Abnormal

Hey! What's going on? I feel normal. And that's not normal. I'm not in pain. I am a bit hungry. I'm not depressed, and I have stuff to do. Nothing about that list is normal, not lately anyway.

I met a friend in Bowie today, a 60 minute round-trip. Before I left, I thought, "Oh, it's so far, but I'll make it. I won't complain...(poor me).... Why couldn't she just come here...(poor me)?" But once I arrived, it seemed like nothing at all, and I didn't pass out from weariness. Hm.

I even stopped at a nearby shop before returning home - something I never do anymore, since shopping is oh, so hard! I bought a new cutting board to replace the one I ruined with a hot pan. I ran a real live errand. Hm.

Yesterday I mailed a standard form to a publisher in England. I'm trying to find one to take on my book about Sam, about Asperger's. Why an English publisher? Well, I had the name, so why not? And, they published some books about Asperger's already, so again, why not? I figured I'd hear back in a month or so. Well, wrong again. They replied within 12 hours. They want to read more of my draft. Hm.

I usually read about five books a year, tops. I'm now reading "Kidnapped" by Robert Louis Stevenson. It's the sixth book I've read in the past six weeks, most being classics that I managed to never read while in school. Plus, some history books, including one by Sarah Vowell, a brilliant woman. I'm hoping my daughter, an English teacher, will be proud of me. Another Mark Twain classic is waiting nearby. Hm.

I saw my oncologist yesterday. I have stage 4 cancer, no drugs left to help me, and the tumor is growing. He says I look like I don't have cancer at all, and frankly, I feel okay (if you don't count "old".) What the heck? I was supposed to be in hospice by now. But I'm fixing dinner, cleaning the house (a miracle in and of itself),writing letters, talking to friends, and planning to have our carpets all redone. When does the "dying" part begin? Hm.

This life is sure not what I thought it would be. Anymore it seems so... abnormal. But my normals were getting so horrid. Abnormal is just fine. Thank God.

Weeds for My Dad

Weeds. Do you love them as much as I do? Probably not.

I hated weeds as a kid. Dad (a nurseryman) would have us kids go out to the fields and pull and hoe weeds from amidst all the nursery stock, probably to build character in us. Wait, he surely did it just to get the dang things out of his fields! And oh how I hated it. I'd take a break to lean on my hoe, exhausted, weary, dying of thirst, feeling so sorry for little ole me, so hot and tired and put upon. And that was after only five minutes outside in the sunshine, with three of them spent walking out to the field! I even knew I could go in for a lemonade after I completed just one row. I was such a pansy.

What I remember now is how soft the soil was back in Ohio. Just soft dark brown earth... no rocks, red soil and hard gray clay to stop my hoe from even entering the ground, like here in MD. Oh, I had it so easy back then. I can barely stomp a shovel into the resistant ground here now.

I didn't care about my character as a kid. I just wanted to go read my books up in a tree out in the woods. Dang old weeds! But I did it, and learned how to survive. And... I learned how to work the earth, despite it all. I'm pretty good at growing things today, despite this horrid MD soil. Dad would be proud of me.

Today Sam hates to empty the dishwasher, hates to take out the trash, and hates to make his own salads. But mark my words, when he is 40, he'll be doing all that with no thought of letting someone else do it for him. It'll be part of who he is, just like the weeds are of me.

Today when Sam asks me to throw a few hoops with him out in our driveway, I tend to irritate him by stopping every few minutes to lean over and pull the few weeds I see peeping up out of the garden nearby. I just can't stand to see them there. They call my name, it seems. Or maybe they call my Dad's name, reminding me of days gone by. Dad would be so pleased with my garden.

Well, maybe not at the moment, it's a dang mess - I've just been through four months of misery and pain with the cancer and all - but give me some time. When it gets warmer, I'll be out there with my hoe, doing what Dad taught me to do. The earth will be my salvation and healing. I'll wear my heavy, worn old garden gloves, the ones that say "Vic" on them. Thanks, Dad.

Details, details...

Well, I only turned this on to do a test. But now that I'm here...

Several people have mentioned having difficulty posting comments. I don't know why. Be sure to go down to the bottom and click on the "comments" link after completing your message. It shouldn't be too hard to find. Comment away, good or bad!

I know many people read this, but only 17 are posted. You don't have to be listed if you prefer to remain anonymous. Just "Bookmark" the link and you can return anytime. I have never figured out how to notify you of new postings, so it's up to you to look. The one person who is able to do that... doesn't know how she did it either! I usually do one per week. Sometimes more, sometimes less.

This is short today. And if you just happened to tune in...please pray that the excruciating pain in my belly simply goes away. It's double-over, mind-numbing, unbearable pain but I cannot (WILL NOT) endure another surgery. Thanks.

P.S. It only stops hurting when I've stopped eating. For a whole day. My pants are getting baggy.

Test...

Not Boring

My sister came to visit. My brother called and we talked for awhile. I hugged my husband, listened to my son, and laughed with my daughter. Family - covered.

Ran an errand with my best friend Nan, who drove since I was too wimpy and she likes to help. Visited with my best friend, Leslie, who lives up the street and came over. (Yes, one can have two best friends.)

Later this week I get to see my chemo nurses. No, no chemo, but the monthly testing resumes in a few days. Much as I hate that part, I'm looking forward to seeing gentlewomen who have been with me for so long. It's their job, but they do care.

I'm home every day alone, and it should be boring, but it's not. Finding dust bunnies is boring, but since I rarely clean, who cares? Finding a long lost pin is NOT boring. Coming across books that I didn't even know we had - not boring. Reading (for the 1st time!) "The Adventures of Tom Sawyer" - so not boring. Now I'm reading all the other works of Sam Clemens/Mark Twain. I feel 16, full of adventure and curiosity. Exchanging e-mails with friends from the 60's and daughters of friends from the 80's - thrilling!

I keep thinking that my life should be so boring during this recovery, but it's not! I have no job. I rarely go anywhere due to pain. But, it's NOT boring. My mind is full at all times. Unless I'm sleeping, which does happen.

Now, must get a sonogram to find out why I'm in excruciating pain. Every night. Intestinal blockage? We'll soon know. Not eating is not the way I want to spend this coming Spring. That I never really learned how to be bored is good.

Talk, talk, talk...

I love to write, but I like to talk.

With friends and family mostly, but on occasion, I'll talk to people I don't know. That happened yesterday. Don't get me wrong...they asked me to talk to them. As in, I "gave a talk" at a local church yesterday afternoon. The pastor had invited me to come and talk to a women's group about "Don't Waste the Pain".

Since I was actually IN a lot of pain, it seemed the thing to do. (Side note: the ongoing pain of this ridiculously slow recovery is, yes, still torturing me daily.) However, if I keep busy enough, I can get through it without much effort. Distractions are welcome. Hint, hint.

My friend Leslie introduced me. Well, not me exactly, but someone I'd have loved to listen to myself. She made me sound great! (Leslie and I love each other, so it wasn't really a surprise to hear her gracious words.) So I got up and said, "Well, that Linda couldn't make it, so I came instead."

Then I talked about the book I wrote with David, discussing pain and how we get through it. Not having any option is one good way. And I've had few viable options the past ten years. Still, the pain has led to so many wonderful things, that it's almost... no, it's definitely been worth it.

You never know when something horrid is going to directly lead to something wonderful, maybe something that actually saves your life. I had a customer once who knew I had ovarian cancer. She told me this story: She was in a terrible auto accident. Many bones were broken; she suffered much pain and her car was totaled. BUT, during her surgery, the docs discovered extensive ovarian cancer in her body. They quickly changed course and operated on her as a cancer patient.

Her bones healed but even better, she was saved from a cancer she didn't even know was there. She lived to tell the story. Her awesome words to me were, "That horrid accident saved my life." I could certainly understand her attitude.

In some ways, my cancer saved my life too. I was not on a good path when it struck. I was not following the Lord in any certain way, and I was falling into a period of deep depression. The cancer and the support of Steve and all who loved me was what turned my life around. Yeah, the cancer saved my life.

Don't look at the bad or horrid things that come into your life as in and of themselves simply being horrid. Maybe they're just there as a precursor to things that would not otherwise happen. Wait. Live. Look around. And perhaps you'll see the blessings that come out of disaster and pain. It sure worked for me.

The Past...It Haunts Me

How much do you know about your own life? Your own past? I mean really. How much are you even aware of?

Want to know what I know about my own life? Well, here goes. Ten years ago when I first had cancer, friends whom we'd known for years but were not seeing on a regular basis anymore, had four young children. Our friends came to a point in their lives where they wanted to teach their young ones about prayer.

So, they had those kids begin to pray for Miss Linda, every night. Four young children who barely knew me, and would still not know me on the street today. And as they prayed, I went into remission. I had no idea of their prayers until recently. Those kids would not forget that they prayed, and God answered. Today, each one is a Believer. And me? I'm grateful for their prayers, I'm grateful for God's answer.

Now this: 41 years ago, (yes, 41) I knew a girl named Terri. We graduated, moved on, had families, lived our lives. Through a series of events that are too complicated to explain here, we are now in touch via Facebook. She referenced a memory unknown to me that really touched me, and I shared one memory unknown to her that moved her. Now she wants to share a pain that haunted her years ago, something I'd known about. She knows that I am the one person on earth who could identify with that long ago pain. Someone she loved died. Someone I loved died. It was the same young man, but it was her young man. My pain healed over time but it changed me; hers apparently never was completely healed. Maybe I can help.

So Terri and I will write again, perhaps even talk someday. We live over a thousand miles apart. We are unlikely to ever meet again. Yet, there is something that binds us. Healing can come.

And this: I wrote a "fan" letter to an author I admire. Three weeks later now, she has written back, we have learned we are both Believers, both writers, both have young sons with Asperger's, and her best friend has cancer, just like I do. I don't even know if I could find it on a map, but I now have a friend, one I'll also surely never meet who lives in UAE. Yeah, find that on the map. Trust me, I definitely plan to read her other books now! And I can always meet her in heaven. I'm sure we'll know who the other is on sight.

And finally this: Steve and I had a friend we loved who died @ 25 years ago. We loved her. She left behind 2 little daughters and a husband. Her brothers have remained our friends over time, but the little girls and their Dad had drifted from our life. Until lately. Again, without explaining how, I have reconnected with one daughter. She is now in her early 30's, and we have begun to correspond. I adore her wit and humor. I might never meet her or her own young children, but I can know her through our shared words.

Today, I'd almost call her my friend, sight unseen. If Catherine had known that one day her friend Linda might be friends with her own precious daughter, she would have praised God for that joy. But I praise Him myself, because it brings a woman I loved back, in some tiny way. And what a joy to meet and grow to know the woman this orphaned child has grown into.

My God, the internet has brought me such happiness and surprise this week. This blasted computer has actually made my life richer. Whodathunk? My painful past...the haunting is lessened. Reality is here.