottery
with this disease. I’m not a gambler! How did the numbers get stacked this way
round? I felt, and still feel, like a walking time bomb. Problem is, I don’t
know how long the fuse is, and there’s no way to check. With control pretty
much out of my hands, I could feel depression laying down on me like a heavy
blanket.</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1rcL-3ZNnG9fHlgmdZqCnbmFnAtQwHA-umSOv3xGVydMVXc6EhnZHFCVxKxbSKUVqYmxPnda53JFp6FxOUL_lawcGj-oOfOLatV9ZQed0iQc99T3yVBGxaN8_K62ZIxR38M5esQo3YRT/s1600/602081_10201968277999361_2078053057_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1rcL-3ZNnG9fHlgmdZqCnbmFnAtQwHA-umSOv3xGVydMVXc6EhnZHFCVxKxbSKUVqYmxPnda53JFp6FxOUL_lawcGj-oOfOLatV9ZQed0iQc99T3yVBGxaN8_K62ZIxR38M5esQo3YRT/s1600/602081_10201968277999361_2078053057_n.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<!--[if gte vml 1]><v:shape
id="Picture_x0020_3" o:spid="_x0000_i1025" type="#_x0000_t75" style='width:260.25pt;
height:346.5pt;visibility:visible;mso-wrap-style:square'>
<v:imagedata src="file:///C:\Users\PAMBUS~1\AppData\Local\Temp\msohtmlclip1\01\clip_image002.jpg"
o:title="602081_10201968277999361_2078053057_n"/>
</v:shape><![endif]--><!--[if !vml]--><!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>As I felt myself
sinking into darkness, I did what I have always done, I turned to the “pen” for
healing. Words are my friends. I love
words. How they have such deep meaning, nuances and shades. The further I delve
into their rich history, the more I appreciate them when used properly. Words would become my friends and comfort.
And sharing them with you has made those words have life and meaning. It gives meaning to the meaninglessness of
this experience. Of cancer. So I started to write. It was the only way I could put a sense of
control to the uncontrollable. And it was a savior. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I turned to
talking to you. I shared my words and thoughts on my blog. Now I needed to know the beast I faced,
inside and out, and I shared the information I found on my facebook page. I did this for myself, and for you, in hopes
that I could provide understanding, and give the gift of knowledge. Maybe my understanding and knowledge could give
you the power to determine a little piece of your own life. Maybe I could help
you cope by seeing what has helped me. </b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>In my research, I found out that half of
<u>all</u> cancers are preventable. I also
found out that of all cancers, skin cancer is the most preventable. Sadly, I
also found out how misunderstood and underestimated skin cancer was too. I wanted, ….no,
I needed, to talk to someone. As the
opening of my blog says: </b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>“In Round 3 of my battles with Melanoma, I have
decided to no longer sit on my hands. It’s just too much. I needed to let it out
of my "skin". Be an active participant in this cancer thing, instead
of just hoping it will stand at the doorway and leave me alone. And so I will
write……….”</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "serif";"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: medium;"><b>Published Feb 17 2014</b></span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-16316220383201128432013-07-08T16:42:00.002-07:002020-11-16T09:27:22.275-08:00HOPE<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>Chapter 8 - Hope</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>I Made a page just for Hope. My Hope. </b></span><br />
</span><div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>I know everyone has different hopes, but I wanted to share mine with you in case you might find some HOPE in it too!</b></span></div>
<div>
<b style="color: orange; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div>
<b style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><a href="http://missionmelanoma.blogspot.ca/p/hope.html"><span style="color: orange; font-size: large;">missionmelanoma.blogspot.ca/p/hope.html</span></a></b></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-26861816564142131032013-06-20T13:26:00.001-07:002020-11-16T09:26:18.507-08:00Chapter 7 - Broken But Blessed<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>The last 3 years have been hard on us. It started like a TV
show, in the middle of the night, at precisely 2:59 AM. The door
bell rings. As you climb your way out of sleep, wondering if you really
heard the doorbell, it rings again. Who on earth could that be? It
Can’t be good. I quickly pushed on Mike, who only groaned and rolled
over, so I decided to brave it on my own. Looking through the peep hole I see
two men in uniforms. It’s the police. Maybe it was a break-in?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>"Is there someone else home with you? You should go
get them." <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Now I know this <u>really</u> "can’t be
good!" As I go get Mike, thoughts run through my head.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b> "Who do we kn</b></span><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">ow that the police would come to us for?
My Mom? No, they would phone Mark, not me, ..... "</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Then the officer begins to talk, "Is Wade Davis your
father"<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>More thoughts race in my head "oh, no, Dad! Is he ok, sick,
no police don’t come for that, hurt, was it...." <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>My thoughts are interrupted by, "I'm sorry to
inform you, he was involved in a car accident, .... he didnt survive."<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>How the breathe just leaves you in that moment. "How?
Where?" He tells us some of the details. Phrases like, flipped multiple
times, thrown from the car, caught on fire..... Horrific..... I feel the need
to sit. The kind policeman leaves. Nausea sets in. At this point there aren’t
any tears, just shock. Until I think of waking the boys, and telling them their
Grandpa has died. All the things he was bursting to teach them, he won’t get
the chance to do that now. That’s when then the tears came.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>The shock of a sudden death is numbing. I couldn’t
even think of what to put in my suitcase. What do people pack? Wandering
aimlessly in the bedroom looking at drawers blankly. Then driving up island at
5:00 to go to the police station for his things. Vastly out of the norm. What
followed was even more numbing. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>5 weeks later my Grandma died. It was at her memorial that I
picked up my Dads ashes. Too close, far too close.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Besides the emotional fallout that has come from my Dad's
death, which has been huge, his property was a nightmare to deal with. Nothing
goes smoothly it seems. Let me get out my list, the list of lamentations.....
He was partly renovating the house at the time so things needed to be done,
there wasn't even a furnace, we needed a new roof on the garage, the hot water
tank went within just a week of his death, we had hassles with the ex over
RRSP's, a problem with the ownership of some of the property, even a threat to
sue his estate! Not to mention the sheer mountains of stuff. And its not the kind
of stuff you can just throw in the dumpster either. My Dad was a mechanic
and an antique collector. We didn't even know what some of it <i>was</i>.
It took us 3 years just to get the bulk of it sold and straitened away. And
don’t forget, we still had our own lives to live, our own business to run. I
barely had a moment to grieve. And then, plopped down in the midst of it all, 6
months after my Dad was gone, ……… I got my first melanoma……….Then another………..
then another………then a recurrence scare. This is where I am now. 3 1/2
years later. Forever changed.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>I was always an eternal optimist, with an idealistic view on
life. I tried to see the good in everything, no matter how hard it was. I could
find the rainbow in just about anyone or anything. But life in the past 3 years
has altered that. It turned me into more of a realist, something I never
dreamed I was capable of! I mourn the loss of my internal optimist. But it got
broken. Every time I started to feel my optimism breaking forth from its cage,
a new trouble would come and beat it into submission. So sadly, I just began
assuming things wouldn’t go well, I’d kinda gotten used to it. If it can go
wrong, it seems to go wrong round here. Just a grey cloud hanging over our
lives. I began to accept the cloud’s presence. But in the strangest way, the
acceptance of becoming a realist, also felt enlightening. Like a right of
passage into adulthood.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>All of these trials have taught me about survival, the
ability to find joy, genuine inner joy, from giving of yourself, despite your
own circumstances. It showed me who I am deep down inside. That who I have
tried to be and thought I was all these years, is <u>really</u> there,
not just in my head. For in adversity you show who you truly are. What your
strengths, are. I found out, that in the face of any obstacle, I am never going
to back down. I will not let that lion win. I will not turn inward, and become
selfish. The harder he pushes the more I push back. And I have done so without
losing my integrity. That isn’t to say I haven’t had my moments of shame, I
have, but on the whole, I have maintained my integrity and been true to myself
and my moral compass. That is an inner joy that can never be taken away from
me.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>I now know the true meaning of these words: “Nothing can
separate us from God. Who will separate us from the love of the Christ? Will
tribulation or distress or persecution or hunger or nakedness or danger or
sword?...... For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor
angels, nor governments, nor things now here,
nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any
other creation, will be able to separate us from God’s love….” Rom
8:35,38,39<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">The story of Job doesn’t seem as farfetched now. I am
feeling a bit Job-like. He suffered as a good man. I hope to at least aspire to
do the same. Even if I lose my life, I am not really losing it, as long as I
keep my integrity as he did. This system will never break my desire to help
others, and be there for my friends. It will never stop me from sharing my
knowledge and spiritual understanding with others. By giving, I have found
solace. In my darkest days I have found peace in teaching others the beauty and
hope for the future. Things will not always be this way. There will come a day
when no resident will say I am sick. My studies were truly a gift from God that
helped me survive. I thank him for them often. They have helped me become
stronger spiritually than I have ever been before. And I can thank adversity
for giving me that. I have been broken, but I am blessed. And so I guess I am
still an optimist, just a different kind than I used to be. </span></b></span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVtxr54rZ9CdUlDKPSTrK0Xl3L2NyMZughiUItle4uHM_l4twMfIrI4dw13xCGvodxLnQ74n0smXEKWSpIJ6v5rvGCvne6aT-H4ex4qUdpeJfyF58CBE1RVVtodiBh96RN6ZmzwpJaVHL/s1600/526387_10151371993487196_108430083_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCVtxr54rZ9CdUlDKPSTrK0Xl3L2NyMZughiUItle4uHM_l4twMfIrI4dw13xCGvodxLnQ74n0smXEKWSpIJ6v5rvGCvne6aT-H4ex4qUdpeJfyF58CBE1RVVtodiBh96RN6ZmzwpJaVHL/s400/526387_10151371993487196_108430083_n.jpg" width="283" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-53682963138598082212013-06-17T14:57:00.001-07:002013-07-04T20:02:42.568-07:00My Fight Back Speech at Relay for Life - Westshore - 2013<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/ekaCswvg06s" width="480"></iframe>Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-48673552165251997082013-06-10T17:14:00.004-07:002023-07-05T12:47:25.881-07:00<div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; mso-line-height-alt: 13.1pt;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Last week, I found a
painful lump under the skin at the site of my second melanoma. My dermatologist
had me in to remove it within a day and half! Whenever a Doctor wants to do
things that quickly, it makes you nervous. I‘m now waiting for the results to see if the
melanoma has recurred. If it has, that’s
bad news. It means the chance that it has spread, or will spread further
internally, is much higher. So, My
battle continues. </b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; mso-line-height-alt: 13.1pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; mso-line-height-alt: 13.1pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; mso-line-height-alt: 13.1pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Update:</b></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm; mso-line-height-alt: 13.1pt;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>It was clear! Yay!! Since then, I have had to have 2 more lumps removed out of caution. It seems my body doesn't like the internal stitches. Even after 7 yrs, it still created a granuloma around a previous stitch. Another day, another scar. The fun just never ends hey?</b></span></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-69586165008235462572013-05-21T15:00:00.001-07:002023-08-20T18:46:37.335-07:00Chapter 6 - Who's to Blame for this!?<br />
<h4>
</h4>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b>The Blame Game. From the beginning, we have been blaming
others. When Adam got caught eating
fruit from that tree, his response to God was, “The woman you gave me, she gave
me fruit from the tree and so I ate” How
quickly he turned to blaming Eve. Even blaming
God himself, for giving him the woman! We
always seem to point a finger. To blame someone or something outside of
ourselves. </b></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b>So who can I blame?
Who’s to blame for my getting melanoma? The Sun? The Ozone layer? Genetics and My Pale Skin? The
processed foods? Maybe a malevolent spirit
creature out to get me? I know, it was the Doctors! So many people and things
to blame!</b></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">The sun is an easy target for blame. The Sun and Melanoma go
hand in hand, and rightfully so. When I think of the sun and my youth, there is
one picture in particular, that comes to mind.
It’s one where you see my sunkissed cheeks, ruddy from a full summer of
romping outside in the wide open skies of Alberta. As a kid, I wasn’t one to
burn. Both my hair and skin simply turned a beautiful shade of golden brown. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 21.8182px;">Looking through the photo albums, every winter you would see pale Pam, and every summer, a shade of mocha Pam. But a</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">s
I got older, and learned of melanoma at age 12, I stopped going in the sun
quite so freely. I didn’t avoid it completely, but I didn’t seek it, or tan
in particular. Thankfully I was never one to be very vain. But now, after my
years of using the “no sunning” policy, I turn pink before I brown.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">I guess my “immunity “ to the sun’s rays is
gone. Or maybe its just all those CFC’s we put into the air! Was it the sun’s
fault, those years as a kid doing what kids do? Before mom’s had even heard the
word “sunscreen”? For many, the sun is to blame.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">But not for me.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">My melanoma’s have
shown up in places that didn’t see much sun. And one of those spots, has </span><i style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><u>never</u></i><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"> felt the suns warmth! So I
can’t blame the sun. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;">I respect the sun.
I am grateful that I wasn’t a sun worshiper. But, it isn’t to blame. Genetics
must be the culprit.</span></b></span></h2>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3n0QG8iKrny_DxtmUgcfPwJ5zZT8J7cF5mXhbelDlstxCY2kqyWYsMye0KlTf2ekVyQg7xJjjKvBjPkvUIpu-pUWmRiuOj86cqiSvrBrKy8SzxgEv40KZ6BPawsbELEI6Zuw5HgDaiVIj/s1600/135646_1699387615342_3926383_o.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3n0QG8iKrny_DxtmUgcfPwJ5zZT8J7cF5mXhbelDlstxCY2kqyWYsMye0KlTf2ekVyQg7xJjjKvBjPkvUIpu-pUWmRiuOj86cqiSvrBrKy8SzxgEv40KZ6BPawsbELEI6Zuw5HgDaiVIj/s320/135646_1699387615342_3926383_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: medium;">"Winter Pale Pam" Versus</span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: medium;">the first day of school in "Summer Brown"</span></b></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAB2YYiNIK1Kob5raIeCME3V8teRlqjXDxz22t544aRX-fiePsc35zD-VZ16bVvP0diIZy1m3YuprCyO12YpNVruuTTvW0IEVSWViYxKDDEtD139v3p_EnFMuO0I0J44rJHGU0sEUge2v1/s1600/21-05-2013+02;15;59PM.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="371" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAB2YYiNIK1Kob5raIeCME3V8teRlqjXDxz22t544aRX-fiePsc35zD-VZ16bVvP0diIZy1m3YuprCyO12YpNVruuTTvW0IEVSWViYxKDDEtD139v3p_EnFMuO0I0J44rJHGU0sEUge2v1/s400/21-05-2013+02;15;59PM.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<h2>
<span style="color: #783f04;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b>Genetics fascinated me from the very first time I learned
about them in Grade 10 Science class. That
was the year I fell in love with biology.
The way two people’s “gifts”, pieces of themselves, combine to become
the crapshoot of who you are. The shape of your nose, the color of your eyes
and whether your second toe is longer than the rest. I especially enjoyed the play of statistics
and the exceptions that invariably occurred.
The fact that so many red haired and blue eyed people exist is intriguing,
when the genetic odds are against them.
My Mom’s family was an example of this statistical anomaly. Her mom had
auburn hair, her Dad had dark. You
would think out of 6 kids, the chances of a red head would come out as the underdog,
but only one of those kids came out dark! Now we all know that red haired people have a
genetic predisposition to getting melanoma more easily. But genetics are
sneaky. Cuz it was the dark haired Dad,
and his dark haired son, that got melanoma first! Followed by only 2 out of the 5 red headed
siblings. One of which is my Mom. And my
hair is brown, even darker than my Dad’s. So that’s 3 for brown and 2 for
red. The red hair be darned, there are
no sure things in the world of melanoma. You can’t blame it on the hair.</b></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b>Ok, So if its not the hair, it must be my pale skin. My Mom has pale skin and freckles. The kind
of freckles that are sprinkled lightly all over, giving the impression that she has a darker
skin tone than she actually does. My
skin is different from hers though. I don’t have any freckles at all! Instead I
am blessed with many moles. My Mom was
spared this blessing. Me, well, I have many strange and various colored mis-shaped
brown spots. The kind of which, on anyone else, would have the derm reaching
for his scalpel. But for me, they are “normal”.
So where did I get my mole issue? Maybe
from my Dad?? My Dad was pale too! Although I never saw him burn. He was one of those men that had a permanent ”farmers
tan” from working on cars, pumping gas and building things in the yard. One summer he put on shorts. The whiteness of
his legs was truly brilliant, the sun
reflecting off the pristine whiteness of skin that hadn’t seen the light of day
in over 10 years. But I don’t recall
seeing even one mole or blemish on his skin, other than the ruggedness of his
face and hands from years of hard work.
So it isn’t just the skin color, its deeper, it’s in the cells, the
basic structure of how well they grow, divide and rejuvenate. There is where the flaw is. It isn’t in a
gene you can see. It’s in a hidden gene.
One that I know my dear mom, wishes she hadn’t unknowingly shared. One
that I hope I didn’t share with my own boys.</b></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b>But I need to do more than just “hope”. I am trying to hedge
their bets. I have heard that twins, who share exactly the same genetic makeup,
will not necessarily get the same cancer, even if they are genetically
predisposed to it. That is where the environmental factor comes into play. Less
sun, more sunscreen, less stress, more Vit D. Then there’s food. I have always felt we ate fairly healthy. Choosing whole grains, and 100% juices. But after your
world is shaken by something that threatens your very existence, you start to
look at things a little differently. Instead of a treat, a donut becomes a
sugar laced poisonous ring of cake. The
plastic popcorn maker, is now a machine that is leaching chemicals into each kernel.
You start reading labels, inspecting your shampoo for carcinogens. And the more
labels you read the more you see how terrible the choices really are. Stuck
between a rock and hard place. Suddenly the organic market doesn’t seem so
expensive. If you are what you eat, then I guess I too am broken down and
devoid of nutrition. In this fast paced world, where easy meals are almost a must, it makes it very hard to eat the whole foods the nutritionists say we should be
eating. It feels like the world is against me, trying to poison me slowly with
its faulty foods and chemical laden plastics. Maybe the whole cosmic system is
to blame!</b></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b>So what about the cosmic plan? The power beyond? Have you
ever felt like someone was just out to get you?
Someone you don’t know? Some call it Murphy’s Law, fate, or luck, or
even cursed. That your number is just “up”. But sometimes it just feels
personal. And it has felt personal
lately, so relentless. Maybe that is where part of the blame lies? I have a name for “It”. “It”s name is Satan. Now
regardless of whether you believe Satan is real or not, for all people, that
name symbolizes the incomprehensible bad that we see on this earth, the pain,
the injustice, the ugliness. The Pandora’s Box of pestilence in the world. And in the past 3 and half years, I have felt
like I am in Satan’s crosshairs. That I must be doing something to draw his attention
my way. Beating me down at every turn. But
I won’t let him win. This world will not break me or my spirit. My health and
my own problems, won’t ever stop me from helping others. Only death will stop
me. Having an enemy to battle, an enemy with a name, gives me somewhere to
focus the bad that has come my way. And it doesn’t matter whether he is truly to
blame or not, because it gives me a place to put the anger, and the negative
feelings. A place to put some blame. I can put them there in my “Satan box”. Then, Unburdened,
I have the emotional freedom to go on living
my life, without anger or resentment, to be the healer, the helper, and now the
advocate. No matter what! I will not give in to my enemy. A vastly lesser god.</b></span></span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b></span></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b>And what about those other “god”s? You know the ones, the ones
with white coats and stethoscopes. Yes,
Doctor’s! They should certainly take
some blame. There’s an easy scapegoat.
The ones with all the supposed knowledge. With education sprouting out
of their heads like giant headdresses. How did my Doctor not see it in all his
great wisdom and experience? I remember during
the waiting period, waiting to see if it had spread to my lymphs, I said to
some of my friends, “If it is in my lymph glands, I’m going to be angry. Because
if it was up to me, instead of the Doctor, I would have had that mole removed a
long time ago!“ Now there are a few
flaws in this statement. First of all, this is before I had done such exhaustive
research on melanoma. When I thought that a clear lymph test was a sure ticket
to being “OK”. Before I realized that lymph or no lymph, it could still rear
its ugly head at any time and take hold, growing from a tumor the size of golf ball to a baseball within
weeks. So either way I am angry it got
to stage 2! Second of all, Why on earth did I allow another human being, even a
Doctor, control what I did with my own body?! Yes he should have been more
cautious, and aware. Yes I could have been given more information. I shouldn’t have to get information from the
internet instead of my Doctors. But I
learned the hard way, that when it comes to health, there is no room for
politeness, for being shy or giving way to fear, worrying that you will hurt his
feelings if you question his opinion. This is Your Life! I should have just done it when I was worried, 6 months earlier. That is why I write my story. So some of you
won’t make the same mistakes I made. I want you to be educated, I want you to
know what to look for, and to have the courage and knowledge to advocate for
your own body. I want you to have that “thingy” removed, no matter who’s pride
it may harm! Know your body, own your body, take charge of your own health, so
you have nothing and no one to blame. </b></span></span></h2>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b> </b></span></span><br />
<h4>
</h4>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-7684295543796848282013-05-13T11:55:00.002-07:002013-05-30T15:20:17.946-07:00Melanoma - BEYOND the ABCD's<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="color: #783f04;">On Melanoma Monday, Me and my Mom did a presentation on Sun Safety to Outdoor Park Workers in Langford. I have posted two pictures from my presentation on my </span><a href="http://missionmelanoma.blogspot.ca/p/blog-page.html"><span style="color: orange;">Melanoma Facts Page.</span></a></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Here they are!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2_WArNnZ70odnIdBlMGdbHl-K6yGT3Hnhaw1QmIyRVpCVi1JdfInEtBb4BvIeLwRCtALLyEVPPUje8zinnkGi_NeguSsutGhYtccG-gXeJ9cd-DRIxSTa_xoA5ZXWalIMKeyCULuYIaW/s1600/nodular+melanoma.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2_WArNnZ70odnIdBlMGdbHl-K6yGT3Hnhaw1QmIyRVpCVi1JdfInEtBb4BvIeLwRCtALLyEVPPUje8zinnkGi_NeguSsutGhYtccG-gXeJ9cd-DRIxSTa_xoA5ZXWalIMKeyCULuYIaW/s640/nodular+melanoma.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KCfAwzejjqe0PuFCIwyS-uWggxbC0hJgEvH2W5Tkavl2okmBJcr9P3FtMHms0HRRFyO_bu82sJsoEsOx05l_EZdFoT57UeT9nqPYsMurdg9Lx18tFuvvB2IbT5_EfXxYTCtWOYyv1tmb/s1600/superficial+spreading.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8KCfAwzejjqe0PuFCIwyS-uWggxbC0hJgEvH2W5Tkavl2okmBJcr9P3FtMHms0HRRFyO_bu82sJsoEsOx05l_EZdFoT57UeT9nqPYsMurdg9Lx18tFuvvB2IbT5_EfXxYTCtWOYyv1tmb/s640/superficial+spreading.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-52609040946443785052013-04-17T12:43:00.003-07:002013-05-30T15:20:40.934-07:00New Videos!<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>I have some new videos on the video page. VERY good! Please watch these.</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>:)</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<a href="http://missionmelanoma.blogspot.ca/p/blog-page_2.html"><span style="color: orange; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>Click here for Video Page!</b></span></a>Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-17808227270886119842013-04-16T02:50:00.001-07:002023-07-05T13:03:58.778-07:00Chapter 5 - Round 2<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After you have had melanoma you get put into the wait and
watch mode of health care. Depending on
how "bad" your melanoma was, it can either be every 6 months or every
3 months. I was in the 6 month category.
The routine is as follows: Go into the
little room, take everything but your undergarments off and put on your
fashionable blue hospital smock, with full ventilation out the back end. My derm keeps the room at a very warm
temperature, which is a thoughtful touch. He's a little bespectacled man from <st1:country-region>Ireland</st1:country-region>,
with striped shirts and bowties. His appearance made me like him instantly,
even though his manner is abrupt and he doesn't talk anymore than he has to. I
felt confident in his opinion.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">He did a more thorough check of my skin than any other derm
I have had before. He inspected my spots
with his magnifying glass and special light. Wrote on a little human shaped
diagram the location and size of some of my more dysplastic moles. I have a lot of them! He ran his hand along
the scar on my back, looking for lumps under the skin. It can return, hidden in the scar tissue, he
told me. Every visit he queries whether I am wearing my wide brimmed hats and
sunscreen. Are you taking Vitamin D? Is
there any moles you are concerned about?</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Yes, there is, there is one.
I had noticed a new mole on my arm.
It was med sized, round, light brown and raised. It didn't look very harmful, but I thought I
should point it out, since that is what I am supposed to do. I felt kinda silly showing him such a benign
looking little thing, but I did. The derm's
quick dismissal confirmed my feeling of foolishness. In my head I knew that raised moles were
nothing to worry about. His confident rejection confirmed my thoughts. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">6 months later, it had grown some more, started gaining a
few new colors. So at my next melanoma
screening I pointed it out yet again. He
took a look with his special light and magnifier, measured it with his handy
dandy circle measuring thingy and declared that it hadn't grown and was still
only 5 mm wide. "Oh it has
definitely grown!" I said. It just
hasn't grown side to side is all. Again, his firm rejection comforted me. As I left, I asked, "if I wanted it off
anyway, what would I do?" "Ask
your family Doctor to do it, just make sure it gets biopsied." Ok. I
was just disliking this little growth on my arm. Not the prettiest thing you ever saw. I might
just do that!</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I thought about getting it off. But you know how life gets
away from you. And six months goes by
entirely faster than you think it will. The
little brown bump has now grown to a size that my husband has started calling
it my third nipple. ( hope that doesn't
offend anyone!) I was determined that
this time, whether the derm said so or not, I was getting this hideous growth
off my body. But his interest in my
growing lump had grown as well. He spent
quite a long time looking at it with his magnifier and light. Mumbling about
not liking the color of parts of it. He
got the other Doctor to take a look as well.
</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Finally! It has been declared for removal!!! I have never
been so joyful walking into a doctors office to get a piece of my skin
removed. Not a bit of anxiety this
time. I was chatty and happy. There were two student Doctors there to
watch. The derm explained to them facts
about melanoma and how much further ahead they are in <st1:country-region>Australia</st1:country-region>.
As I listened to him, I was actually enjoying myself, and feeling even more
assured of the vast knowledge my derm had in the area of melanoma. I smiled as I walked out the door, with 5
stitches in my arm. I almost
glowed. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After that I didn't really give it much thought. Until a couple of weeks later. That's when I got a call from the derm
himself. It is amazing how many thoughts
can cross thru your brain in a short 1 minute conversation. First of all, you instinctively know it isn't
good news when the derm himself is on the phone, instead of the secretary. So you know its cancer. But quickly followed by that realization,
comes the sureness that we must have caught it early. Especially since I have been under the close
care of an excellent derm. I remember being quite proud of myself for even
thinking to ask what stage it was. Was
it "in situ", or maybe stage 1?
But then he said something I wasn't prepared for. He said, "we won't know till we've
tested your lymph glands."
Woah! The word "lymph"
echoed around inside my head. I don't
quite remember how the conversation ended. My mind went a little foggy after
that. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">After my first diagnosis with melanoma I had done a quick
internet scan, to see what was out there.
I did run across the whole radioactive dye lymph thing somewhere, but I
brushed that off as something that happens to other people. People who didn't know about melanoma, and
what to look for. Because surely I would
catch any melanoma loooooonnnng before it got that far. Especially since I was
seeing a good derm every 6 months!!!!! But my faith in my knowledge was
seriously flawed. I had never heard of
nodular melanoma. The kind that grew
fast, down, and was often round and raised. My research didn't take me that
far. There was a gap. A gap that I fell into. A gap that apparently even my
derm fell into. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The next two months were dreadful. It was in those 2 months that I lost 3
friends to cancer. It was in those 2 months that I got to play the waiting game. Mike described it as the feeling you have
just as you are about to crest the top of that first hill on a roller
coaster, you hold your breath, just as
it crests...........accept that you are just stuck there,
...................waiting............... and waiting.............. waiting to
know if this ride is going to get worse or better from here on in. It's a ride
that too many of my melanomates are familiar with. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4FRfpTN-W8z-9Yv0_QbMWSBL7GA_Qdppa4p_aV_TLycNYl3k5yIhuDgVBA_affSMmGDuiiCasKnRAND-UBxBCGadV2d1lL6edV9WIakWvIftCdQW6l-YRogtxY81RhLGRIGOo-hPNZXUj/s1600/roller+coaster.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4FRfpTN-W8z-9Yv0_QbMWSBL7GA_Qdppa4p_aV_TLycNYl3k5yIhuDgVBA_affSMmGDuiiCasKnRAND-UBxBCGadV2d1lL6edV9WIakWvIftCdQW6l-YRogtxY81RhLGRIGOo-hPNZXUj/s320/roller+coaster.jpg" width="320" /></span></b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Back to visit my friendly neighborhood plastic surgeon, Dr.
D. If I thought his words scared me last
time, this time they made me nauseous. There was a longer conversation about
the possibility of needing a skin graft. Then there was the discussion about my
odds. This is where I got the most
honesty from a Doctor. He didn't try to
placate me with a statistic. He said he
could tell me I have an 80% chance of surviving 5 years. But that isn't always
true. Sometimes he tells people they
will be fine and they aren't. Sometimes
he tells them to arrange their affairs, but they continue to live. There are no guarantees with this beast. It
is unpredictable. He told me that the Doctors
still don't understand melanoma very well. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Thank you for your honesty Dr. D, for telling me like it is,
instead of saying it will all be ok.
Thank you for making me realize the uncertainty that I face, so that I
<u>Can</u> face it. Instead of maybe being walloped with it later and being less
prepared. Thank you for letting me be proactive, to change things I can, and do
it now, so that if things go the wrong way round, I will go down knowing I did
my best from here on in. The alarm bell has sounded. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The last day of school I had my surgery. As the kids had fun
day and games, I wallowed in anxiety.
Thankfully my surgery was later in the day, I'm not good at mornings.
Still, I arrived at <st1:time hour="9" minute="30">9:30</st1:time> to get all
the testing done before the surgery.
The volunteer lady explained all the places I should visit and the best
order to visit them in. A chest xray, a
blood sample, a visit to the nuclear radiology department. NUCLEAR radiology? Yep.
This is where they inject radioactive dye into your arm around the site
where the mole used to be, and then watch to see where it goes. Thing is, I thought they did this while you
were under, not fully awake! I think
every doctor I saw figured the other doctor had explained this or that, when in
fact no one really explained much of anything. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Nuclear radiology, doesn't sound like the most popular
place. It sounds downright daunting. But I went in with hopes that this would
be quick and easy. Otherwise the Doctors would have warned me right? The nurse put a patch on my arm to numb the
area where they would inject the purple colored radioactive dye. Then its into
the room with the big scarey machine. They have a warm, I mean, a really cold
metal table for you to lay on. And its a
lumpy narrow table at that. I think when
they designed it, they must have forgotten there was going to be a human
inside. Then the nice Doctor says he is going to inject the dye. It will
hurt. Ok, brace for it..... Yowzas!! Hurt
is a bit of an understatement. I just about jerked off the table. I don't think
the little patch thing worked so good nurse lady. Ok , step 1 done, on to step
2. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">The machine tech lady moves the "comfy" table
closer to the machine. I look up at the
large square above me. This should be
ok. Then she says it will take about an
hour for the machine to track the dye as it works its way to my lymph glands.
Ok, still ok. But then, she tells me she
is going to move the machine down closer.
As it moves closer and closer and closer, the words "an hour"
becomes extremely long in my head, I start to panic. If the tech lady saw the flash of terror in
my eyes, she chose to ignore it. What to do, how do you not panic for an hour
stuck in a metal machine? Music!! Sing a
song in my head! La la la la la. Yeah,
that's not gonna work, I can't think of the lyrics of songs when I'm <u>Not</u>
sandwiched in a radioactive tracking metal contraption. What else, what else, before I totally lose
it.... come on..... think.....think.....got it!
My dream house. I can feel the
anxiety start to lift just thinking those words. I can continue my dream plan.</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">I took structural drafting in college and in my mind I have
been building my dream house for years, my <st1:place>Paradise</st1:place>
home. Now where did I leave off, .....
aw, yes, the stairs. If I put in one of
those hidden "servant" staircases that makes a shortcut stairway to
the kitchen, then the stairs would have to be on the other side of the hallway,
hmmm....... I take a peek at the machine as she lowers it even closer. Holy Frog King! its like an inch and a half
from my face!!!! ........ stairs, stairs, ok stairs, if the stairs were on the
other side then the playroom off the kitchen would be slightly different, and how
would I get the window seat in the stair landing?.............and this is how I
made it through the hour in my metal coffin ride. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">All in all the surgery went well. The Doctors were both nice
and comforting. It took the anaesthesia
guy three attempts at the IV though. I
guess I have wiggly veins that collapse. Hurray for me! And after taking a
second look and pinching my arm skin, Dr. D declared that he shouldn't have to
do a skin graft. Its the only time I was
glad I didn't have skinny arms. He drew strange crooked lines on my arm with a
purple marker. Not sure how that's gonna
pan out, but your the plastic surgeon! And I've seen the amazing results of
what they can do on peoples faces. I do trust both these guys. The lymph
surgeon and the plastic surgeon are both young enough, hip enough, and competitive
enough, to want to do their best. About 5 hours later, pale, weak and slightly nauseous
they sent me to the car in a wheel chair. Done Step 3. Now for the waiting. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">It takes about 3 weeks for the lymph test to come back. That's
practically a month with your life in the balance. If its positive in more than
3 nodes, I am stage 3. That means more surgery, chemo, and my odds of survival wavering.
If its negative, I am stage 2, 80% survival in 5 years. So the outcome is
important. And waiting is hard. You try
to pretend its not bothering you, not consuming you, carrying on the best you
can, (with one arm,) doing everyday things. But life is just not everyday. And the scar
that was left behind is quite knee weakening at first sight. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Me and Mike made the mistake of changing the bandage for the
first time, just before a meeting. The look on Mike's face was enough to know
it wasn't good. He turned a shade of
green. When I looked in the mirror, my first thought was, "<i>THIS</i> is plastic
surgery?!" It looked like a butcher had been at it. And the shape was so
odd, like Zorro had left his mark on me. I couldn't believe how terrible it looked. But
I sucked it up. We redressed it and went
to the meeting anyway. Where else would I want to be? At home isolating myself,
left alone with my thoughts? No. Distraction
is just what I needed. To be with those
that care about me. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Again, in sadness, I found beauty. The beauty of an understanding look and a
squeeze of the hand. Shared tears without words. Such comfort. One sister came up, a sister I
knew was having troubles of her own. I
told her about the "mistake" of looking at my arm. She just took my
hand and said "Its gonna be ok, its gonna be ok" and cried next to me
for a moment. Then she left. But in that
moment it gave me release from that feeling, allowed me to carry on, and go
forward. Beauty in sadness. Its always
there when you put yourself in the right place. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Three weeks finally came.
The moment of truth. In a few
moments from now are we going to be sighing a huge relief or holding our
breathe yet again? The nurse must have
been used to these kinds of situations.
She poked her head in the room, while we waited for the doctor and
said. "It was all clear! The lymph nodes were clear!" How lightening those words were. Such weight gone. I don't know what the
weather was like outside, but it felt like a clear summer day in that office
with no windows. I could hear birds
singing in my head. Such relief. Round 2
is over. Finally over. </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Sorry! but I have to post this. </span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">This is melanoma, </span></b></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></span>
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">this </span></b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; line-height: 19.4886px;"><b>is what it </b></span><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 19.4886px;">does. </b><br />
<b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 19.4886px;"><br /></b>
<b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 19.4886px;"><br /></b>
<b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: x-large; line-height: 19.4886px;">Is it "just" skin cancer?</b></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHON3xCDQ46lUo2H9cTEtgofHrL2Cif0bHHt-5kBLB1mxVRq3qJ-uvcVvDlj9s8gevFhfNPxwoKrCUmlXeKHLZN1Hzu12U0_L4unoLrXv-yQASYLtnQlhfLCYGWohcdH_HDK28Ekpy3VG5/s1600/014+(640x800)+(512x640).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHON3xCDQ46lUo2H9cTEtgofHrL2Cif0bHHt-5kBLB1mxVRq3qJ-uvcVvDlj9s8gevFhfNPxwoKrCUmlXeKHLZN1Hzu12U0_L4unoLrXv-yQASYLtnQlhfLCYGWohcdH_HDK28Ekpy3VG5/s320/014+(640x800)+(512x640).jpg" width="257" /></span></b></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><br style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;" /><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;">This was about a week after surgery.</span></span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;"><br /></span></span></b>
<br />
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;">It actually looks </span></span></b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px;">a lot </span></b><b style="color: #783f04; line-height: 19.4886px;">better here than the first time we saw it. </b></span><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; line-height: 19.4886px;"><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; line-height: 19.4886px;">And I need to give credit to my plastic surgeon. What to the layman looks awful, to the trained eye was amazing work. I have had many Doctors and medical professionals say what a great job he did. And he himself was pleased with the results. When I eventually found out what he physically did to cover the area removed, it really is creative. It's called a " flap rotation procedure" if you have any interest in looking it up. And I am grateful for the work he did on my arm, and my other many surgeries with him. </b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-86104093437951026592013-04-02T09:56:00.004-07:002013-04-08T17:11:26.313-07:00Chapter 4: Is Cancer Contagious?<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">For awhile there, I think
people were beginning to think our Hall was contaminated somehow.</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Is Cancer contagious?</span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">Was it in the water, the seats, or heaven for
bid, airborne! </span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;"> </span><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia; font-size: large;">It sure seemed like it
round here!</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Not long after my first small
round with cancer, we got the news that a good friend was diagnosed with colon
cancer that spread to his liver. It
didn't sound good. They didn't widely
advertise the extent of his cancer, but it didn't sound especially
promising. Richard has a family with 2
kids. It's always harder when there are kids involved, the loss would be so
much deeper if it went the wrong way round.
But through it all, their family was a stellar example, always helping
others, rarely missing a meeting. It just shows that sometimes, just by your
presence, by carrying on, you can encourage others. I applaud them wholeheartedly.
<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>Next came dear
Johnny. When we first moved here and we met
Johnny, I said to Mike, "It is going to be a sad sad day when that man
goes." He had already won my heart. Shy and gentle, so kind, he always
took the time to say hello and ask, in <u>all</u> sincerity, "how are
you?" He didn't say much, but what
he did say, was genuine. Asbestos was his enemy. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I guess since it looked
like so much fun, we got a whole crop of joiners. Within 3 months of Johnny's
diagnosis, we added 3 more to the growing ranks. Jim was the next
inductee. Jolly, smiling, greeter Jim. I
was constantly amazed at how a man with such big hands could create such
beautiful fine woodwork. He swapped painting for doing our cupboards. Almost
exactly one year ago, he told me how he was going to the doctor to see about a
pain. He figured it was his gallbladder. Or at least that's what he was telling
people anyway. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Now for </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lorraine</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Georgia;">. I sigh deeply as I write her name, a mist in my
eyes and a lump in my throat. What a truly sweet and caring woman. She was a Gramma to everyone. With what
little she had, she was always trying to share it with you. Full of life, humble as can be. She was
family to us. Family by choice. For a year she was trying to figure out why she
felt sick all the time. Finally she found out, lung cancer. "But only
stage 1!" she said with optimism.
She was more worried about me. Cuz you know, I couldn't stay out of this
club.<o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The empathetic person that
I am, I couldn't have all these people feeling alone. Besides, round One didn't
make me feel like a full member of the cancer club anyway. Had to make it more
official. Between Jim and </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lorraine</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Georgia;">, was when I got my phone call.
You know the one.....the one that makes your world stop for a moment. The
one where melanoma and lymph gland were mentioned in the same sentence. The day
I stopped feeling safe. <o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I got my diagnosis one
week before Jim passed away. He didn't even know what kind of cancer he had
before it took him! Too fast, entirely
too fast. But I am glad he didn't suffer
long. He was in so much pain. His memorial was surreal and strange. With my own
life in limbo, I have never been to a memorial with the perspective I came to
this one with. As I sat there listening
to the talk, I seriously considered what my own might be like. What song would
they sing,? Who would come? What pictures would they show? What stories would
they tell? Would I have enough time to plan some of it myself? What a strange thing indeed. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>But within the sorrow, I
also felt needed. I was close to so many of his family members, I felt like I
was able to comfort them in a real and significant way. When a friend feels comfortable enough to cry
in your arms, to share pain and anger, you know you did your job as a friend,
that your place here on earth is a worthy one. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>A few weeks later it was
Johnny's turn. His daughter said the sun set beneath the horizon just as he
died. A fitting symbol for a sailor to
make his way out of this world. We got
to visit him in the hospital a week before.
Much smaller of a man than he was, and there wasn't a whole lot of him
to begin with. I could tell he found joy
in our visit. As we left, I told him we would come again, but I knew this would
probably be our last. He was going to a better time and place now, a time where
he will be young again. I look forward to meeting you again Johnny, when you
are young once more.<o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">The week of Johnny's
memorial is one that will stick in my head forever. What a horrowing week. I
didn't even get to Go to his memorial. I was laid out on a table having my
lymph glands removed and my arm being cut and patched. The same day, our dear </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lorraine</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> was in the same hospital for her lung
surgery. And Richard was due to have his
very risky liver surgery 2 days later. One stop shopping. Sunday morning we got
a call............... </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lorraine</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> had died suddenly the night before....... Smack!! You have got to be
kidding me!! She was just about to go home! It seems a blood embolism made it
to her lung. So unfair. It felt like robbery. <o:p></o:p></span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I am constantly amazed at
how in misery there is always light. That Sunday meeting was the most
devastating and comforting I have ever been to. Our congregation was being
beaten, and beaten hard. So much loss in such a short period of time. And yet
we were all here. We didn't stay home.
We were where we belonged, with each other, our extended spiritual
family. The talk, the study that week,
the timing was perfect. As brothers and sisters made comments, their voices
were choked with emotion, but we were together. Together. We weren't letting
anything drive us apart. If anything, it was driving us closer together. <o:p></o:p></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Another memorial to go to.
Another life to remember. More family
and friends to comfort. Too much, yet we
carried on, gave </span><st1:state><st1:place><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Lorraine</span></st1:place></st1:state><span style="font-family: Georgia;"> the consideration she deserved. It was in the
midst of all this that I got to play the waiting game. Waiting to see if the cancer had spread to my
lymph glands. I'm not sure we could really take anymore bad news. We were
saturated. Those 3 weeks were so verrrrrrrry long. No more, please no
more...........Thankfully we had a bit of a drought in the bad news department.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"><b>I hope my words won't
sadden you too much. But I felt is was necessary to set the scene, to know the
climate in which we were in. These
people, these events, are all tied up in my own experiences. It is hard to
extract one from the other. It was
needed. And they deserve to be remembered.
I refuse to allow them to be eclipsed by my own struggles. They are part
of it. By being there for others, you are able to deal with your own trials. It
only proved to me how dear our congregations are. It demonstrated how, we will beyond a doubt, carry each other through.</b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-57268533448056976102013-03-17T20:01:00.003-07:002023-07-24T13:17:08.533-07:00Chapter 3: Pity and Shame<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I wanted to explore the
"Shame" of getting cancer a bit more.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The need to hide our disease. Cancer has so many faces, effects you in
so many different ways.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Many bad, but
some good. So I guess the shame stems from many things as well. Some bad, and
some good. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I don't know if everyone gets
to the place I am in, the place where you need to share despite
misgivings.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe it is because I am a
writer at heart and I finally have a real story to tell. A story that might actually
help others, for I am a healer at heart too. And if by my sharing, it can open
people's minds to the thoughts and feelings of cancer sufferers, I would like
to do that. If by sharing I can help other cancer patients feel a little less
alone, and that their feelings are normal, I want to do that.</span></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b>For me, some of the shame of
sharing was simply not liking the attention or pity. I was worried when I started writing to you
guys, that some of you would think this was a cry for attention, to get
sympathy. That is the farthest thing
from my mind. I do, not, in,
any, way, shape,
or form, want this to be a pity party! So lets just get that straight right now! Got
it? Good. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Sometimes I just don't want
to be a Debbie Downer. Who wants to talk
about Cancer!? It's sort of taboo. You hide your scar, get a different bathing
suit so you don't gross anyone else out by your appearance or, heaven for bid, someone
asks how you got the scar! Then if you
reply that it was from cancer, you fear the reaction. Is it going to be pity?
masked horror? silence? You hope it will give you the opportunity to just give
others the heads up. Something to put in
their thinking cap. But there are a lot of Ostriches out there, who would
rather keep their head in the sand than consider the possibility that life is
fragile. You don't want to invade their comfy little ostrich hole. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Part of it is just not
wanting to deal with it yourself. If I don't admit it, don't talk about it,
maybe it isn't as real. Maybe it will kinda
go away. Some days, you just don't want to be a cancer patient. You just want
to be normal. But even that phrase,
cancer patient, leads to another issue. I don't feel like a "real"
cancer patient or a "survivor". It's the old, skin cancer isn't real
cancer problem. Melanoma patients are put in a cancer class all on its own. I
read a book written by a fellow sufferer, Michael Antcliffe. He did tile work
and at one of his jobs, the lady of the house mentioned that she was a cancer
survivor. His boss commented that
Michael was a cancer survivor too, from melanoma. Her reply??
"Oh no, I had "real" cancer." Smack! Oooo, That
hurt!! He died less than a year
ago. Is that real enough for you lady?! <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b>People don't think it's
real because sometimes surgery is enough, sometimes you can cut it out and it
never comes back. You don't need to have chemo if you catch it early. (Actually,
for melanoma that metastasizes, chemo is very ineffective. Not a good thing in
the scheme of things) Most of the "treatment" is just watch and wait.
And so, since we sometimes "get off easy" in the treatment area, it feels
wrong to put yourself in the same category as other cancer patients. Even call
yourself a survivor. But after hearing
other people's stories, the constant uncertainty, the roller coaster ride of
melanoma, I have more respect for being a cancer survivor. It can go from
"A" ok, to fighting for your life, so fast. So I am trying to embrace
the surreal terms, cancer patient, and survivor, embrace them as my own. It's a battle in my head. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b>When I was starting this
chapter I looked up the term pity. And I
found something interesting..... the first meaning for "pity" was
"a regrettable or blameworthy act. "Shame" and "sin" was
a synonym...... interesting. I realize
this is not the empathy shade of the word, but still a relation. Somehow this world makes you feel like you
should feel blamed somehow for the cancer, feel shame, so hide it, hide it away so no one sees
your shame. I have shed that skin. And
it feels so nice. I can breath just a
little bit deeper. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Deep breath in, deep
breath out, close your eyes and sigh some relief. A small smile tugs at the
corners of my mouth. A moment of serenity. Moments I am thankful for.</b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><b><span style="color: #783f04;">Click for </span><span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://michaelantcliffe.com/" target="_blank">Michael Antcliffe's site and book.</a> </span></b></span><br />
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Georgia;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Georgia;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><b><span style="color: orange;"></span></b></span>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><b><span style="color: orange;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PyBlK7d8o-SnWUr5pwLXB7KRLfnvW9mmn_na61RGUxW9JhiYvi__0HfupJl3fb4jhK3hwxxoCpq7MoNq_wyrdhZs7sGlSrf95f8vdKIIYBYA3Q2HFevP88eRkjmKDok8NUC4A0EOt6ff/s1600/544704_172416452915099_583669269_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9PyBlK7d8o-SnWUr5pwLXB7KRLfnvW9mmn_na61RGUxW9JhiYvi__0HfupJl3fb4jhK3hwxxoCpq7MoNq_wyrdhZs7sGlSrf95f8vdKIIYBYA3Q2HFevP88eRkjmKDok8NUC4A0EOt6ff/s1600/544704_172416452915099_583669269_n.jpg" /></a></span></b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(I'm not the only one that feels this way. Here are a few fellow melanomates comments about this blog post:</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span class="uficommentbody">- Thanks for sharing! Your writing is amazing and hits
home.</span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"> <span style="background-position-x: 0px; background-position-y: -1058px; background-position: 0px -1058px; background-repeat: no-repeat; background-size: auto; display: inline-block;"></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><span class="uficommentbody" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">- Thank you so much for sharing. You are an inspiration
to us all. When I was first diagnosed with melanoma, I didn't want anyone to
know. But that all changed after trying to 'hide' it for two months. I no long
keep quiet. It's up to all of us to spread the word about the dangers of
tanning. Thank You.</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><span class="uficommentbody" style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></span></span></span>
<span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial;"><span class="uficommentbody" style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="color: #783f04;">And this is an article on how others don't feel the title of survivor fits at first. Featuring a fellow Stage 2 melanomate, Melissa: </span><span style="color: #e69138;"><a href="http://www.curetoday.com/index.cfm/fuseaction/article.show/id/2/article_id/2082#top" target="_blank">Article</a> </span><span style="color: orange;">)</span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-49748568926973233382013-03-11T12:23:00.000-07:002013-07-23T13:55:53.952-07:00Nodular Melanoma - The kind I had second time round<b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Why are nodular melanomas not detected early?</span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They look different to other melanomas.</b> <b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Their appearances are not well known in the community or <u>EVEN</u> among health care providers</b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">They grow more quickly. Nodular melanomas comprise only</b> <b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">10 to 15% of all melanomas but account for 60 to 70% of deep melanomas</b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nodular melanomas grow more quickly in depth than other types of melanoma</b>. <b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From the outset nodular melanomas are developing increasing life-threatening</b> <b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">potential.</b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is likely that they vary in rate of growth but that some may take only <u>6</u></b><u> </u><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><u>to 8 weeks!</u> to develop significant life threatening potential</b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The ABCD’s are of no help for Nodular Melanoma. </b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nodular melanomas have no appreciable flat phase.</b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In contrast to the ABCD features, nodular melanomas are symmetrical, have a regular border, are generally one colour and should be detected when they are only a few millimeters in diameter</b>. <b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These features are not well known.</b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b></span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Any lump on the skin that is still growing after a month should be</b> <b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">assessed medically.</b><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> </b></span></li>
<li><b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">One in five cases of nodular melanoma is ultimately fatal.</span></b></li>
</ul>
<b style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b>"Do the ABCDs, but also trust yourself, because in my experience patients are the first ones to notice something is wrong," Leffell said. "If patients are worried about a spot and the doctor doesn't want to biopsy it, find another doctor to biopsy it. The patient is the customer." Quote from Dr. Leffel at Yale</span></b><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><span style="color: #783f04;">Info from presentation by </span><span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://www.alfredhealth.org.au/Assets/Files/265_Brief_information_on_nodular_melanomas-text_only.pdf" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">VICTORIAN MELANOMA SERVICE</span></a> </span></b><b><span style="color: #783f04;">and article from </span><a href="http://www.myhealthnewsdaily.com/2137-nodular-melanoma-signs.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: orange;">My Health News</span></a></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>All of these were fatal</b></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dSg87lfO6v23qwFQGhjO0DNUISytd0dytbA-L1fRLtIqLdJLFw8Z-e78B3ecolyfwXhb0hoOBhnmRBUtDdDKKGfepo9r0ZqgOVz9vi4VRKP_1JRvQq-hC16qS0LQs4N6rc6wrn0ZyMi1/s1600/502013169_E_cnt_1_sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6dSg87lfO6v23qwFQGhjO0DNUISytd0dytbA-L1fRLtIqLdJLFw8Z-e78B3ecolyfwXhb0hoOBhnmRBUtDdDKKGfepo9r0ZqgOVz9vi4VRKP_1JRvQq-hC16qS0LQs4N6rc6wrn0ZyMi1/s1600/502013169_E_cnt_1_sm.jpg" /></a><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.727272033691406px; line-height: 17.99715805053711px; text-align: left;">Courtesy of Melanoma Education Foundation, all rights reserved</span><br />
<br /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Picture from</span> <a href="http://skincheck.org/Page4.php" style="color: orange;" target="_blank">skincheck.org</a><span style="color: #783f04;"> <u>Please</u> see their site for more info on nodular melanoma!</span></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-65743710259104047382013-03-10T22:58:00.002-07:002013-04-02T10:21:02.790-07:00<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><span style="color: #783f04;">Click Here to see my </span><span style="color: orange;"><a href="http://missionmelanoma.blogspot.ca/p/the-short-story.html">Latest Post!</a></span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;"><b>The Short Story.</b></span><br />
<div>
<span style="color: orange; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<br />
<div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>I put it on a separate page so it would be easily found for new followers. </b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>When I look at other people's blogs I am always looking for the beginning, the short story and it takes awhile to find it! </b></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>And I also wrote it because I didn't want to torture all of my friends, making them wait for the chapters to all come out!</b></span><br />
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div>
</div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-75263249782801240282013-03-07T16:43:00.001-08:002023-07-24T13:15:29.656-07:00Chapter 2 - Round 1<br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Six months
after my Dad died in his car accident, my wonderful generous mom, took us to
Disney World to find some fun after all the sadness. In the summer, my mom had
seen a mole she "didn't like the look of" on my back. So after
waiting to get into the dermatologist a few months, I had a mole removed just
before our holiday to the happiest place on earth! No big deal, I have
had many moles taken off over the years. But this one kinda worried me
just a teeny bit, because when I felt it, it had a<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>texture</em>. No other moles had
texture. </span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Well, since we were on holiday, Mike and my Mom got the fun task
of removing my stitches. Thing is, the mole the Doctor took off,<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>Wasn't</em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>the one my mom was worried
about!! So after our adventures with Mickey, (and it really is the
happiest place on earth.) I went back to the dermatologist to finish the
job. He said he would take it, only for my Mom's sake, to appease her
worry. He wasn't worried. And so I wasn't worried. He's the expert right?</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">A few weeks later I go to get the stitches out. After that's
taken care of, the nurse says the Dr. will come in to see me. " hmmm,
fishy. That's not normal right? " So he comes in all "Dr.
God"-like and says, "The mole came back as a cancerous melanoma. But
its nothing to worry about. It was very thin, and your chances of survival are
95%. We will make an appointment with a plastic surgeon and call you.
" Then he just left. He </span><st1:stockticker><span style="font-family: Georgia;">JUST</span></st1:stockticker><span style="font-family: Georgia;">
left! Didn't say "Do you have any questions?" Just "no big
deal" attitude and left! Wow, compassionate hey? He just said two
words that freaked me out,<span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span><em>cancer</em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>and<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>plastic surgeon</em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>and then left. Was he feeling
guilt about not wanting to take it off in the first place, or was he just a
jerk? Don't know, but thankfully he is no longer in practice!</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">A week or so later I saw Dr. Slobodan Djurickovic for the first
time of many times to come. </span></span></span></b><span id="docs-internal-guid-c06472e1-7fff-3332-6efc-6b2e16737b53"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The name concerned me, too many syllables. I can’t spell it let pronounce it. As if the strangeness of the name has anything to do with how they will look or act or what kind of Doctor he will be. </span></span><b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> He looks like he is in his
early 40's, that greying hair that just makes men distinguished, stylish
glasses and a sincereness to his manner. Ok, may like this guy. Until he
started to describe what he was going to do to my back......</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">The phrases "shouldn't need a skin graft", is not
something that you want to hear. Then he starts drawing the size of the
skin he will take off around the original scar left by the mole removal. This
thing is gonna be like an inch and half wide by 3 inches long and go down into
the skin too! yikes. Feeling a little light headed now, and <em>Really</em><span class="apple-converted-space"><i> </i></span>not impressed with that first
Doctor. "This is what you call no big deal is it? If its no big deal, why
is all this skin being removed from off my body? jerk" I don't normally
call people names, but I think this guy deserved one. </span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Within a month I find myself in the Jubilee, just in the minor
surgery area thankfully, with a local anesthetic. Dr. D has a helper, a new
student watching his work. Mike is there too. This should be fine. The
poking starts, those familiar giant bee stings. A lot more than any I
have had before though. Breath deep, all is well. Chat, ignore the pain,
then ignore the strange tugging and scraping sensations that follow, ignore,
chat, smile, laugh at the conversation. Wow this is taking a looong time! Oh
my, he's letting the newbie have a go at the stitches, this should be good.
(not) Finally all the stitches are done. I asked how many stitches.
People ask, so I should know right!? Around 30, he says. 30! That sounds
a bit frankensteinish! Oh, ok, many of the stitches are on the inside,
that makes sense. Wait a minute, how deep was this thing anyway! More of big
deal than I thought. Ok, made it! Done! Out of here. Thanks Dr. D! </span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">A week after my surgery, we find ourselves at the district
convention. Sitting for 3 days. With me trying not to rest my back on the seat.
That was one of the hardest conventions ever. But not because of the seating.
Usually conventions are a wonderful reunion of old and new friends, seeing
people you only see once a year, drinking in all the spiritual food, laughing,
sharing. This year I don't feel like sharing. I don't want people to ask how I
am. Well let me get out my list of woes, Dad died, Gramma died 5 weeks later,
Dad's place is a nightmare, oh yeah and I just had surgery for cancer, things
are great!! How about you? ............. we ate lunch in the car everyday.</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">I did tell a few people. That didn't work out so well.
They hear "skin cancer", which turns to "<em><u>just</u></em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>skin cancer" in their head. And
so, like many other melanoma sufferers, I needed to<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>defend</em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>my cancer, as "real cancer",
not the fake kind. I realized how little people know. They really don't know
how dangerous it can be. People<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>Die</em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>from skin cancer, my Uncle<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><em>Died</em><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>from
skin cancer you know. But whatever, I will just stop talking about it
then. I really don't want pity anyway. I don't enjoy attention, and the
last 9 months after Dad died, I got plenty of attention and pity, I don't want
to burden anyone with my miserable life. So nevermind. I'm fine. I'm fine
(Inside I am falling apart, but for you, to keep your lives happier, I am fine,
I don't have the energy to defend my cancer anyway )</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;">Half a year passed and I finally felt able to share my cancer with
others. Some of you may have gotten my Melanoma/ Sunscreen awareness email. The
sense of "shame" of having cancer had passed and the need to advocate
took over. All the things I had discovered about the kinds of ingredients to
look for in a sunscreen needed to be shared. I needed people to know how
to keep themselves and their children safe. The </span><st1:stockticker><span style="font-family: Georgia;">NEW</span></st1:stockticker><span style="font-family: Georgia;">
dermatologist said, to take Vit D, to cover up rather than rely on sunscreen,
to wear hats and drink green tea, not to be out in the sun between 10-3 April -
October. I felt safe. My family history said I would probably get
it sometime. My "sometime" had come and gone, and all I had to
do was be watchful, wear my hats and sunscreen and I would be fine. I beat this
one.</span></span></span></b><br />
<b><span><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> </span></span></span><span><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">maybe.....</span></span></span></b></span><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></span></b>
<br />
<div style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 13.1pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqYRP8XNnyi3ciKK0si-OIfL7keQaTWgTm9m0S_KvZaIuHNL84M4mgR8ok1KF2hbuAkfGP_GaFGs3JKy9_caHIMHmFKoldDN4I0CnPMu2TxJtv-T4aAF50jN9hEy9hWOl-MOZvZUhYr1V/s1600/25346_1369409046084_118902_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuqYRP8XNnyi3ciKK0si-OIfL7keQaTWgTm9m0S_KvZaIuHNL84M4mgR8ok1KF2hbuAkfGP_GaFGs3JKy9_caHIMHmFKoldDN4I0CnPMu2TxJtv-T4aAF50jN9hEy9hWOl-MOZvZUhYr1V/s320/25346_1369409046084_118902_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 19.4886px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>ME JUST BEFORE ROUND 1. I LOVE EYEORE!</b></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; line-height: 13.1pt; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia;"><br /></span></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-8479874735402783512013-03-06T13:34:00.000-08:002013-04-02T10:20:23.142-07:00FYI - Basic Staging<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5OEp-zPJst0MIClm_yJMS1tIgprFj20wIQ9Ae-yzC-AzgIaQkYBkaVhXpeTGn-zOjuKStGdwneb6UMCFC8al6PXaixhK7xEIJsDkjnlMDHsBk_OOVbfCVI_RmMN_QPxiAdKfwJtdUMwCb/s1600/stages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5OEp-zPJst0MIClm_yJMS1tIgprFj20wIQ9Ae-yzC-AzgIaQkYBkaVhXpeTGn-zOjuKStGdwneb6UMCFC8al6PXaixhK7xEIJsDkjnlMDHsBk_OOVbfCVI_RmMN_QPxiAdKfwJtdUMwCb/s320/stages.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div>
<br />
<span style="background-color: white; background-position: initial initial; background-repeat: initial initial; color: #333333;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;"><b>The very basic staging of melanoma. It gets much more complex
than this, but for the onlooker this is enough.</b></span></span></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1386566788075469806.post-78307520256942016772013-03-05T15:03:00.002-08:002023-07-24T13:16:14.067-07:00Chapter 1 - The Prehistory of my Melanoma Life<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b>As I write, excuse
me for being detailed. When I read other peoples stories, and they leave
out bits, it drives me batty!! So you will have to just bear the details for
the benefit of those that share my need for the nitty gritty.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b>My
story............so far.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b>I have known to
watch out for the sun since I was 12, when my uncle was diagnosed with
Melanoma, Stage 3. We were told it was hereditary. My mom credits her brother with saving her
life, since 2 years later she found out she had a melanoma, Stage 2. If it
wasn't for her brother, she wouldn't have known to look. She was so scared, so
upset. But as a kid, you just don't think your mom could die. There wasn't a
question about it, a sure thing. Thankfully my innocent optimism was valid, and
she is still here with me today. But now I know more, now I know she was one of
the "luckier" ones. Since her first, she has had a total of 4 so far.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My mom's sister has also had melanoma. 5 Times! Plus she has had a
related genetic disease called neurofibromatosis, better known as
internal Elephant man disease. My uncle had this as well. And I found out
just recently that my Grandpa had melanoma, that's where his lung
cancer came from. And my Grandpa's brother died of melanoma as well. WOW! Are we genetically programmed or what!! Starting with my
Grandpa, that's one parent, his brother, 3 out of 6 of his children to get it (so
far), and me, the only surviving child of those 3 children. Holy Genetic
Jackpot!</span></b><br />
<b><span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></b></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b>My Uncle battled for 12 years before he lost. I
remember sitting there in the hospital with him, just hours before he died. His
breath was labored. "It" had
made its way to his brain and lungs. He was a big burly man. But now he lay in this
hospital bed, hardly able to move. I looked into his eyes, holding his hand,
trying to give him all the comfort I could, attempting to share the peace within
my own eyes. I hope he felt it. I hope I gave him somewhere good to be in those
last hours. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Eventhough
melanoma came so close in our lives, I didn't really <i>fear</i> it, respect it as much as I should have. I mean, I wore
sunscreen, got checked by the Dr. once a year, stayed out of the sun for the
most part and such, but I<i> knew</i> that
if you caught it early you were ok!! 95% survival rate if you catch it on time.
Just keep your eyes out and it will be fine. No worries right. Well, last year
I found out that's not entirely true. That's a false sense of security. <o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b>You see,
melanoma is a tricky sucker. The melanoma
research community is full of those that were stage 1, with good odds, 95%!! who
are now stage 3 or 4. Seems like most
skip stage 2 altogether. Even my one Dr. said, he wouldn't tell me what my
chances are. He tells some people they
will be fine, and then they're not. He tells others, "Go arrange your
affairs", and they keep living. So there are no guarantees with this
beast. It is unpredictable. The Doctors don't even really understand it yet. Now
that puts a little fear in your head, uncertainty. Do not underestimate the
power of uncertainty, it can really send you for a loop! And now that I'm in the loop, I'm getting a little dizzy. Is this ride over yet?<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #783f04; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: medium;"><b>Here ends
Chapter 1, the prehistory, round one is up next!</b></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KLBef8ZiQXViSQK_-4VZ7ONlS-X1o7g-_kjo5KiAOADbX9aN6CtgXIVJnltNY_oCeDCSaaYsxSaN5q0K2f_Kz85wVbQCRy9kWLhjSXLtfv8PeFM4As1tKlR8h2CnHR0RAt3KQfXf4Io-/s1600/9323_1215409636195_4428864_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-KLBef8ZiQXViSQK_-4VZ7ONlS-X1o7g-_kjo5KiAOADbX9aN6CtgXIVJnltNY_oCeDCSaaYsxSaN5q0K2f_Kz85wVbQCRy9kWLhjSXLtfv8PeFM4As1tKlR8h2CnHR0RAt3KQfXf4Io-/s1600/9323_1215409636195_4428864_n.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #783f04;"><b><br /></b><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><b>Me at age 12, when I first heard the word, "melanoma".</b></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span></div>
Mission Melanomahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02371277477531179722noreply@blogger.com1