It Is Enough

That's it. It's over. Done, thank God! Get me out of this year of misery and pain! Good riddance 2010!

I have never, ever suffered like this. Ten years ago I was ten years younger and ten years stronger. Back then, I never prayed I could just die from the misery of cancer. Not so this time. Apparently I am not that good with pain, especially the mind-numbingly excruciating kind. Who is?

Well, it wasn't all bad. I did grow closer to Leslie, and am so thankful for knowing her, thankful that she too loves me, and for having her nearby on the peninsula. And Nan has stayed so close, calling me every few days to see what I need, stopping by on occasion to visit. What a blessing they both are.

My book got published. I wanted to be a writer at age ten, and would sit in my closet, writing ridiculously horrid fiction stories that were so bad that even I refused to read them. Gave up that potential career for my entire life, then started to write for real a few years ago. So, DWTP exists in spite of me.

I also finished "Okay, Then", my book on Sam, and learned to know him better because of it. Whether published or not, it was worth it to go through the journey of those memories.

As a result of over two years of collaboration, Leura, my editor, is now my friend. I can tell because she mailed her family Christmas letter to me. Seriously, that means more than anyone could know. I'm on her "it" list! We do still write random notes to one another. And we've only met twice. With 1500 miles between us, I'm thankful for email. For now, it will be enough. Besides, not that many people share my type of humor, but she does. And she is wickedly funny, but not wicked.

Zoe and I became friends this year. I've only known her since she was born 32 years ago, but now I finally really know her. Well, more than I did. And I like her. A lot.

And Matthew is free. And a Believer. Oh how I hope we can see him more, know him better, love as he needs and wants to be loved. His life matters to me.

I helped Sam find a job where other Aspergians work. No, he doesn't love it, but they treat him well, pay him well, and it can lead to better things.

Though the reasons are not good, I learned once again what an amazing man, nurse, caretaker, husband, person Steve is. I've been incapacitated and in great need of help for 6 1/2 weeks, and he has yet to throw me out the window. He even sometimes rubs my legs, my back, makes me food, brings me liquids, and kisses away my tears. Morgan and Sam do kindnesses when asked, but Steve is the one who offers without my asking.

So, lousy year at first glance with the cancer nightmare, but not so bad if I remember all of it. I am loved. It is enough. Goodbye 2010. Happier New Year to everyone I love.

The Real Deal

Merry Christmas, about four months early. I believe Jesus was born sometime in what we call April, but I'm not certain. This holiday breaks up a cold and boring winter and helps the stores make money. I believe it actually used to be a pagan holiday - real close to Christ, wouldn't you say? Ha!

But we have a real tree, decorate it, give gifts, and have a nice meal, nonetheless. But even that's not all about the food. Christmas Eve dinner this year was BLT's on our laps in front of "Miracle on 34th St." For the four of us, the holiday is fun, but it's not who we are.

In 2009 we left our former church that seemed to be more about "Christianity" than about Christ. Not for all, but for some. (Women not equal to men in God's eyes; be conservative, even if it doesn't truly follow Christ; don't smoke or you'll go to hell, etc.) We now go to services where the pastor loves science fiction movies and doesn't seem to own a tie, but believes in Jesus as savior-God, period. We're staying.

I still admire and respect Billy Graham, but his son Franklin has gone over the edge, turning into a political (got that?) idiot. And Jim Wallace is not conservative, but he is brilliant and true. Billy and Jim promote truth, rather than religion. In other words, they promote Christ, who really needs no promotion. He simply IS. There are other people out there who believe as I do. Not in "Jesusy" Christianity, but in truth. In the real Jesus.

Jesus was not popular in his time. His life was often in danger, and indeed he was murdered. He was poor, with no amount of monetary holdings to help him "build his ministry." He wasn't good looking. His early life is mostly unknown to any of us. And he changed the world. I'm tired of the blue eyed, blond haired fake that so much of American Christianity portrays. The real man was a poor Jew, for heaven's sake. Well, for our sake, actually.

He had siblings, well, half siblings. Joseph and Mary did have conjugal relations after Jesus's birth. James, Joseph, Simon, and Judas (no, not that one) and at least 2 sisters who are not named. The man had family. Can you imagine growing up as his sibling!? Wow. Do you suppose he shared? One would think so!

I'm just happy to have grown up and met him through words. Words have grown into reality.

Many Colors

The ugly red scar is over 10" long. And lumpy. Blood Red.

Being off chemo has allowed my hair to grow for the first time in years. It's getting long and full and not half bad. And curly. White on top; dark brown in back. Pin it up and I look, well... pretty decent. Pink.

I can barely walk across a room without having to sit down. Dingy Gray.

Today we ran errands. I walked into Kohl's (first time anywhere in weeks) and had to grab onto a cart to stay standing. But walk I did. That I saw nothing I wanted to buy is immaterial. I was out there. (Okay, yes, it was a test.) And rather than have Steve drive me, I walked the whole way next door to the grocery shop where I sat down but who cares? Purple.

I've lost over ten pounds, and when I turn sideways, I'm nearly invisible. Puce.

Last night I slept all night. (well, only one brief wake up) Nothing hurt (much) and I stretched. Dear God, what a pleasure to finally be physically able to stretch. And I slept 11 hours, my goal. I was so happy that I got up right away. And get this... I took a shower all by myself! I'm a big girl now! Candy Red.

I've forgotten what I used to do on a normal day. Everything seems weird around here. Black.

For now, I read, just finished writing my second book, have to find a new publisher, try to move myself to do more, and practice deep breathing. Having assumed I'd be gone by now, I suppose it's time to figure out what to do with the rest of the time I do have here. Life feels surreal. I talk to God a lot. In new ways. Grassy Green.

Life is full of horrid things. For most people. But for me, I prefer to concentrate on the good. I'll let that color my days.

Use or Lose

My babies are home. Morgan is here. Sam is here. Even the boring days are more fun with them here. And trust me, we Richardsons do boring very well. Sitting on the couch, laughing, telling old jokes, watching reruns, you know, boring stuff. Love it!

We also do interesting stuff quite well. I just finished writing my second book, "Okay, Then" about raising an autistic son. Now comes the hard part - finding someone to publish it. Doable, but not my favorite activity. "Look at me! Love my work!" Ugh, I prefer no one look at me. Morgan is the gifted writer, for Pete's sake. But I'm the one who's lived the life in the story, so I'm the one who has to find the publisher.

Thank God for Leura, my editor. We've met two times, once in an office, once at Ian's funeral. I adore, trust and enjoy her, and frankly, feel comfortable now calling her my friend. She'll keep me in line and make me get it done.

So, what does Steve do? Well, pretty much everything else in our lives. He does all his work, 99% of mine, (okay, 100%) and just in the past week he's built and installed winter window coverings, carted multiple truck loads of leaves off to the dump, made all our meals, Christmas shopped, grocery shopped, done laundry, put up our Christmas tree, gotten up in the middle of the night to give me pain killers, nabbed a couple hours of sleep, and still gets up at 5:00 am to go to work each day.

Amazing. He is off for the next ten days. And that's only because he is at "use or lose" and it's time off now, or lose it forever. Yes, I love having him home. But, he makes me do more than I want. If he didn't, I'd fall apart, because everything hurts. He won't let me be a sissy. I get upset and I cry - in fact, a few of us cried tonight - but the hugs still come and we make it. He's right; I use it or I lose it. That's just the way life is.

I can't give up. Three people want and need me to get through this. Pain and misery be damned. I hate each moment, but it will be better. Their hugs and kisses are my medicine. I'll make it.

Live a Deep Life

I woke up in my own bed today for the first time in I have no idea how long. I am so looped up on drugs that most things are fuzzy. This is not a recreational adventure. If you take drugs for pleasure or recreation, you're an ass and an idiot. And your life is shallow. I'm taking drugs to get through mind numbing pain, hoping to reach normalcy again. And if I can endure that pain, I'll skip them. I just want to be ME again. Drug free, pain free, clear-headed, normal me.

What do you know about pain? Can you brush your teeth? That's too hard for me right now. Standing at a sink and rubbing those once soft, but now rough bristles across my tender teeth hurts too much. Can you stand up? I can with help from Steve or a chair, but only for moments. Can you sit immobile in a chair without crying? I can, if I concentrate hard enough. Are you able to inhale deeply without crying? Sometimes I can do that, but for now, my lungs are not at full capacity. Can you remember what happened yesterday?

Where was I? Oh... try spending your life as a nearly obsessively independent person, then lose it all to physical inability, and let me know how you handle it. It is humbling and tiring and depressing and takes all one has to overcome. My will is indeed strong, but it all collapses under a body that will not obey my brain, a body that cannot function with any certainty anymore, a body way too young for all this. Except, it's obviously not too young. It can happen anytime.

Two months ago I was capable and strong, independent and energetic. Can I get there again? Well, yes, I can. I just have to break out of this prison I'm in. The prison formed by my sick body and lived in by me. Yet first, my brain has to rebuild and take over my day to day functions. It can happen. If I stay off the pain killers, get some rest, stop trying to be a super-human, and do what Steve tells me is best, I'll get better. The temptation to feel sorry for myself is so strong. I'm just tired of fighting. I'm weary of reality. The truth has worn me out.

It's time to take a nap. When I awake, I want to get up and walk around the house, go outside to see my yard, laugh with Steve, trade jokes with Sam, have a bite to eat, clean the joint, and read. But if all I do is sit here and read, that's okay too.

Three Men and A Baby

When my brother, David was young, he'd eat massive quantities of Lima beans for the sole purpose of trying to make me throw up. I didn't care if he liked them or not; it was gross and made me sick. I moved away a week after high school graduation, most anxious to get away from dinners ruined by his antics. Ugh.

My brother-in-law, Charlie, urged my sister to leave me alone in MD to return to Ohio to be with him in 1969. The bum. I was 19, all alone, and clueless. I needed her but he didn't care. Okay, fine, it wasn't all about me; he was in love, but still. It made me mad and I lost my best friend.

My nephew-in-law, Donnie...wait... It's really hard to come up with something negative about him. Oh yeah, he took my niece to Russia to be a missionary with him three years ago. So I rarely get to see her.

Three men who put their own wants and needs before mine. Lima beans, young love and foreign missions.

So now it's today. And guess what they put first in their lives this week. Me. David left his family to fly 1500 miles to be with me during surgery and even missed Thanksgiving with his own wife and family. Charlie spent his 41st wedding anniversary with me in the hospital, even as his wife (my sister) was just released from her own dramatic surgery and recovering at home. And Donnie came on his only day off that week, leaving his wife with two little kids and a newborn at home.

These three men love me. And they put me first this week, even ahead of their own wives and children. No, they don't love me more, they simply love me, and sacrificed what had to be. These three were with me until moments before I entered the OR. They stayed with Steve and Morgan during my surgery, prayed with them, comforted them. Rejoiced with them when the results came back. Praised God with them for my survival.

So now it's three men and a woman who could not feel more loved or complete.