March Madness & Celebrations

A supportive guy, VERY relieved 3/31/06 surgery is over!

Originally "penned" March 2013

and edited March 2015

     Easter and springtime are life-giving celebrations. Both of my children were born during the Easter season (one on Easter). AND, on April 1, 2006, I awoke. Free. A virulent poison was removed. April Fool's, cancer.


     I'll never forget people's special acts of kindness and love. The [long-time special friends'] group prayer at my home, Rebecca's gift cards for food, and Nevelle's personally-delivered plant. They kept me grounded to life, to fight, for the people I love. They encouraged me to press through months of pain and chemo. I wanted to live, for future life events like weddings, grandbabies, and more. 

Nostalgic arrangement from my sister-in-law

     The pictured vase and sheep have a special story. Mom owned them when she was alive, and it was passed on to my Chicago Sister-in-law. She secretly mailed them both to my son with money to buy the roses. When I arrived home from the hospital, the deja-vu, nostalgic arrangement on my dinette table temporarily jarred and uplifted me, with the endearing note: I hope this arrangement helps you feel like your Mom is cheering you on from heaven. Priceless!!

     I celebrate many new-life, springtime things, including 9 years of freedom. My 2.5-hour-long double mastectomy removing stage 2, grade 3, her2 neu, aggressive cancer occurred during 2006 March Madness. Each year as we watch hours of televised games, an inescapable reminder glares at me... of my personal March Madness. Months of painful recuperation, sickening chemo treatments, degrading hair loss and baldness, extended chemo fog, and then Tamoxifen meds slamming my body and emotions into 1,000-mph cray-cray menopause. All MAD! I stand on the other side of all of that, gratefully embracing my BS and MM degrees.


First stomach-turning chemo treatment

     I experience new life in a distinctive way and cherish family get-togethers, adventures to the Sears Tower and Chicago land in general, grandchild encounters, special friend activities, crafting encounters, movies, dates and nature adventures with my husband, and holidays... especially Easter!

Degrading balding & cray-cray menopause
mega-zappers to self-esteem

     Jesus is risen, and I, too, can each day live the resurrected life. I feel the Hunger Games competitiveness of everyday life, but it is coupled with a forever perspective. I seek helpful Reinforcement when I waiver, attempting to do what is just and right, including handling painful blows to my mid-50's identity. My senses are awake to a dynamic world. But tip-toeing so near to death's reality makes me ever-mindful of my final destination.

     IF I had been defeated on this earth, I know I would reside in a forever perfect place. That would be ideal. But instead, this world is still my home, and it is indeed very good.

Seasons Come & Seasons Go & Downton Abbey

      Question: What ring tone does a robin choose for its cell phone? Answer: Wing, wing, of course!

      Here is a "not-so-vintage," March 28th nature-themed entry from my 2012 journal that will hopefully begin to warm us into soon-coming spring, as well as 2013's early, March 31st Easter:

 

      "As I sip tea at the dinette table, I look out my bay window, enjoying our backyard. A squirrel scampering along the top of our wooden fence and the pretty evergreens catch my attention. Setting my cup of tea down, I swallow the soothing, warm brew. Not many free experiences could be more peaceful.

 

      I suddenly hear a distant... 'thunk'... from somewhere, and when it repeats, my attention is piqued: "Where is that 'thunk' coming from?"

      I arise to look to our small backyard red bud tree. The 'thunker' is resting on my special tree. We planted that treasured tree 3 years ago. Our son’s workplace was giving out free “trees” and asked if we wanted one. When he handed us a long and skinny stick, it was rather comical because we expected something that resembled a tree. I considered using it to play fetch.

 

      I planted it in a large pot on the back porch just in case it would survive the winter. Alas, it did survive, two winters in that pot before I replanted the tiny... tree, into the backyard. The little fledgling looked so vulnerable, I worried about strong winds blowing it over. I found in the garage a long-handled hot dog grilling fork to hold its trunk steady. Alas, the first summer winds did crack its center stem, but we clipped it and hoped for the best.

 

      That little stick is a survivor, and it is the small tree at which I gaze. It has a skinny branch large enough to perch a friendly (or not so friendly) 'wing-winging' rrrrrobin whose calling card is 'thunk, thunk.' She has an unusual affinity for that branch; I've noticed her sitting on it much of the day.

      The tree is a couple of yards from our bedroom's bay window. I assume it is spring nesting time, and her reflection in the glass disturbs her... she believes it is a danger to her territory. She adamantly flies a close 3-yardsticks to attack herself and, bam! She crashes her breast into the window and flies back to dizzily land onto her safe little perch. It takes a few minutes to stare herself down for the re-attack. This goes on much of the day, and her little foot marks cover my bedroom's bay window.

 

      I am happily reminded that I didn’t pay to have those windows washed. It certainly would have been a wasteful investment as thunk, thunk... she attacks herself again, and again, and again."

      And now, seasons come and seasons go...

 

      Thunk, thunk, thunk  lamenting blogs have bammed and dizzied this writer's mind. 
Like my beloved red bud tree, tough winds have come, branches were chopped... and I AM ever grateful to be a soulful, fighting, assaying SURVIVOR...of   1) Complex childhood alcoholic dysfunction;  2)  Melancholy, mute Mother... "Ada's"... voicelessness;  3)  Depleting and life-threatening breast cancer;  AND,  4)  Residually-sinister, sucker-punching, self-absorbed, cynic-essaying, demeaning depression.... They do NOT kept me down.  My feelings are written about the first three in past blogs, and I duck the blows of the fourth. This small font represents "Downy's" meticulous and... mindful... management.

      As a side note, certainly Downton Abbey's beautifully-refined Mary will be a soulful, fighting, "comeback" survivor in Season IV. Rather than remaining ever enervated, D. A. writers will re-kindle disheartened and downtrodden Widow Mary's character to spirited and energized focus, for the sake of her beloved Downton AND her new little bundle of life and joy... AS WELL AS for the sake of downtrodden viewers. We request positivity, please! D. A. seasons come and D. A. seasons go.

      As spring approaches, with its hope of colorful crocuses and daffodils... positive new life is coming soon, as well as beauty. I anticipate, and I watch and listen, for thunks and other nature orchestrations, created by the colorful Artist and Atoning One: * the FOREVER Substance Behind the Shadows *.

      For your D. A. viewing enjoyment, click the following link:  * "TEEN's" creative staff perfectly orchestrates the entire cast of D. A. to perform oh, oh special: "What Makes You Beautiful" *