My Cancer in Bullet Points #6

* Yesterday I didn't go to the sanctuary I usually attend for Sunday worship.

* I spent the beautiful, cloudless morning at the sanctuary of Daniel's Place, i.e., the cemetery here in Durham, NC.

* Daniel's Place is a calm space to walk, think, contemplate, pray, sing, and write.

* Before leaving the house, Carl provided me with a roll of toilet paper in case I had to make my way into the woods. He knew I'd had two mugs of coffee.

* The grassy lawns of the cemetery are serene, breezy, and filled with stories. Seated on Daniel's terrier blanket, I saw a yellow butterfly (yes, in November!).

* This was my first visit since being diagnosed with breast cancer.

* I had a little chat at the smallest grave marker of Our Darling Boy. "So, looks like I have cancer and you had cancer," I said. "What a thing to have in common!" I brushed a leaf away from where it landed on his name. "Only God knew that your life and death would be instrumental in helping to prepare me for what God has for me now."

* No mother can sit by her son's grave without shedding a few tears after that.

* "I miss you; I love you," I said.

* I did all the talking. Daniel remained quiet; he always does.

* He's joyfully experiencing all the wonder, majesty, and magnitude of Heaven. He told me when he was on Earth, "There are no tears in Heaven."

* I wiped my eyes, and then got moving.

* As I made my way around the loop that circles the cemetery, I thought: This could be the last time I walk here with all of me --- if you know what I mean.

* I'm coming to terms with the reality that I could be having bilateral breast surgery very soon.

I walked 2.8 miles in 36 minutes.

* I still got it! (I used to walk 4 miles a day, but lately I have been slack.)

* There is always traffic from Interstate 40 on the other side of the cemetery. A low din of noise.

* The traffic beckons me, reminding me that there is still life to be lived. You can't stay in the quiet and serene forever.

* Just like that infamous line in Robert Frost's poem, the one I had to memorize in fourth grade --- "I have miles to go before I sleep."

* Ignoring the traffic and the need to get back to my other life, I meandered among the graves and found Solomon's tomb; it's just a few rows up from Daniel's.

* In my memoir, Life at Daniel's Place, I've written about how the scripture verse from 2 Timothy on this stranger's marker ministered to me about life (be it short or long in years) and faith. "I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." I like the way it is tweaked to say "my."

* I want to keep running (or in my case, walking because I am not coordinated enough to run) the race until Jesus tells me it's over and I get to go to my eternal home.

* "It is a glorious day," I spoke into my phone where I often record my thoughts and ideas in Google Docs.

* My phone, which doesn't always understand my English, transcribed my words as "glorious dead."

* This shows me that my phone has a sense of humor.

* And for those curious minds, I made it home in time so the toilet paper was not necessary.

* Thank you to all who are keeping me in prayer for Wednesday's CT Scan at Duke.

* I'm sure I won't find out the results until after Thanksgiving, so this will be my last post until then.

* Happy Thanksgiving to each of you!

My Cancer in Bullet Points #5

*The bones in my body are old, but they are clear of cancer!

*I just got the report from Duke concerning yesterday's Full Body Bone Scan. Part of it reads: There are no suspicious foci of increased radiotracer activity to suggest osseous metastatic disease.

* Grateful!

* I knew I had cancer before the mammogram and ultrasound of 10/24. I knew the left armpit housed a rather large lymph node. All my symptons were quite evident.

* But I had no clue if the cancer had matasticized to my bones. When the oncologist wanted to make sure before making a treatment plan, well, we had to make sure.

* For those who are 55 or under, old people's bones and joints creak, groan, and are worn. We've done a lot of living. Fact of life. And, perhaps, one of the trademarks or badges of growing older is a creak, or twinge, or ache, or something from an old injury that lets you know when it's going to rain.

* So I must confess I did think one of the aches could show up as a cancer-ridden rib. I was preparing for that news today.

* "Whatever God has for me, let me receive it." That's been my prayer. It was my prayer this morning before the results came in.

* This acceptance of "whatever" has brought me Philippians 4:7 peace---that God-gifted peace that passes all understanding.

* Next up is the CT Scan on November 26th for the chest, abdomen, and pelvis.

* Then, onto a treatment plan which should start with surgery next month.

* Thanks for reading! And just so you know, I read every one of your comments here.

* Sometimes I am in awe at how compassionate, concerned, and prayerful y'all have been.

* Always I am humbled.

Can You Tell That Harley Is Relieved to Know My Body Scan Results?

My Cancer in Bullet Points #4

Today is Bone Scan Day.

* Bone Scan Day should be captitalized because it is an event, like Independence Day and Thanksgiving, although generally not celebrated.

* I have never had a bone scan before.

* I read they inject you with some stuff; and then scan to take a peek into the skeletal components of your being. All that you hide with skin, muscles, and clothes is exposed while proffesional strangers montitor the scanner.

* But I am not a medical expert, so let me give you a defintion from a source that knows more than I do.

* The Cleveland Clinic defines a bone scan like this: A whole-body bone scan is a nuclear medicine test to check your bones for issues or changes. You receive an injection of a substance called a radiotracer. The radiotracer collects in areas of irregular activity and highlights these areas on an imaging scan. It’s painless and safe for most people.

* Daniel had a bone scan. He was three, newly diagnosed with neuroblastoma.

* While on the table, he created a song.

* The song went like this: "Heaven, Heaven, Heaven is a good place to stay."

* I am sure I will not be that uninhibited to sing amoung professional strangers today.

* Unless, they inject something that rhymes with gum into my veins.

* Otherwise, I will be still and follow the instructions.

* I wonder what my bones, which I like to keep hidden, look like?

* I have never broken a bone, so I am not well-versed in scans or x-rays.

* Nearly six decades ago, during the summer when men walked on the moon, I almost broke a bone.

* If you have a few minutes between thinking about the sides you plan to make for your Thanksgiving meal, please read the tale below.

* I call it The Thirty-Two Dollar Somersault.

~*~*~

The Thirty-Two Dollar Somersault

If you've never broken a bone, there are times when you know you came close. A slip, a fall, a wrong move, many of us have had near-bone-breaking experiences. The first one I had was the summer they put a man on the moon, 1969. I was eight; my brother Vince was five, and we were bored.

Now there was a wide yard at my grandparents' split-level home in Sandston, Virginia where we spent that summer. The yard even had a swingset. There were croquet mallets, balls, wickets, and the whole outdoors. This was back in the day when children were permitted to play outside without supervision.

But instead of heading outside, Vince and I were indoors. Grandma Patsie might have been in the kitchen, adding lima beans to her vegetable soup. My parents and Granddad were in the den, talking about things kids don't understand.

"I can do a somersault down the stairs," I said to Vince as we sat at the top of a set of stairs that led to the living room. I can guarantee I used a prideful tone. I was, and still am, three years older and older sisters are notorious for boasting.

My brother's eyes dared me.

"Yeah, I can do it. I bet you can't." I was not a scaredy cat.

Vince made no attempt to roll down the upstairs landing into the living room.

So it had to be me. Like an Olympian gymnnist, my turn was up. My boast was about to be cemented in reality.

I got into position. Crouched down. (When I googled somersault just now; something no human was capable of doing back in the pre-Doom-Scroll era of 1969, here is the definition that was presented: "An acrobatic stunt in which the body rolls forward or backward in a complete revolution with the knees bent and the feet coming over the head.")

And even though I had never read that definition, that is exactly what I did down the six or eight carpeted stairs at my grandparents' house.

I don't know if I screamed when I landed or cried; most likely both. The adults came running.

I don't recall anything about the car ride to the doctor's, but I do remember this: My wrist was not broken. The bone had popped out from where it belongs. The doctor adjusted the dislocated bone back into place. One or two moves and I was cured.

The doctor smiled, obviously pleased with his work. Then he charged my dad $32.00.

I saw my future-self seated at a desk while patients stood in line so I could tug at their wrists and put them back into place. For thirty-two dollars a pop, I could be rich.

But I didn't take the route of medicine. I avoided anyone in a white coat. I didn't take the route of gymnastics either.

Even though the humilitation of that summer day is embedded in the recesses of my mind, I try to overcome it by thinking, "Well, at least I didn't break a bone."

And up until now, I haven't. Yet.

~*~*~*~

If you have read this far, thank you! I appreciate your support and prayers for Bone Scan Day. I will post again when the results become available. The main question is: Has my breast cancer metastized to the bones or will all be clear and clean?

Verse of the Day (that came into my in-box just now)

1 Thessalonians 5:18

. . . give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.

My Cancer in Bullet Points #3 (five-second read)

Happy Update about the Bone Scan. In my last posting, the date had not been determined, but now I guess they are eager to accommodate me:

* The NM Bone Scan has been scheduled for Wednesday, November 19th.

* The Body Scan (CT) is still set for November 26th.

See? I told you this would take only 5 seconds to read.

My Cancer in Bullet Points #2

Life is a series of waiting.

So many of you have reached out and I appreciate each card, email, text message, phone call, and get-together. Thank you! For those who are faithfully praying for me, thank you!

I'm going to update my breast cancer diagnosis and treatment at my blog which is where you are now. For those kind souls who want to know about the latest events on my journey, this is where you'll find them --- in bullet points. No paragraphs of details, just the facts (and perhaps a few tidbits of reflection).

* Yesterday, Carl and I got to spend all day from 9:30 AM till 5:00 PM at the Duke Cancer Center.

* Waiting, waiting. While Carl and I sat in the lobby of the clinic, I opened my newest journal --- my Cancer Journal --- and wrote about how life is a series of waiting.

* After 40 minutes of waiting, we met with the nurse and then the surgeon --- part of my Cancer Team.

* I thought we might sit around a table and drink Earl Grey and eat shortbread, so I dressed for the ocassion in my skirt, sweater, and boots. I'd even sprayed on some perfume.

* Alas! No one warned me that this meet-and-greet would have me in a hosptital gown seated on the plastic exam chair; there had been no need to dress to impress!

* As I sat in one of those flimsy how-are-you-supposed-to-tie-this? gowns, the surgeon discussed surgery and explained the procedure.

* She even drew a diagram of where the two masses/tumors are in my left breast (one is 2.7cm and the other is 2.8cm).

* The next appointment, which took place in the afternoon, was with the radiation oncologist group. The doctors explained radiation, the side effects, and how often it would be done.

* The medical oncologist was the last appointment. She said surgery, radiation, and possible chemo were not on the table until . . .

* What?!

* Due to the pathology report, and what it shows, there's concern over a large and not very elegant lymph node in my armpit.

* As we know, our lymph nodes can carry disease to the rest of our body.

* She said it's pointless to construct a treatment plan with surgery, possible chemo, and radiation before having both a bone and CT body scan to see whether or not the cancer has spread.

* She drew a diagram with the three possible routes my treatment will take depending on the results of the staging scans.

* Mentally exhausted, Carl and I had more questions than answers after our clinic day.

* We went home to our two pups, Harley and Bella, who were wondering why we had been gone so long. Yet, they were happy we had made it home in time to feed them dinner.

* Today, my Duke chart let me know that an appointment for the Body Scan (CT) has been scheduled. It will be on November 26th.

* The Bone Scan has yet to be scheduled.

Nuggets of Blessings

* Each member of the team was caring, and extending empathy to Daniel's short life and death from cancer treatments. The medical oncologist cried and then passed around tissues. As y'all know, my journey is entwined with what I have already been through with my son Daniel who was diagnosed with neuroblastoma when he was three-years-old.

* The setting sun over the Duke Medical Center's parking deck (we had to park on the very top floor where the sun does shine) was warm and calming. The sky glowed with the serenity of peach and orange.

* For the last ten days, the daily Bible verses (from Bible Study Tools) that have entered my in-box have all been about God's peace. So I took the hint and have focused on the peace he provides, a wonderful gift.

Thanks for reading! If you have read this whole post, you deserve a mug of Earl Grey and a buttery piece of shortbread. (No need to wear a hospital gown.)

My Cancer in Bullet Points

Yes, I have cancer.

Like most authors, I tell stories with detail. Authors write with details, creating visuals for our readers about the color of the house, the intensity of the breeze as it blew the autumn leaves around the front door, and the angry conversation the neighbor held when the branch from a tree snapped and fell into her garden.

The other day Carl, my husband, overheard me talking on the phone with a friend about my recent cancer diagnosis. “Bullet points,” he said to me when I finished the call. “People listen better when you talk in bullet points.” My dear husband was trying to be helpful because he knows I sometimes get too involved in the narrative and forget the main thread.

So . . . Taking his advice, I will tell you about my diagnosis with bullet points.

• I had a mammogram and ultrasound on October 24th.

• I had a biopsy the same day.

• I have breast cancer --- Invasive ductal carcinoma.

• I meet with my care team--- the surgeon, radiation oncologist, and medical oncologist on November 13th.

• I am at peace and prepared for this journey.

• I hope I can be as brave as Daniel was.

• I appreciate your prayers to God for me.

• Pray for an increase in patience, faith, and healing.

I've had many nuggets of blessings so far . . . . Some include:

• The women asked if I wanted music during my biopsy and I chose the Eagles. (The young nurses called it Classic Rock which goes to show how old both the band and I am.) There’s nothing like hearing Joe Walsh belt out Take it to the Limit as the doctor is digging into your skin with a core needle.

• Ice packs are soothing, even when dining out. After Carl and I returned home from that long (mammogram-ultrasound-biopsy) day at the clinic at Duke, we went out to eat because we had a buy-one-entre-get-one-free coupon that was about to expire. The ice packs I was given joined us. Thanks to them, I was able to eat my dinner without any pain.

• In 1996, on the first morning after Daniel’s diagnosis was confirmed, I watched the sun rise over the parking deck at UNC-Hospitals in Chapel Hill, and the words to the hymn (from Lamentations) came to me: "His mercies are new every morning. Great is thy faithfulness." The other Sunday, October 26th, Great is Thy Faithfulness was the final hymn at FBC. I managed to sing all the verses with gusto. As the congregation sang, I knew it was no coincidence that hymn was part of the service. It was a reminder that God goes before us to prepare the way.

I appreciate you reading this. I will try to update here every so often.

Is It Legal to Split Treats in Half? Dogs Want to Know!

We love our pets! They add fun and love to our lives. Creatively, someone came up with what dogs would search for on the internet if they could get their paws to hit the keyboard.

This search history has been making the rounds on the internet and each time I see it, I laugh. My husband printed it out and I have it by my computer. My favorite one is Is It Legal To Split Treats in Half? and perhaps, I like this one because as a two-boxer owner, I do split dog treats in half.

So here's to our dogs and their inquisitive minds!