What A Serious Illness Teaches

This time last year, I had just finished all of my chemotherapy and radiation, and was looking forward to having hair again. Since becoming a breast cancer survivor, some of my friends have asked, "how did you get through all of your treatments and keep a positive attitude?"

Well, truthfully, after the shock and disbelief, a person has two choices. You can either take flight or fight. I chose to fight and learned to look at the positive.

My family and I in our July 4th finest a week before my final chemo treatment.

The top 10 good things that happen when a serious illness touches you are:
10) People bring you lots of food.
9) You can nap anytime and no one blames you.
8) You can pretty much do anything you want, when you want, how you want, without getting into trouble. The 10 Commandments still hold true though.
7) You can fit into your skinny jeans again.
6) Eating fatty foods doesn't bother you anymore.
5) You gain courage to change what isn't working in your life.
4) Patience is much less when dealing with stupid actions/people.
3) Your personal relationships will either get stronger or blow apart. If they blow apart, they probably weren't good relationships to begin with and something you didn't have the courage before to change.
2) You have more empathy to others facing illnesses.
1) You want to make whatever time remains of your life fulfilling to you.

Personally being a young survivor has given me and my family the courage to simplify our lives. For example, we moved to a small town and downsized our house from 3,500 square feet to 2,450 square feet. This required us to shed furnishings that had no meaning to us. We also decided for me not to go back to work full-time and instead to develop volunteer and freelance work. It has made our marriage stronger. But one of the best things is now I have the courage not to just accept conditions, but to act for change.

Well, that's it for now. Wondering if this is helpful to anyone facing a serious illness.

The Wondering Texan

Happy Friday From the Coast

Today after I dropped off my kids at school, I snapped a few photos to send you off into the weekend.

I'm no photographer, but I think they came out pretty good. I did learn that stepping out of my air-conditioned car and into the humidity of the coast fogs up the lens quickly.

Happy Friday.

The Virgin Mary overlooking Fulton Beach

 

 

 

Boats awaiting a their captains.

Shrimp boats in dock at Fulton Beach

Bright colors are a sure sign you're at the coast

Wondering if it's too soon for a margarita?

The Wondering Texan

Dancing to Funky Cold Medina

Still smiling is good.

Several weeks ago I joined a water aerobics group at the local community pool in an effort to keep up my health.

At first, I think the ladies thought of me as a novelty. Or worse, as their daughter-in-law. I have been called Debbie, Diane or just plainly, "hey you." Last week I was even called "Fish bait."

Rhinestones on her hat and sunglasses don't outshine her personality.

But, yesterday, I walked in on a conversation in which I thought they were saying, "not many are doing it all. "It" being the full hour. However, with these ladies, "it" could have referred to just about anything.

I perked up. "I do," I said.

Turns out, they were really saying they don't know what they are going to do once our teacher relocates to Austin. Their response to me was, "Great, you're our new teacher!"

Say what? Me? Oh, that's funny!

Today when I showed up, I had completely forgotten about yesterday's conversation. Until one of them exclaimed, "Hey, our teacher is here!" 

So, we hit the water with our weights. We did crunches, cross country skiing , jumping jacks, and laps, all in the deep end.

Taking a break.

During the hour I was asked probably five times, "How old are you?"

Then, without notice, a few retreated back to the shallow end. So, I followed. They can't get rid of me that easily!

When the song "Funky Cold Medina" started playing, I couldn't help but shout, "OK ladies, freestyle dance! Come on, move your hips, shake that booty!"

I thought it was fun. But staring back at me were blank stares of disbelief. Then I got again, "how old are you?" But a few did start shaking their groove thangs. The lifeguards started laughing enjoying this impromptu Dancing with the Retirees segment.

So, we moved on to stretches. "Stretch out your left leg. Now, take it back behind your head," I said. Again, blank stares and shock. "I just had to see how many of you would try it," I laughed. Then, one of them pelted me on the back of my head with her noodle. "Vicky, that's not part of the exercise program," I said.

At the end of the hour, no one drowned, killed me or took a vote for another teacher. So I think it was a success.

Wondering if tomorrow I can get them to do the macarena?

The Wondering Texan

What to Do? What to Do?

Today my kids started back to school. While I appreciate the quietness of our house, it leaves me wondering "what to do?"

My friend Andrea and her family at Dallas Arboretum

My daughter's silly friends back in DFW

Since I've moved down here, I've been asked by people, "What do you do?" And for the first time in my adult life, I don't have a definitive answer. Sometimes, I feel like I have to justify myself and I usually say, "Well, I'm a freelance writer and a stay-at-home mom." Usually the response is "Oh, have you ever been published?" My husband usually laughs at this response.

So, I go on to explain. "Yes. I started out as a newspaper reporter, then a business journal reporter, then a public relations communicator, and now, I write some articles for a magazine."

Which usually prompts the next question. "What do you write about now?"

"Trains," I say.

Then, I can pretty hear the crickets chirp. Their brows scrunch up and they ask, "Trains? What kind of trains?"

"Usually, Class 1 freight trains," I respond.

The confusion still registers in their faces. "People read about trains? What can you possibly write about on trains?" they ask.

So, I tell them and then pretty soon, they excuse themselves to the bar, bathroom or kitchen. Talking about trains is NOT the way to make new friends. But, it does clear a room quickly!

But, back to I've got to find my groove here. So, I've decided to get assertive in meeting new folks and hopefully folks under the age of 60 (we live in a big retirement town). I'm going to take an art lesson. And volunteer (don't know where yet). And, I thought of even doing some mini profiles on some of the quirky people around here for this blog.  So, hopefully by Christmas, I will have a new friend or two. And I'm really praying that my kids will make cool new friends at school.

Last night, my husband told me I'm his best friend. And he's mine. So, I guess I have only one or two more people to find as friends to meet my quota.

Wondering where to start on my friendship quest.

The Wondering Texan

My Own Marley Experience

This is Pepper's usual afternoon.

Yesterday, after the kids and I worked on painting our breakfast room table, I had the great idea to take our German Short Haired Pointer, Pepper, to the beach for a little exercise. A special little treat for her since she has been so good.

I should have known I was being set up by the dog.

My daughter and I loaded the dog into the car and off we went to the beach where there's a section for dog owners. It's not gated off or anything, but a big sign saying "NO DOGS BEYOND THIS POINT!" gets the message across very well.


At first we waded in the water with the waves lapping against our legs. The sun was high, but the cool water, sound of seagulls, and the crush of sand between our toes lulled us into a false sense of security. So, we decided to let Pepper off her leash to swim.

The escape artist

Within about a minute Pepper darted off down the beach chasing a heron and other birds. We screamed "come back Pepper." But Pepper was enjoying her freedom too much. She quickly raced past the ominous sign never even glancing back.

My daughter and I tried every tone and trick we could from sweet, "Pepper, let's get treat," to the growl "Pepper, BAD DOG. GET BACK HERE!"

But, she continued her marathon running up to people sitting in their chairs, jumping over some boys burying their friend in the sand, and snooping around picnic baskets for food. I even got in the car and my daughter ran down the beach hoping the old "Come on Pepper, let's go for a ride," trick would work. But nothing did.

Then my daughter started to panic and begin balling. "We're never going to get her back!" she wailed. "Pepperrr is gone forever!"  Sniff, sniff.


"No, she's going to be fine. We're going to get her," I huffed to my daughter. While I was trying to comfort her, I kept thinking of that scene in Marley and Me when the dog races down the beach and poops causing the cops to give the owner a ticket. Well, I didn't get any ticket, but I got plenty of dirty looks especially from parents of young children. I just kept saying, "Sorry, sorry."


Finally, we got Pepper and gave her a good scolding. As her punishment, we put her in the kennel for a while. Then she got a bath. 

Wondering when it will be safe again for me to show up at the beach.

The Wondering Texan

The Family Who Paints Together

School starts in five days on August 22. And we're in countdown mode at hyper speed trying to cram as much into this week as the guy on Man vs. Food crams into his stomach minus the indigestion.

Over the weekend, my college friend Susan and her family visited from Dallas. So, we dashed to Padre Island and other local hot spots. I'm quickly figuring out the "itinerary" for visitors this being our second set in two weeks.

Blue, green, yellow and peach for the table

Then today the kids and I embarked on a craft project. Those who know me best know I'm not crafty. I don't do scrapbooks or make cute hair barrettes from felt like my sisters-in-law, or sew baby clothes or knit a stitch like many of my friends. My hands rarely hold a hot glue gun. Martha exhausts me just watching her. But, this project requires me to use a power tool which is interesting.

Taping the border for our design

After seeing dozens of painted furniture pieces in stores around here, I've decided that with a little patience, paint and creativity, the kids and I should paint our old breakfast table and chairs. It's a win-win situation. Spending family time, thinking creatively, saving money and using of my husband's power sander.We're painting it in cool-toned coastal colors and stenciling some sea life on the table. Day One went really well and kept the kids occupied for three hours.

Let the painting begin!

Of course, my daughter and I had creative differences. I prefer a messier, carefree look. Little Miss Type A prefers a more perfected look. When I asked her if she painted over my imaginative table leg she said, "Oh, that was on purpose? I didn't know." I responded, "you didn't like it did you?" She smiled and asked, "how did you know I was lying?" Mothers know these things.

My husband came home and said, "Wow, it looks...good. Really good so far." He had doubts? Then he tried to be helpful by giving us advice. Wrong move. The kids and I just rolled our eyes at him.

So, I'm hoping to finish this by Sunday. I'll keep you posted on its progress.

Wondering if I should varnish or apply a wax when finished?

The Wondering Texan

The Doctor was an Android; Cooking Vegetarian

Well, as promised, I will begin to tell of my experience in finding a new oncologist down in South Texas. And, well, it wasn't pretty.

Without going into much detail, a doctor was referred to me from a survivor down here. He may be great. I wouldn't know because my case was "traded" to this other doctor. When I asked why, he told me, "we trade cases all of the time." I didn't know this was the draft.

But, my first tip-off that he wasn't for me was when he entered the room and didn't introduce himself. I think if I had of introduced myself as Sheryl Crow, he wouldn't have noticed. Then he proceeded to literally thumb through my medical records eventually saying, "I know this doesn't look like I can read this fast, but I really can." 

He never asked me some pretty important questions such as "How are you feeling?" "Are you having any complications?" "Do you have any concerns?"

Found in the salad area of Walmart

So, the next day I called my former oncology nurse to get a reading. Am I really being this difficult? His reaction was laughter. Not a good sign. Then again, maybe nurses laugh at doctors all of the time.

A vegetarian meal my family liked

But, thank God for the Internet. My oncology nurse told me I could have all of my blood work and any CT scans down here, then just see the oncologist every six months. Yeah, problem solved.

And as I continue down the survivor path, I am trying to stay on the organic/all natural food route which isn't as easy as in Dallas/Fort Worth. But, last night, I did spring a vegetarian meal on my family. My husband lives for red meat. My kids think breaded chicken nuggets are fine dining. But, a girl has got to try.

So, I cooked spinach and ricotta-stuffed shells. I got all of the ingredients from Walmart including already diced butternut squash as a side. Here's the recipe:

20 jumbo pasta shells
24-ounce jar of marinara sauce (I combined marinara and vodka sauce)
2 15-ounce containers of low salt ricotta
2 cups organic fresh spinach, chopped
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
Garlic powder to taste
Salt, pepper, and red pepper flakes to taste
1 cup mozzarella

* Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Cook pasta to package directions and drain.
* Spread marinara sauce in the bottom of baking dish
* In a bowl, combine ricotta, spinach, Parmesan, salt, pepper, red pepper flakes, and garlic
* Spoon cheese mixture into cooked shells
* Drizzle a little more sauce over the top, sprinkle with mozzarella
* Bake about 10 to 12 minutes

While these baked, I sauteed the butternut squash in butter and sprinkle with brown sugar.

The results of my vegetarian meal? Well, my son ate every bite. My husband liked it and didn't ask "where's the beef?" And my daughter, who is the picky eater, first asked, "are these carrots?" Then she sniffed the pasta. But she ended up eating about half of her dinner. So, all in all, a successful venture.

Wondering if I can sneak two vegetarian meals on my family in a week? Nah.

The Wondering Texan
























 

Warming Up to the Neighbors the Lone Star Way

Well, over the weekend, I've been debating what to tell. I actually have two stories. A funny one about drinking Lone Star beer with neighbors on their boat in their driveway, and the other one about meeting a new oncologist. Which would you prefer? OK, I know, the beer swigging one.

So, last Thursday night I started walking my two dogs. The German Short Haired Pointer and our French Brittney Spaniel, Sophie, who is psycho. As usual, Sophie starts out barking and pulling no-stop. As I turn the corner of our street, two men and a woman are sitting on their boat in their driveway. The older man says something which, of course, I can't hear. It sounded like Charlie Brown's teacher's voice, "waa, waa, waa."

"What?" I asked. I was sure they were complaining. I'm making a great first impression.

I walked up to them laughing, "I'm sorry, I know she's the loudest dog on the block."

They replied, "We asked if you want a beer?" Then they fetch a Lone Star, push it in my hand and said, "Drink up." What neighborly neighbors Ken, Mike, and Brooke are.

After some small talk, I decide to finish my walk. "You're coming back aren't you?" they ask.

As I return back down the street, there they are again sitting on the boat. "You're back! Have another beer," they shout.

After a while I say that I'd better tell my husband where I am so he won't think I joined the Russian circus. "Bring him. There's plenty of beer," they reply.

My husband and I learn that this is how they prepare for a fishing tournament the next morning. Are you suppose to be drinking before a day in the hot sun on the water? But if they weren't bothered, then why should we be?

The beer continues to flow. "Umm, I'll have what she's drinking," I tell them. "See, not everyone drinks Lone Star," scolds Brooke who is drinking Bud Light Lime. "That's a chick beer," Ken and Mike tell me.  "Maybe she doesn't like Lone Star," Brooke snaps. "She drank one before," Ken said. "She was just being nice!" Brooke growls. They all look at me and I verify, "I was just being nice."

To make a long night short, turns out my family has been the talk of the neighborhood. "You guys have a lot of stuff. We saw all of that stuff coming off of the red moving truck," Ken said. "I like your blue pots," Brooke said. "You have a great fire pit in your backyard," Mike said.

Then, they give us the low down on neighborhood happenings. There's the oysterfest, the Christmas party and the hot dog roast.

"That sounds fun," my husband said. "Good, because your house hosts the hot dog roast in October," Ken tells us. 

Wondering how much Lone Star to buy for our hot dog roast?

The Wondering Texan

P.S.

I'll save the oncologist story for later this week. But to give you a heads up, he scolded me for asking if he treats patients aggressively and what his philosophy is.

99 Boxes in the Hall, You Break One Down, Take It Around, 98 Boxes...

I have found that one of the hardest things about moving and packing isn't necessarily having plenty of boxes and paper. It's getting rid of said boxes and paper, and other artifacts no longer needed.

Trash disposal in a small town is challenging and confusing. Back in my big city days, trash disposal was easy. We put bags, mattresses, boards, toys, lawn furniture, etc., out by the curb and poof, magically, it would disappear. Usually, people in trucks would pull up early on trash days and take what they wanted ahead of the trash collection men. It was a well oiled system.

Well, in this small town, apparently, no one wants another's trash.

For example, we had an extra full-sized mattress to shed and about, seriously, 200+ boxes. We put the boxes on Craig's List and only one young couple came to take some. So, we put a few out by the curb. Then we took the mattress to the Catholic church. Upon returning to our home, the boxes were still there minus about three boxes.

So yesterday was recycling day. Instead of making the same mistake, I patiently waited for the recycling guys. When I heard the varooom of their truck, I raced outside calling, "Sirs, wait. I need to talk to you." They looked at each other as if thinking, "Oh crap, this ain't going to be good."

They told me they would take the boxes if we broke them down in 2x2 sizes. Then they said, "the trash guys are supposed to take those. You just have lazy trash guys." Man, what a slam and the trash guys weren't even around to defend themselves.

Tomorrow a cardboard recycling company is suppose to come and take these dang boxes. I've also unloaded several on neighbors who are moving soon. But what a chore.

Wondering if I should tell the trash guys that the recycling guys dissed them?

The Wondering Texan