Happy Halloweenie

Best Laid Schemes

I'm a big planner. Planning affords the illusion of control of which I know (fer shure) I have little. So along with friend I've known since I was 5 years old, PK, we've planned a trip this weekend to celebrate our existence, Halloween, our friendship, new friends and faded anniversaries.

We will drive to Sonora ("Queen of the southern mines") to meet another friend who is a writer/author. Saturday, we drive to Murphys, ("Queen of the Sierra") where we may take part in a cemetery walk. We also have the option of dinner at Murphy's Historic Haunted Hotel. (I added the haunted part.) On Sunday, a quick road trip to Yosemite (Queen of National Parks - I made up the subtitle) to see some autumn splendor. Yosemite should be beautiful this time of year. Finally, we'll stop in Copperopolis ("Hidden Gem of the Sierra Foothills") (too small a town to have a website) to see Sherri on Monday. Then a short drive back home to the bay area.

Sherri's husband, Howard died Wednesday night --nothing like putting a damper on things, Howard! Early Wednesday email, I wrote telling Sherri that we would come by to visit them on Monday. Then Howard took a turn for the worse mid-day Wednesday -- at the mere thought of a visit from me, he started going downhill. I asked Sherri if she thought that by just knowing I was going to make an appearance was that what encouraged him to go? She laughed, and wrote that if he really knew I was coming, he'd stick around longer. Then he died. So much for having a positive effect. So much for the planning. To tell you the truth, if I were the one dying and I knew I was coming for a visit, I'd leave too!

Howard is my sister-in-law's father. He had been fighting cancer for a long time, on and off for years. He'd even gone to Germany to seek a cure though they didn't have one for him. I met Howard a few times at family functions, we never spoke much. I became friends with Howard's wife, Sherri, through her experience knowing Howard was dying because Sherri occasionally read my blog and knew that I had helped Greg die. If helping Greg die made me an expert on the subject, I'll take it!

I am more sad for Sherri (and my family members who were close to Sherri and Howard) than Howard. Howard suffered enough. Sherri has a great sense of humor and used humor to get through much of Howard's illness and dying. People handle death and dying as well as they can, especially when it's your first time. How to act, what emotions come out are all guess work. I told Sherri in email that I felt I should be more reverent instead of trying to be funny along with her. She said it helped her focus in his last hours. Sherri wrote, "Reverence has NO place at this stage, only puns n laughter if you knew Howard you'd know he'd agree - no one could laugh like Howard!" Howard finally finds much deserved relief from suffering, while Sherri's life is changed in ways she never imagined. We will stay good friends.

If everything is okay, we'll visit Sherri on Monday. I told PK to bring funeral clothes just in case. This time the cemetery walk could be for real.

"Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,

An' weary winter comin fast,

An' cozie here, beneath the blast,

Thou thought to dwell,

Till crash! the cruel coulter past

Out thro' thy cell."

Robert Burns To a Mouse

Farmer's Market Frenzy

Before we hit the farmer's market, we stopped for coffee, a cup of cocoa, and met a cute yellow lab puppy.

There were no farmers at the market so we settled for real things like peppers and gourds.

I tasted one "farmer's" version of chai. I asked him if he had been to India? He said yes but he didn't seem sincere. I am not sure I trust his answer. (It's probably projection of my own insincerity ala Linus of Charlie Brown fame.) I could have quizzed 'chai guy' more. Instead I bought some of his mulling spices. I love mulling. What the heck is mulling?

I built a fire in the wood stove last night and put the mulling spices into the pot of water on top of the stove. When I came home from buddha class, my house smelled of oranges, cinnamon and other mull-ey type things. The smells were wonderful. Reminded me of a cold autumn night.

Then my electricity went out until morning so it *was* a cold autumn night.

Ashes to Ashes

There's a fire in the mountains. I noticed the smoke rising, billowing over the ridge to the east early Saturday morning (around 5:30 am) though I thought the smoke was fog. (I should probably stop thinking.) This is the same thought I had at the beginning of the last fire around a year ago. At the beginning of last year's fire, I saw a similar "fog" billowing over the ridge to the east, thinking to myself that that "fog" was billowing and blowing kind of fast for fog though sometimes fog billows and blows in these mountains. It does! That the fog had an evil red glow to it still didn't phase me. It was plain to see that the red glow came from the sun rising out of the east behind the fog. There were no planes or helicopters early Saturday morning though they're out in force today.

I found out midday that one of the women who attended the Courageous Women event at the Shambhala Mountain Center, died. She was 49 years old. I never said much more than a simple hello to her. She seemed very shy - either that or I'm the shy one (I think you and I know that answer.) This woman was already under hospice care. Communicating with her may have been difficult for me...Someone said she was already in hospice, and subconsciously, I knew it was too late to form a lasting friendship, a bond with another human? If this is the case, why speak to anyone?

Throughout the retreat, each time she spoke, tears came, and those tears were not just from her. Witnessing her dilemma was difficult though still incredibly human. (Really, this *stuff* is the human stuff, not that crap we bitch about on a daily basis). I wondered -- how did this woman attend a social event (while being in hospice) without spinning TF(!) out of control?

I wonder if I would have been able to attend with similar dignity? I know I would have cried the entire time, feeling horrified and embarrassed that I cried so much. So many times I feel like when we cry in front of people, it takes one hell of a lot more courage than it takes fighting to keep the tears away, pretending to be something you aren't, pretending not to be devastated, crushed. Maybe this woman felt the same as me? Maybe it was hard for her to communicate knowing what she knew. And now I'll never know because I was too busy thinking about my own needs to ask about hers.

White Fairies & Black Mustaches

One thing I put aside, did not do or neglected when I was in my last relationship  - something that I really enjoyed was getting up early on Saturday morning, going for coffee and then, visiting the farmer's market. I've been going more often. I'll be going today. 

We're getting ready for Halloween up in heeere (to quote our good friend, Miz). We still have work to do on the disguise. I asked he "What are you going to be?" And she said, "A White Fairy!" I heard from her grandma that a white fairy has butt cheeks that hang out a bit so the white fairy wasn't so keen on that costume. Maybe she'll want to wear the mustache I bought her. It would go perfectly with a white fairy costume.

I am making my plans for next weekend with the help of friends. It's going to be a great way to celebrate what would have been my anniversary. Originally I was invited to a wedding of a long time lovely friend of mine though I declined because I was concerned about attending other people's wedded bliss when my own (what I thought was) bliss was blown apart. Now I'm sure I could handle the wedding though we've got something very good in the works regardless. Whatever happens, I'll have a good time and use the weekend as practicing to be present in those moments. If I spend any time moping about my past, I'll miss my weekend.

I'm off to the market to buy me a farmer!

Pay Attention!

Why are there so many books to read? I am amazed at my list of "to reads" and how the list is growing by leaps and bounds. Why did Mary Karr publish another book? Now I'm going to have to add her new book to my to read list. How many memoirs can come out of one author? If you have not read any of her books, stop reading this nonsense and check out Cherry. I'm on Goodreads (join if you have the extra time to devote to the actual listing of your ever-expanding list of books) and we can discover more books we want to read.

In the meantime (or at least until I crack open another book), I have been trying to be more conscious which is truly difficult. First, I have to remind myself to remember to be conscious. Then I have to be conscious once I remember to remember. I'll try a little meditation practice (practice in so far as I'm practicing to start a practice once I remind myself to remember to be conscious) where I take as many as 2 - (to possibly) 3 breaths total, and then in the middle of breathing, I often forget what I am doing and fall into unconsciousness - (not complete unconsciousness though I slog back into the usual trance-like behavior - similar to everyone else on the planet.) Then I might start my practice over again once I remember to remind myself to remember that I'm trying to be more conscious.

But because I am practicing the reminding of remembering to be more conscious - and that consciousness comes in brief lightening-flash moments of clarity, I've noticed some extraordinarily beautiful things. Maybe I am only now noticing because I am getting old(er), and subconsciously (unconsciously) know time is limited -- certainly my desire to be more conscious comes out of aging. I have to soak up all of life before time runs out. Yet still, what a gift to notice the beauty that when I was younger, I let slip by without giving a thought.

Wednesday's Child

(Warning! The following post may make you feel oogie though only if you are a pathetic whining wuss!)

My visit this morning with Dr. LePew went without incident, (no split peas were harmed during this appointment). We shared our greeting of "bon jour, Docteur LePew, como se va?" Then the requisite discussion of recent weight loss (which he mentions each visit), the inevitable twenty minute wait in the 65 degree exam room, sans pants, clutched to the exam table with a too-small drape (paper does not drape anyway and fabric is much harder to shred in twenty minutes), starring at the poem taped on the ceiling as a distraction from the noise of the chainsaw in a distant exam room, mulling over whether Wednesday's Child was full of woe or does Thursday's child really have all that far to go? Finally, Docteur arrives, washes his hands (there *is* a god), grabs a pair of purple latex gloves, and prepares for the exam.

I mentioned my latest (dis)appointment with my regular gynecologist, who during my annual exam did not perform several annual tests except to feel for breast lumps, and look up there. Dr. LePew said when I see the other doctor again, if he does not do these things, I need to fire him.

While we're speaking Dr. LePew performs the pap smear (*chainsaw noise*) and I mentally move into my body to enable a better understanding of the performance. This is not meant to be exciting because I'm in there to learn. He's scraping, not swirling the plastic scraping thingie (medical term alert!) as I my mind had pictured. He told me while he was scraping that he was at/near the apex of the uterus and he was moving the instrument around, not just scraping from one place. He added that prior to a diagnosis of endocrine (uterine -- pronounced ute-RHYNE) cancer, "the pap smear is not a useful diagnostic tool" -- though post ute-rhyne cancer diagnosis, "the pap smear is a [very] accurate tool for recurrence."

I thought you might want to know that when you go for your annual and the doctor performs (or does not perform) the tests, pap smear etc., he's only checking for one kind of cancer unless you have a tumor growing off your forehead and he actually looks up at your forehead. This makes me wonder how many different kinds of cancer we could actually *get* down there? I suppose you can get any-kind-of-part-you-can-name cancer (and the tests are few and far between until the cancer has manifested it's ugly little cancery head) and unless the tumor is hanging out, bulging, pus-filled and/or sprouting wings there aren't a lot of annual tests except the test for cervical cancer, the infamous pap smear.

Docteur said that about 75% of recurrence occurs near the apex of the uterus. Or --- the cancer can recur in the rectum. Docteur also said that (a large percentage of) colon cancers are felt within a finger's length of the rectum (not down the line using the big hose that the colonoscopee-ers use).

While Dr. LePew performed the rectal exam, I climbed back in there (so to speak) though he also explained what he was doing while he was doing it. Over the noise of the power drill and chainsaw, he seemed delighted that I wanted this detail. Docteur said he has to feel with a finger in the vagina and one (hopefully) finger in the rectum to feel that space between the two. I wanted to know the detail so I can write about it here and either offer information you may not know about (this process with regard to) endocrine or ute-rhyne cancer, or make queasy people vomit.

I don't have to see docteur until April which means I have graduated although I'm not quite what prizes I qualify for at this level. I asked the docteur about chemotherapy causing other cancers (because this subject had come up in another support group last week). He said chemotherapy doesn't cause other cancers though he went on to say that radiation *can* cause cancer. With regard to my cancer diagnosis, I have chosen not to have radiation (except for an already life-time of assorted x-rays, and post-cancer diagnosis, countless CT scans and one MRI).

I suppose I really am doomed, what with all that radiation, being born on a Wednesday, split pea soup coming out my..., oh, my, yet, depending on one's definition of doomed, aren't we all if you really stop to think about it?

Overall, Dr. LePew said he was really impressed with me, (my health and I) -- though his impression (ended up - pun intended) having nothing to do with the split pea soup. And I ate more soup for lunch today - look out world!

Recipe for Disaster

I'll be away for awhile this morning visiting Dr. LePew, my french-loving gynecological oncologist. He has to perform double-duty from my last gynecologist visit, when that doctor neglected the "smear" and the rectal exam.

Dr. LePew has mentioned repeatedly that "if you do not get a rectal, you've been cheated." He was right. I felt cheated when I didn't get my rectal during that last exam.

However, this morning, I'm not so sure I'm up for the visit. I made some split pea soup night before last and split pea soup is all I've eaten in between spinach smoothies for breakfast and the occasional stool softener.

Parlez vous split pea?

Recovering from Recoverers

Over the weekend I took a class on attachment and recovery. I am not actively in recovery though many people in attendance mentioned that they were "in recovery," however, by Saturday morning when many of those people did not show up for the all-day class, I found myself hoping they recover again soon.

When the time came for my turn to say why I was taking the class, I started to say I had an "interest in..." though quickly changed my statement to say that I had "issues with regard to addiction." I am interested in the subject of addiction though I felt like with my statement I was somehow trying to 'remove the addict -- from the me' yet the whole room seemed to know where I was coming from - denial. I had the distinct feeling that they were onto my dodgy response to my drug of choice. They too are experts in denial.

My attachment and addiction are self-diagnosed. I have not gone to AA or NA or OA or any A. I am learning. I have confessed that I'm a food addict though it probably goes much deeper. Maybe I am addicted to fat and I need food to keep up my fat addiction. I could be addicted to huge underwear. If I eat too much, my butt gets bigger. Then I calm myself down by shopping at Big Underwear R Us to buy larger sizes. I dunno. As I said I'm learning and part of my learning is trying to keep an open mind.

Taking the class was good insofar as I was able to find out from the instructor that I am only as messed up as my mind thinks I am, and my mind is increasingly (decreasingly?) not allowed to run the business of me. I am starting to actively separate my mind from reality because my mind keeps busy thinking nonsense about this, that or the other while the present moment is at hand. I need to be present in these present moments. The instructor had a poster that mentioned the concept of the chit-chattering monkey mind on one side and crazy-ass obsessive-compulsive, nonstop-thinking, koo koo nutcase mind on the other side. I immediately reached for a banana, making ooh ooh ooh sounds and scratching my armpit. I am not all that messed up after all - plus I came to class both days - so there!

During a break on Saturday I went outside the room, and watched the fish swim in their pond. There were some healthy goldfish in that pond. I was reminded of the pond that we'd made at my house a year ago. The pond is still thriving though the fish had, early on -- been eaten by raccoons. The first night the raccoons visited, the only thing I didn't do was serve the fish with tarter sauce. (What is the saying about shooting fish in a barrel?) It was THAT easy for the raccoons to get the fish out of the pond. I was heart-sick when I saw the destruction that had occurred overnight.

On Saturday while by the pond, another woman standing near asked why these pond-fish did not get eaten by raccoons? We spoke briefly about the fish in this pond comparing fish in my pond -- the fish served with lemon wedges and butter sauce. The woman seemed to sympathize with my story briefly but then she suddenly turned on me (she didn't really 'turn on me') and said, "Are you a vegetarian?"

Here I was moaning about raccoons killing my fish, and I was nailed practically red-handed by a non-flesh-consuming (thin!) human over my glorified and casual mentioning of the munching of other sentient beings. I hadn't even thought to be sad about a drumstick (I thought they just came in that shape!?) or lose sleep over the shrimp on my bar-bee. I suddenly felt consumed with guilt though I felt a bit defensive and wanted to say to her, "Well, are you a vegetarian!?" (She probably was. This is Santa Cruz. Dammit!)

I guess if I'm going to share my feeling of compassion for pond fish and make the mistake of mentioning it out loud, I need to become a full-fledged vegetarian otherwise someone is going to call me on my shit in these recovery classes. I guess it would have been too much to ask for her to stay away that second day with the rest of her people.

Hold Your Head Up High

Yesterday after a treacherous drive through mud, boulders and trees, I arrived at my dark, unheated house. I rushed to clear out debris from the rain gutters, water overflowing everywhere. Rain pelted down. After the gutters, I got the generator started and the fridge plugged in.

OMG!!! NOT THE FOOD!?

Say it isn't so.

When there is no electricity, the pump that forces water to my house won't function either. I can flush and/or shower though I have to be perfectly clear on which is more important in the long run.

There's something about living on the side of a mountain - an ancient landslide in a storm that gets the ole adrenaline flowing. It's like at the beginning of the movie, The Wizard of Oz, when Auntie Em and Uncle Henry are running around getting the chickens and horses into the barn. There's tons of chores and the farmhands are out playing Farmville on Facebook. You are on your own. Everything seems ragged and raw. Soon, night will settle though there will be no calm in with the dark. And where the hell is Uncle Henry when you need him? He dun pussy'd-out, movin back to the city.

Living in these mountains takes tremendous courage at times -- (or stupidity), though when I lived in the city, it took a different kind of courage (and stupidity) to endure the noise, intrusion and chaos. My last city "neighbor" (worked on overgrown trucks (proving his tiny little genitalia) with oversized tires parked in his front yard) poured used motor-oil and anti-freeze into the gutter, the mix pooling into a greenish luminescent goo in front of my house. He was nice to cars (detecting a pattern here?) though wildlife could get screwed, to hell with the neighborhood - there was no integrity.

A quiet morning in the forest without interruption from the bleating of a semi-truck backing up or the din of traffic nearby is soul poetry. Not a day goes by that I don't feel truly blessed and grateful to live among these redwoods, though a day like yesterday will try the hardiest of creatures.

While the upside of living here is beauty, nature, serenity, and solitude, the downside is loneliness, slow internet and little-t0-no assistance in storms, earthquakes or dying. The birds, skunks and bunnies don't give a rats about your ass. After all, it was you who intruded on their peace. Deer might give a passing glance though they'll go right on nibbling your most cherished plants. If you fall through the deck, your ass hitting the ground ten feet below, you have to pick yourself up. In other words, if you choose to live on the banks of Shitcreek, don't expect any help when it overflows. You are on your own. And well after you're dead and gone, the animals and plants will grow up right over your creaky ole house that was built on that ancient landslide as if you never even existed, and that's an even scarier thought than being alone in a dark house on a very stormy night.

(Oct 15th -- Still no electricity. Ruined food. Stinky fridge. Water running low. Life goes on. The beauty is in the landscape and the landscape is in the beauty. You take what you can get and show appreciation in those brief, beautiful moments.)

Feel Your Babies

Don't you just love the color pink and all the pink hoopla for breast cancer month? I do! (I' m not that fond of pink, really, though I am 100% okay with hoopla.) Ovarian cancer has the color teal...teal is so last month. People who suffer from uterine cancer don't have a whole month dedicated to their cancer. Though the color beige is part of our mighty battle cry, pasty and pale as it is; (not worth a whole month!)

Could you imagine a poster for uterine cancer?

Feel Your Uterus!

Well, I would feel my uterus but you surgically removed it!

The color beige really sends out quite a message (get new glasses! Choose a better colored cancer!) I mean if a person could actually see the color beige, it's possible for it to send a message.

Until I figure out what the month is for uterine cancer, this month (aka October) you can make your own facebook icon or blog icon using boobicon. It's kind of cool if you want to be pink for breast cancer awareness month. I don't mind being pink as long as it's only one month out of the year. This is all about feeling the boobies. Your own, not some random woman on the street. I still have a job and still have some health insurance so my mammogram was this morning at 8:45 am, and after all that squishing (and hesitation --I hate the hesitation!) they gave me a pink mint. I must have some badass morning breath.

Photo of author feeling her own boobies as a baby.

And then, go feel your babies cuz they are so freaking cute and they need all the attention they can get.

Let Go!

I went to the farmers market this morning -- bought more cauliflower, almost bought the deep purple stuff to make soup out of though I thought if I made purple soup, I may not be able to eat it.

I listened to Eckhart Tolle on Speaking of Faith earlier today. The program didn't broadcast the entire interview, and I wanted to hear the talk so I went to the website, Speaking of Faith. Then I clicked on something about the Dali Lama and the Fetzer Institute and then, the campaign for love and forgiveness and found an online 'letting go' ritual. I went through the ritual once (so far). As soon as the music started, the tears started. I must have a lot of forgiving to do. 

From the website:

"A ritual is a series of focused actions taken with a specific goal in mind. In this case the goal is to let go and forgive. While the term is often used in a spiritual setting, many communities and individuals from therapists to business consultants now use mindful action as a tool to break through tightly-held patterns of thought and behavior."

I am going to go through the forgiveness ritual again. I know I got me some tightly-held patterns of thought and behavior. If I can find forgiveness for  myself some of my tightly-held patterns of thought and behavior, I might get around to making me some purple soup.

A-h-h-h...Resilience

I spent some of yesterday away from work with a friend I've known since 1987. We had a wonderful time together. It was only a few hours though time well spent and richly deserved.

We talked about another friend's loss and our discussion caused some of my own sadness to resurface throughout the conversation. I have not cried in awhile though this friend of mine represents some of those beautiful mother qualities that I still yearn for and have not found otherwise. It's not that I did not get them from my own mother. My mom introduced me to these qualities.

I was reading Salon this morning and found this lovely blog post about another woman's grief and loss. The post is called Grieving, I Choose to Make it About Living. Please take some time to read. My most favorite line:

"For when we accept that the choice is ours, then we have understood the preciousness of any time we are allowed."

Design on a Dime

I had to get my head eyes examined this morning. I'm getting new lenses in my used frames. I paid a fortune for these frames about two years ago because I figured I'd be dead by now with the cancer diagnosis, and it wouldn't matter how much I paid. With this eye exam, I found out my eyes have not changed. But lenses are scratched and still under warranty so I get new lenses for free (sort of).

The price I'm paying is wearing these loaners for a week. Can you tell that the glasses I'm wearing are loaners or do they look normal? My son said they looked like something I would buy and wear. I had a choice of zebra stripes or sunglasses that I'd have to wear indoors. And no way would I wear sunglasses in doors. Nothing like drawing attention to yourself.

People Who Need People

Sunday was an absolutely glorious day. The temperature was around 45 degrees when I went outside early morning to run a few errands. I met my brother for coffee. We sat in the sun and talked. When I finished the whole "take time for me" thing I got into my car for the drive home.

I started contemplating this cool, crisp autumn day - the bounties of nature, the bounty of my consciousness of the day. Feelings started coming up. I felt sentimental, sad, missing people. Ideas were coming in fast about what I would have been doing if I were still with people? Then I thought about Greg and what he might be doing dead? (I have no idea what the dead do - sometimes I wonder?) I felt sentimental, sad -- disconnected. I was in mourning. My heavy heart, hopeless and broken.

Typically I'd spend a beautiful day with someone I loved. Maybe we'd take a drive -- down to Monterey or Big Sur. We'd drive past Sand Dollar beach where he spent many hours as a child with his folks and sister while they camped, the sadder times when his mom was dying of cancer. He would tell me that story again, and I wouldn't mind. Maybe he and I would have planned a picnic, (definitely food would be involved); wine and bread and thou.

I want to matter. I want to belong, to feel connected to someone and some thing. Occasionally I long for a life I do not have, yet the life I am living is pretty incredible. Why I find inspiration in negative self-talk is beyond comprehension. When will I take notice of abundance over lack? Can I make an appointment?

Taming my mind is like trying to get a room full of 5 year olds to nap at the same time -- I have to keep making the effort because I kinda like to think I'm the one in charge.

On that resplendent afternoon, once I noticed that I was in self-sabotage mode, I made the effort to cease my negative (chit) chatter, deciding that *it is* possible to matter and connect with myself on such a wondrous day as it was this past Sunday.

A Tale of Yellow

Thanks to everyone who so generously contributed their heart-wrenching stories, thoughts, time and remembrances for LIVESTRONG Day 2009. I want to send everyone a token of appreciation. If you want a LIVESTRONG rubber bracelet, let me know by emailing your address and I'll send one out (email is on blog). I have to order more than I have though that should not be a problem unless the LIVESTRONG Army ran out of them last week. I still have other give-aways to award that are not yellow rubber bracelets. I will put every contributor's name in the chemo hat and we will draw names and notify the winners.

Below I compiled all the contributor posts of which I am aware. I'd like to support LIVESTRONG Day again next year similarly though it would be great to have more people involved. Maybe we can join with the food bloggers and double our efforts. Maybe plan on raising funds in honor of the day.

Bloggers who contributed posts/or stories:

Reb writes about the struggle with her own cancer. Miz wrote about our friendship, saying some very kind things. Pubsgal writes about people who've survived, people she knows who have cancer, and remembers her friends and relatives who've died. My UK friend Sandhy writes about her own horrific ovarian cancer diagnosis. Trish told us about that she has friends and now family with cancer. Crabby over at Crankyfitness talked about why she hates cancer in a very funny though poignant post. Irene entitled her post It's all about the Yellow. She is a 11 year survivor of ovarian cancer!

Lee over at Journey to Fitville wrote about Karen having leukemia. Being a big time read (and a former book store owner) Lee offers suggestions for books about the cancer experience. She went on to say that one day she's going to suggest my book. Thanks, Lee. I better get on that. ;-) I need to read The Mercy Papers.

Karen wrote about her own cancer experience and how she found strength and an attitude she did not know she had previously. Amy wrote about her aunt and her sister. Her aunt died at age 39 (!) of breast cancer while thankfully her sister is still alive. Sassy Stephanie not only raises money and awareness for multiple sclerosis but watched her own husband undergo cancer treatment this past year. Shelley wrote about her beautiful grandmother, Maggie, and posted some lovely photos of same, while Kim wrote about her granddaddy and his battle with the disease.

The Baglady wrote about her mother, and her sisters who died from cancer except thankfully dear Reb is with us. (Reb is mentioned above.) Roxie over at Gravel and Rust wrote her own cervical cancer diagnosis and how she was inspired to get healthier post cancer. P/F wrote about her son's birthday, health care, and a friend she went to school with who had melanoma. (Plus she posted a picture of some wonderful cupcakes!) Workout Mommy graciously took up the challenge doing some much needed fundraising for LIVESTRONG. She took that ball and ran...

Pam is a food blogger writing over at Lobster and Fishsticks. She posted a recipe for a yummy Thai-Spiced Limabean dip - the color yellow to honor the day with A Taste of Yellow. Happyfunpants wrote about a few people in her life who've been affected by cancer and let her readers know that "cancer can suck it." Jody at Truth2beingFit wrote about LIVESTRONG Day as well as several people she knows who have been affected by cancer.

CJ lives just over the hill from my house. She writes at Shopping Karma and tells us about the day she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. She is only 39. There should be a law against that! FitJerk stopped by for the first time (as far as I'm aware). He had written a post about spreading the word about the promotion for LIVESTRONG Day. Thanks, FitJerk! (JERK?)

Over at The Great Fitness Experiment, Charlotte (who also writes for HuffPo) wrote a lovely remembrance of her grandfather and included several other relatives who had cancer in her tribute.

Some people stopped by well-wishes and to thank us for considering the project. Thanks to everyone who commented -- Dr. J, Messymimi, Diane, Dinneen, Leah, AnnieLaurel, Fitarella, Lisa, TB, Kris, Ashwee and Barbara. I was stunned by the amount of page traffic though people aren't always in the mood to talk about cancer. It takes courage to face cancer and to face the sadness that comes with illness in general.

Through the experience I have new Facebook friends including Clown Noses for Cancer, and Twitter friends including LIVESTRONG and someone with the last name of Armstrong following me on Twitter. Now if I could only think of something twitty to say.

My heart is filled from this experience and I am grateful for all the support, and I am definitely feeling the love for the LIVESTRONG folks. And don't forget to sign the Healthcare reform petition at Livestrong.org

I'd like to encourage you to visit Barbara (she has her own cancer story) at winosandfoodies.com (I love me some food blogs!) and check out her efforts in promoting LIVESTRONG Day with the yearly A Taste of Yellow . She's been doing this for years! People contribute recipes from all over the world for a Taste of Yellow and some of the recipes look really yummy.

If there are people who posted blogs about cancer that you are aware of that you think need to be listed here, please send the urls.

Again, thanks so much for your kindness, generosity and spirit. Your contributions helped make LIVESTRONG Day a success.

P.S. We made page 2 of the LIVESTRONG Army flickr page with the photo of my nephew and his friend. And we made the front page of the montage on their blog. # 6 down on the right side.

LIVESTRONG Day 2009

My nephew Mattie (in yellow beanie) with his fashionable Lance Armstrong yellow slicker modeling crew.

I just signed the LIVESTRONG Action petition to tell our leaders in Washington that any health reform bill must include two principles:

• No American should be denied health insurance coverage because of pre-existing conditions.
• No American should lose their insurance due to changes in health or employment.

Will you join me and sign the LIVESTRONG Action petition?

I found out this morning that I share this cancer-versary with both Liz and Lance! I've had about 4 hours of sleep. Well, boo hoo! I figured if I slept another hour, what's 5 hours? (not enough sleep, that's what!)

I arrived home late last night from school where I'm learning how to take life less seriously. Or maybe I'm learning how to ride the BIG waves instead of allowing them to knock me off my board. (?) School is helping. Being alive helps. Blogging helps. Sleep would help if I only I could get some.

When you are looking through the comments below, please go visit and read these commenters blogs. Find inspiration in their stories, whether they suffered from a cancer diagnosis or they shared in the care of a loved one; there is inspiration to be found all around us and isn't that why we are here?

Today (Food and Wine) bloggers and now us as well as others are coming together to honor this LIVESTRONG Day 2009 as the 13th anniversary of Lance Armstrong's cancer diagnosis and the 2nd anniversary of my diagnosis and now the 2nd anniversary of Liz's cancer diagnosis and who else? Lance doesn't know it yet though we are all going to celebrate this day every year for the rest of our lives. I used to think Lance Armstrong was no big deal until I was diagnosed with cancer. Now he is larger than a bill board.

Fridays are notoriously slow blog days and we are unifying today as one way of supporting the Lance Armstrong Foundation by raising awareness of cancer issues world-wide. It is a way for bloggers to share their stories, poignant, devastating, thrilling, celebratory and triumphant.

Please leave a comment below with a link to your post. I'll put all your names/comments in a chemo-hat and pick 14 names of folks who will *win* a small though significant LAF token of appreciation for helping us come together to commemorate the day. Lance Armstrong wants our government to put Cancer at the Top of the Global Agenda.

P.S. I have no yellow clothes but this rain slicker so that's what I'm wearing to honor the day (well, just for that one moment I took the photo.)

Borrowed this pic from winosandfoodies.com. I love it! Edible Armstrong bracelets. Not!

Ire & Mirth

I did not learn much in class last night though throughout the evening I was seated next to this man who's easily ten years younger than I. We laughed and giggled through the entire class - like two pesty kids in the back of the class (only we're seated in a circle with other adults). Finally, he grabbed his side and winced. It looked like he had really been injured. I asked if he had a broken rib? He said, "No -- a pulled muscle from laughing."

At the end of the night, he turned, still laughing, and thanked me "for the laughter" while I stayed behind to purchase a book on anger.

Get Smart, LiveSTRONG

What can I write today that isn't about LIVESTRONG Day tomorrow?

Nothing.

Except.

Unity is strength. Knowledge is power. Attitude is everything.