1 year

It's been one year. One long LONG year. Actually one long 16 months, but who's counting? I've been through the most mentally and physically changing experience that I've ever had the pleasure(?) to endure. My political and spiritual beliefs have been hardened since I've been living here. The desire to control my life's outcome is...how shall I say...more fiery. I've been working through depression and an uncertainty about my life that brings me to tears when I think of my kids.

My breast MRI from last week came out clear. I figured that since I didn't hear from them until a few days later when a letter came in the mail. The morning of the letter, me and the Judybat talked over our most feared words.

Interesting. Not so simple. Don't like the looks of it.

We talked about how we didn't hear the phone ring. During those times right after a test you're nervous and scared. I know my chances are around 84% survival for the next 10 years, but that 16% brings me to my knees. Someone has to be that. There has to be population control. That's what disease is for. So I'm still scared, but the further I get out I feel a little better.

Something good!

I move on Friday into an adorable house with garden! Tomorrow PA paints the kitchen and livingroom, and we go get the other colors. The landlord is paying us back for the costs of the paint. So it's not all doom and gloom with me! We're still alive and kicking, and we can't wait to get back to a town we consider HOME.

Time to Wait

This past week has been busy. I've readying my family for a move and cleaning up this house after a week or so of no old folks. I got a call Saturday from Judy saying that they'd be home on Monday. I was expecting them home on Friday. Oops. That meant clean clean clean like a banshee before said banshee comes home and my hearing gets noticeably worse.

Today I finally got what I wanted, an MRI. ooo. I know your jealous.

I really didn't want one, but you know...better safe than sorry. I think I've been poked by needles at least a thousand times since my conception. Sometimes the nurse is an effing saint/aritist poking my sad little veins quickly, cleanly, and painlessly. Other times…not so much. Today my Nurse Betty was a rather SLOW LMH nurse who couldn't figure out how to coax my tired, angry veins into plump, happy, and excited-to-be-stuck-again ones. She wasn't my favorite by far, but then she didn't blow out anything. It's really the small things in life that make me smile.

Lying in the tube on my stomach with my boob(s?) in the boobbox was interesting as usual. I learned that hospitals think that earplugs and earphones blaring in Star 102 actually shut out the noise of the contraption. They don't, not one bit, and unfortunately I couldn't drown out the radio either. I still don't know what's worse...pop music or deafening metallic banging. Thankfully I'm part of that delightful generation that suffers from premature hearing loss, and my memory is still foggy from last year's drugfest, so maybe I won't remember why my ears seem to hear a little less later on.

Now that's over with. I wait. I'm waiting to move, waiting hear back on this adventure, and waiting for the old folks to come today and holler about something. At least I don't have wait to further damage my ears.

Little bit of heaven...little bit of hell

I've complained constantly about my stint here in Shawnee. Yes, I would prefer to live elsewhere and we all know where that elsewhere is. It is after all the only place I've found in Kansas to live and raise offspring, but there's something here that I'm going to miss terribly.

Monday after a long and cranky day at work (no one's fault) I came home and opened all of the windows. The sun started shining after a very long absence, and the temperature was perfect. The last window I opened was my bathroom window. This window has a great view of the woods, the neighbors' now huge pond, and the ten horses running on the pasture surrounding the pond. I've watched hawks, foxes, deer, possums, horses, dogs, cats, birdgalore, snowstorms, and rainstorms from this window.

When I opened the window a cool, sweet breeze blew in giving me what is the closest thing to a spiritual epiphany that I've ever had. The air was filled with birds and frogs and nothing else. There were no human sounds anywhere. The animals were alive and happy that the rain had let up, and the world was beautiful again. They were singing their hearts out.

I sat down. I breathed. I listened. I took all that clamor in.

I swear there's no heaven except after a storm when the euphoria that comes after sets in. That's the only heaven I've ever seen, and the only one that anyone can convince me of. I couldn't help smiling and was almost sad that I was moving.

Then I heard cars, lawnmowers, and the garage door opening. People were coming home from there daily commutes and starting up their noisy machines. I heard the proverbial record scratch. ugh. Time to go back to "life".

I love this place but hate it also. But I guess you can't have it perfect. That'd be heaven, and like I said I don't believe that place exists.

As an FYI…I don't believe in hell either…unless you count Crawford, Texas.